The Isle
by puzzlepuzzle
Summary: In the aftermath of the Second War, Athrun Zala vanished without a trace for seven years - Cagalli never thought to find him. But fate deviates when he comes to find her himself and a web of desire and deceit lies before them. Original Cover Art SEQUEL OUT. .
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please**

* * *

Prologue

* * *

The windows were open for the greenish-golden glow of the coasts to flit in like moths in merriment, and the sea was not a blue glass brooch in the distance. It was grey, choppy, and murderous. Just the way he had expected it to be. The beech trees were deeply rooted in whatever soil there was to offer as foundation for the deep-reaching roots. Those had no leaves however- general winter was fast approaching. They were warm here in this place, but somehow, nothing changed the coldness and distance of the people around him.

There were many things he expected. The table would be set perfectly; the snowy napkins like wings of folded doves cooing secretly under the triangles of silk, and the wine glasses like musical instruments of clinks and musical chinks. That was to be expected in a place like this, and he had become used to expecting finery around him.

The flowers were blood-red clovers, _Trifolium pratense_. Those had been taken from a greenhouse somewhere. He had expected those too-national flowers were important at a table where nationalists sat eating traditional dishes. He would have preferred a simple meal- these dishes were rather heavy. But none of the guests complained.

And it was naturally so, because there were guns under the table, and the dinner forks in the men's hands were suspiciously sharp. Their blades were used to tasting more than animal meat.

There was silence while they dined. The deer meat was tender and skewered, and he wondered how they had obtained the spices. But then, he might as well have wondered where they had found the means to obtain each type of splendour in the room. There was a chandelier, the portraits of the deceased royals, lace coverlets, and a glass coffin which held a small body, not yet matured, but stone-cold already.

Seven years had passed, and he was still asking the same questions after knowing the same answers at times. It embittered him but it was very intriguing, nonetheless.

One of the higher-ups cleared his throat. "So you'll do it? In spite of the unpleasant affair this will be?"

Some of them began to laugh, but he silenced them with his own smile.

"Your guns might as well be rusted over," He said carefully. "Independence comes with sacrifice, but not the type you have been offering. The children will roll in their graves."

There were fists slamming on the table, and the men were animals consuming animals, barbarians amongst finery, and they were beasts amongst embroidered upholstery. The effect was indefinitely shocking. But he had expected this.

"We did not murder them!" One man shrieked, his eyes rolling in his face. His voice was hoarse with choked-back sobs. "I didn't murder my own son!"

Unanimously, the men and the significantly fewer number of women in the room cast their eyes to the coffin in the corner. It lay, a little wooden lozenge, watching them balefully. It was a macabre evening- a meal in front of the coffin. But nobody was eating and the coffin was a symbol of reverence to their cause.

"In making that one fatal mistake, the façade that he wants to create has settled over you," He replied steadily, "You have become the scapegoat of all that has been done, but we will not review what you already know and cannot help at this stage. My condolences are with you, even as I pity the foolishness displayed on your part. Nevertheless, I understand the concerns of this-," He paused delicately now, "-society."

There was an immediate uproar at the table. Glasses were upturned and the shrieks of those sitting opposite his men rose in a show of outrage.

"Sit down please, gentlemen."

And he added ironically, "We are on the same side."

This was neither figuratively or literally true.

Listlessly, he drew a slim candleholder near, stroking the brass with his cold, silk-clad fingers. He watched those who sat at that table. In turn, they looked at him uneasily, knowing fully well how many cards they had left and that he had a single card that he had left to use as a trump. Those sitting on his side looked apprehensive, but their concerns were unfounded.

He reached for a lighter and began to light each individual end, until the white pillars were alight with orange starflowers that gleamed in the semi-darkness. The chandeliers had not been lighted, he noticed. These men had some shreds of compassion in them that they had been unable to sever entirely.

"I will bring her back myself." He said finally. His eyes were not focused on anything in particular, but the stone in them chilled the soul of those in the room on that night. "She will come with me."

A single voice said faintly, "This is not the first attempt. You have perpetuated a few schemes but none have ever succeeded."

He sneered, and it was unsuitably ugly an expression on his face. "Foolish talk. I did not know of this until only recently. Insofar, my approval was not sought. But it doesn't matter. She is neither simple-minded nor a weak character."

"Will she listen to the proposition?" His companion muttered at his side.

His fingers trailed the spine of the candle absent-mindedly. "Possibly, possibly not, but it won't matter as long as they need her. And they do, so they will storm the world to find her. By virtue of fact, she is the last of a sovereign, save her twin, and her twin will certainly ensure that Scandinavia is stormed upon to retrieve her."

Both sides rose. His companion made a slight sound of distaste as both sides shook hands, but it was so faint that nobody heard it. The silence was pervasive, except for the howling of the winds and the rain that was now slashing here and there outside.

"I have one clarification to make," He said abruptly. "How long will she be a captive?"

"For as long as it takes to make the world focus its attention here."

"So be it." He concluded.

The people present stood and began to leave the room, like vultures deserting the bones of a carcass they'd only just been set upon. Finally, he was left sitting in his place, his companion standing by his side, looking morose.

The candlelight was harsh and a wind from the sea snapped the life from each wick.

"So now you are entirely embroiled in this," His companion said fitfully. "I hadn't wanted to involve you in this matter of life and death."

He considered this and looked aimlessly at the candles, a slight smile warming the marble of his complexion. The face in the wine of his glass was not his but hers, burgundy, golden-eyed, and laughing, wistful. He lifted it to his lips and felt the molten liquid burn his lips before it evaporated into a cool fine mist. He would be the hand that was placed in the flow of the river- directing its channels, changing the currents and reworking the flow. But all things were subject to its change, even the hand itself; the very hand eroded by the sheer force of the water and the time it spent there.

"There are certain things worth getting embroiled in." He said soberly.

"Think about it again." A pause of worried silence. "You might lose your life."

He smiled a genuine smile that surprised himself. "I've been dead for the past seven years."

"Hah! I've been for the last year as well. We share more than a few things in common, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps," He said steadily, "It's been long enough that we've been as such. Your wife is grieving."

A sigh filled the empty room. "It can't be helped."

"But you'll help it." There was no room for arguing against the dead-set calmness in his voice.

"I can't help as much as you think," His friend said softly, "But may you succeed."

He looked at his friend with a glimmer in his eyes that resembled something like hope, something his friend was compelled to stare at because it was a rare sight to see.

"I cannot fail."

"Neither can I," The other agreed.

They stood in silence, ponderous and charged with a frenetic desire to rise above all. The musty, palpitable and lead-like air was maddening in the scent of the flowers arranged everywhere, like a pall's vapid adornment.

He stretched out his palm questioningly, and his companion laughed a cough, dropping something into it.

"A red clover." He said quietly, as his companion nodded. "It encourages them."

"Yes," the man whispered. "Red for nobility."

"No," He said simply. "Red for blood-earned revenge."


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**Chapter 1

* * *

The night had been spent with a few glasses of champagne and a kiss or two; chaste ones, mind you, and always on the cheek. Unfortunately, those had been followed with a hurried brush of the hand against her, a resounding slap that she issued, and an even more hurried 'goodnight'.

They'd had skewered lamb for dinner, and she'd skewered another suitor.

And so it happened that on a warm but slightly windy morning, Cagalli counted the years and told herself sternly that she was twenty-five this year. At any rate, the number of years that she had lived made no difference when her reflection looked back at her imperceptibly with a slight defiance. In fact, the reflection's exhibit of self-sufficiency drew, ironically, a stunned tribute from Cagalli.

"Twenty-five." She said in surprise.

Her eyes reflected amber light and a sort of resigned acceptance of things that her subordinates did not like to admit was present. There would always be dialectic positions within her, and it seemed that her life was composed of a single task to juggle all these things. She was Cagalli Yula Atha, Orb's Princess to the people but a commander to the troops. She was a shrieking tempest and a whirlpool when she wanted things done, but she became a sort of rooted, wistful tree in private. Her mouth was capable of smiling and it was plump with the ripe fullness of youth, but her voice was husky and authoritative with a man's strength.

The men had often described her face as being sad and lovely with a sort of brightness in it. Some called her the golden Princess— they said there was a golden light her hair and eyes that nobody had gotten close enough to kiss. They called her a child-woman. She herself did not, she was too far too preoccupied maintaining the cool, disconnected smile the world saw and burying the insecurity inside.

"I've got to admit," She yawned to the pantry shelf and stooping down to it, "He was a Greek god. He belonged in the Louvre."

Her fingers felt for an egg and she grasped it, humming, "But he was better suited in the asylum."

There was something pathetic in her concentration as she searched for a pan. She did not realize it, but her focus in doing all these mundane little things was her overt complacency and trust in her own abilities; long practiced and perfected. It carried over even where suitors were concerned. She felt she had no need for anything or anybody—after all, it was that way with regards to her work, and her work was her life.

And it was precisely this competency that made Cagalli hate mornings like these; mornings when she would wake, feeling incredibly disconcerted. There was the heartache that had suddenly emerged new and fresh enough, as if a blade had re-plunged into an old wound.

And the newspaper! Now that was really goddamn depressing.

"Waffle, waffle, toast, or waffle. Toast."

Her fingers moved to a singular microwave-easy packet that she selected and left to thaw for a little. Frozen maple syrup with toast was like mixing metaphors, queer but effective nonetheless. While she waited for the signal from the microwave, her eyes strayed over her kitchen as she took stock of the order that she had established.

For the Representative of Orb, internationally known as the Supreme Commander of Orb, and more commonly as the Princess of Orb, normality was something to be craved after.

Unrest hadn't disappeared- it still existed. No matter what the state of politics or international relation, there was always tension. It was a sort of cancer, dormant but deadly in the bloodstream of the world. And that was why Cagalli was convinced by now that Dullindal had been correct all along. He had been a misinterpreted genius at best, a sad fool at worst, but this present that she lived in was the true proof of his assertion. The world thrived on ambitions, dreams, selfish desires and money. Money ran through a war; the money made from spilled blood.

And Cagalli had refused to believe Dullindal back then.

She flipped through the newspaper, still waiting for the syrup to thaw. She scanned through for the usual things- minor conflicts, a few casualties, but not so few that each life was worth nothing more than a handful of figures. Amidst these of course, were Lacus' new statement and Kira's recent development with the technology in the Zaft First-Order troops. The funny thing was that he probably hadn't even learnt how to use a gun properly.

And in the domestic news section, she spotted an article about her. She'd just celebrated her birthday not too long ago— of course, they were still caught up with that event. The usual questions were asked in the article, and she sighed, tired of those cropping up every year.

"Can she run a country by herself in the future?" She muttered. "Will she never start a family?"

She grinned to herself, starting on her breakfast. "Hell, yes."

* * *

"_You'll forgive me for saying this," He had insisted as she glared at him, her hand and his cheek stinging from how she'd flung her palm across his face, "But you can't lead a country with only a woman holding the reins."_

"_You're wrong about two things." She said contemptuously. If she had appeared shy and insecure in her pale chiffon dress, she was now domineering with her temper and overwhelming distaste for him. He wasn't sure which he preferred; the quiet, slightly passive person that he'd taken out for dinner or the sharp-tongued person who'd just taken off the mask that she'd worn all evening._

_He knew one thing though. The proverbial hand would not regret anything. His brushing against her had made her snap, but at least, he had confirmed that she was capable of snapping or feeling anything at all._

_As it was, her eyes were flashing and there was a perceptible distaste in her face. Half of him shrank and the other half fought to control the insensibility of his desires._

"_What am I wrong about?" He protested._

"_I am still the Princess of Orb and you're a rank under me even if you're from the next oldest royal family. And the second thing you're wrong about is my ability to run things as perfectly as I've always done. I've been running Orb since the Second War and nobody's been complaining."_

_He backed away, wondering where he had gone wrong with her. If he had doubt about how suitable she would be even as he cast his eye far and wide, then now, he was sure how much he wanted her. But she was nobody's._

"_Damn," Cagalli Yula Atha had said sulkily," How I hate blind dates."_

_

* * *

_

It wasn't just the papers. The officials had been irritating her with a barrage of questions recently: How she would deal with the recent rebellion of the Denmark Nationalist faction when Scandinavia was Orb's ally to begin with? And worst still, there were other questions arising from the fact that she would be approaching her twenty-sixth birthday in the very near future.

"When will you tie the knot to someone of a respectable family?" They all knew that twenty-six was a magic number for the Orb Nobles in many respects.

Her face cold and mouth thinned, Cagalli had made headlines by declaring, "Never."

She had far too many things to care about; far too little time for herself.

_Orb will not attack another country, be attacked by another country, and will, in other words, mind its own bloody business._

And business to mind she had.

"Conflict breaks out at the border of the Scandinavian Kingdom. Claims of terrorists." She read this aloud. But for all her efforts, her words and the bold black headline had their chilling effects marred by the chewing of her omelet. Would so little had come out of all the sacrifices the people had made in the Bloody Valentine wars?

She scanned the papers again. Lacus was declining comment as the Mediator of the Plants, and so would Cagalli. The Plants had been under attack for so long that the end of the Second War had merely been a cue to get on with life. Peace was at the top of the list of priorities, that was certain, but not for those in Denmark.

"Denmark's one screwed-up place now," Kisaka had remarked the other day while on a long-distance call to the House of Commons in Orb, "Full of terrorists, dissidents, and a good old corrupt government. The Scandinavian and Swedish Sovereign's helpless, but then he always was where Denmark was concerned. It's an oddball that doesn't believe in being part of Scandinavia or conforming with Sweden and Norway's policies. It sure doesn't help that Sweden's King's old and pretty much a goner where the politics are concerned- he's been out of the loop since the Second War, hasn't he?"

Cagalli could still remember that. In the Second War, Sweden had rallied the countries within Scandinavia and somehow called for a state of national emergency, channeling the attention of the troops to Orb's defense against the Destiny Manifesto. From there, Scandinavia, consisting of Sweden, Norway and Denmark, had become Orb's ally.

And perhaps, just perhaps, that had been the last useful thing the King of Sweden had managed, and perhaps, just perhaps, he knew it.

"The only member of the Royal Family who could have done anything's kicked the bucket before he could do anything. So that leaves the poor old High King to manage the mess. The poor princess. Now she's a widow and her husband's only something buried under a weight of soil."

Cagalli couldn't agree more. While Scandinavia clearly had some internal problems, Sweden was still denying the existence of any terrorists. Sweden represented Scandinavia, and the Scandinavian government's motto was not dissimilar to Orb's. Obviously, Orb didn't want to stick its fingers in the political hot soup that was Denmark. Earth territory or not, as long as Denmark and its purported terrorists kept their business out of the sensitive Coordinator-Natural peace that the Plants and the other countries had worked so hard to achieve, Cagalli would care less than how well her omelet was cooked.

She got up, stretching slightly and straightening her uniform. The weekly helper would come in soon, and a quick glimpse at the rooms that she left in the aftermath of a whirlwind assured Cagalli that she was not paying the woman for nothing.

But Cagalli would not see her or wait around to inform her of what had to be neatened. There was already a list of things pre-written that would be fulfilled, as was the system she'd established with all the helpers in her estate. They came quietly and left without ever being seen. For herself, there was work to be completed too, whether or not anyone would take notice of it or give attention to her efforts.

She stood up, ready to get out of her house and to drive to work.

* * *

When Cagalli marched into the office and arranged herself into the hard-backed chair, she noted with some morbid satisfaction that the work today was twice as high as the stack she had cleared yesterday.

"Morning, Aaron." Cagalli said absently-mindedly.

The first thing her permanent secretary of office and close confidant said was, "Shit, Atha, you've got to go to Scandinavia."

Cagalli didn't look up from the pile of documents that her eyes had been scrutinizing to spare the brown-haired, thirty-something bachelor even a single glance. "I'm laughing."

Aaron Biliensky looked miffed. "Number one, it's not April's Fool, because that was more than a week ago. Number two, I don't joke when it's office hours in the running. And number three, you really do have to go. The invitation you got means that the Prime Minister, Scandinavian Royal Cabinet and Imperial Family are ordering you to."

Cagalli stretched her arm out, still not looking at her friend. He automatically put the handle of the coffee cup into it, and she took a sip, absent-mindedly still reading the latest report on the birthrates in one region of Orb's territory.

"Shit, Cagalli, you really have to go!" His usual smooth baritone voice was bordering on a squeak now, like someone had hand-sheared the lawn that was his voice. She nearly giggled at the thought and looked up to see Aaron peering with a frown that didn't suit him very well.

"Why do I have to?" Cagalli asked teasingly. With his boyish good looks and carefully-maintained physique, along with a strange penchant for knowing exactly which fashion designers had talent and which deserved to be shot, Cagalli hadn't been surprised to find him pining over a photograph of another official in the Orb Office; someone decidedly good-looking and someone decidedly male.

He looked horrified at her response, or rather, the lack of any adequate response that matched the indignant nature of his. "Shit, Cagalli, the whole bunch of Scandinavian higher-ups are requesting you as a guest-of-honor at their gala! I mean, what gala could this be? Try au courant- they obviously want you to go there and threaten those little shits hiding in Denmark to stop going trigger-happy!"

"It's fine, I'll go." Cagalli said with a parody of sobriety, "I'll take it as an invitation for a night of hedonism, and then I'll pack my bags and get back here. Kisaka would approve."

Cagalli grinned and considered the tanned, elderly but very fit man for a second. He had retired only last year, with her blessing and a pact that she would always look after him, never mind that he insisted that he was the care-giver and she the care-receiver.

Ledonir Kisaka was living abroad now, traveling the world, and she missed him so much. He had left with tears in his eyes, and she had laughed and insisted that for all his scars, he was a teddy-bear with more muscles than a normal person would ever have. He had smacked her on the head for that, and if he hadn't been the head of security, the security guards would have detained him.

Aaron clucked his tongue in a manner that reminded her of Mana. "Au contraire, my poor child. I think you're being naïve here."

She instantly imagined someone else with the words he had only just , she shook her head and cursed inwardly at her lack of focus for that day. She would do well to leave reminiscence and recollections out from this.

"I'm not," Cagalli insisted stubbornly, "Ignorance is bliss. I'm not about to look into that region's problems when I'm still having more than eight hours of work a day. I'll go there and pretend not to know what they are hinting about if they ask for Orb's help in dealing with any terrorists."

Mollified, Aaron put down the schedule he had been brandishing rather violently for a whole two minutes. He sat down in the chair opposite her side of the work table, and sipped his Earl Grey, like a storm that had exhausted itself. She watched him wistfully, and then sighed once.

Cagalli looked at her watch, her thoughts scattered, and the headlines played in her head-headlines of the terrorists shooting down innocent children in schools. And the black-ink on the grey paper of the headlines was like poison in her mind, whispering of a conflict that was minor but not so minor either. If Scandinavia lost control over Denmark, there would be new questions arising- but the terrorists, who were they and what did they want in the first place?

In return, she asked gently. "Do you love me?"

He looked astonished. "I thought we all know I don't love women. But yes, I do love you anyway. Why do you ask?"

"Because, Aaron," She said wistfully, "If you love me, you'll believe in me. It's a minor conflict. Scandinavia can plead with me to go, and for now, I'll delay it. But as leader of the country that leads the other neutral nations, I'll have to show my face. And if you believe in me, you'll know that I'll probably end up repeating myself all over again while I'm over there."

"Orb will not attack another country, will not be attacked by another country, and will, in other words, mind its own bloody business."

They said this in perfect unison, Aaron in a morbidly panicked manner, and Cagalli in a charmingly monotonous one. They had perfected it by now.

He looked at her with an expression that gasped, "Sacrilege!"

And she promptly burst out laughing. A few seconds later, he joined in, but it was not long before soberness entered their minds and the laughing ceased. She ran a hand through her hair.

"Oh Aaron," She said wearily, "This is unnecessary worrying on your part. It's up to them to solve their own colony's problems and make the best out of it! If they're fighting about Coordinators and Naturals flying at each other's throats, I'd be already stepping in. But this is ridiculous! All that's there is a petty, internal conflict of sorts! It's just some minor conflict that nobody's going to care about when all we know about it is that it's a struggle for political power!"

"Yeah," He scoffed, adjusting the leather watch she had given him for his birthday last year, "And that's what the newspaper is saying. Do you actually believe Sweden's telling the truth? Or do you really believe that your invitation is just a frivolous little thing with chiffon and tuxedos? Try mayhem and screwed-up terrorists instead!"

She laughed, in spite of herself. Aaron was a good person to have around- intelligent, charismatic, handsome, dedicated, faithful, and the best gay-bitching friend she would ever have the fortune to meet in her lifetime. His face was contorted with irritation now as he snarled, "Shit, Cagalli, don't take it lightly! I'll arrange for double the number of bodyguards while you're walking into the lair of the Scandinavian terrorist shites!"

Tears poured down her face and she clutched her cup helplessly. He was making this a habit, she realized. Every time he said her name, profanity rooted with concern, would accompany it. She would have to talk to him about it one day.

Eventually, she choked, "Thank you, Aaron, "and burst into a fresh wave of chortles.

He looked mortified. "You're welcome. I'd _pound_ them into two if they tried to touch you. I'm sure Athrun Zala would have insisted on the same."

That cut her laughter into two, almost as if a sword had whipped through it, and she straightened up, her face a cold mask, her fingers tight around the mug's handle. "He wouldn't have. But let's not discuss someone who isn't around here anymore."

Her fingers tapped the edge of her desk nervously, as if to make up for the silence that had enveloped the room.

"Athrun Zala isn't dead, that's for one," Aaron mused, not quite seeing how pained his superior was, and how white her knuckles were turning, "I mean, he did come back for a stint as a, what was it? Oh yes, Admiral. But you refused to meet him, didn't you? I mean, the actual reasons are as good as anybody's guess, but it was as obvious as the day that you didn't want him around. All the stuff you did to get him out of Orb- let's see, trying to cancel his rights to immigrate, that stint where you threatened to leave Orb if he came back until Kisaka told you were stuck here, what else? Oh that time when you-,"

She remained mute, although her face was deathly white.

"I mean, you have to give that man his due credit, but I think he would have put his foot down where this was concerned. And where is he now? He just suddenly gave up and disappeared with a resignation nobody had really approved of, didn't he? I mean, we all know he isn't lying six feet under the ground, because nobody has confirmed it, and he was pretty loaded to begin with so he could probably afford to slack off in some other country or go back to the Plants. Of course, Mediator Clyne's already with your brother so he doesn't have anyone else to get hitched to, but there are a dozen other females, heck, males too, who would love a piece of -,"

"Aaron," Cagalli interrupted firmly, partially because her head was throbbing and mostly because she did not want to hear anything that would scar her completely, "Athrun Zala may well be somewhere out there. I don't know and I don't care to know. And yes, he is loaded as you say; he can probably collapse a few major banks with the financial power he inherited from the Zala House. To satisfy that love of conspiracies I know you have, I confirm that yes, it is enough to buy a new identity with the right surgery and that sort of thing."

"Then it's true!" Aaron chirped excitedly, "He's alive!"

"Look," Cagalli interposed firmly, "Believing that Athrun Zala is alive and flourishing in some other place is as good as believing that the Loch Ness monster's alive and swimming. Nobody can prove so and nobody can disprove so. End of discussion."

He looked indignant. "But I can bet you that that man is alive!"

"A bet you'd lose."

"Yeah, why?" Aaron said unbendingly.

"He's stayed out of the newspapers for nearly seven years. That's a miracle especially if you're a war hero and you're someone who travels in the highest circles of Plant. For certain, he is not confirmed to be dead, but that doesn't mean he isn't. At least in the Orb records, he is as deep under the current records as his body is in the ground.""

"Orb records?" Aaron cut in thoughtfully, "Dead only in the Orb records? I expected something more significant than fuddy-duddy archives."

"I don't know what you are talking about,' she returned coldly. "And I was glad when he left after half a year."

"But you must have expected some contact of some sort, at the very least," Aaron pressed, "I mean, to leave and vanish without a trace? Mad!"

"He managed to," Cagalli retorted, remarkably bad-tempered now, "And if you want someone to confirm your theories with you, I suppose you've come to the wrong person. I do agree that it's unlikely for him to return to Plant where they'd pester him to rejoin Zaft, or run for Chairman. Plant is a place where the rich families would probably grovel at his feet for him to marry their daughters, but frankly, Aaron, I care very little."

Aaron raised a perfectly-thin, manicured and plucked eyebrow, "Yeah? You're not far off from the age where the condition in the eighth section of the forty-sixth clause of the requirements of all royal families in Orb applies directly to your highness."

"I'll worry about it when it comes," She said stubbornly, and refused to say any more on the issue. Thoughts of it however, still plagued her, as did the fact that she had looked into the mirror that very morning and known that she was twenty-five. Aaron proved as good as his word, he continued harping on the issue, until she threatened him with cold-blooded murder, and that was his cue to shut up completely.

"And for your information," Cagalli muttered as an afterthought, "They proved why the Loch Ness monster couldn't exist."

* * *

Aaron did not accompany her to Sweden, where the heads of the Kingdom of Scandinavia resided and had set up their headquarters for decades before the First Bloody Valentine War.

"Shit, Cagalli, I'm supposed to be covering you, so how would I be expected to go along? Excuse me, I'm here to cover your arse, not help you blow that allowance of yours! And by the way, get me some of those Swedish chocolates, my niece loves them."

"You have a niece?"

"Yeah, okay, I love those chocolates but I'm actually on a diet."

Oh, Aaron. How much she adored him. He had become the permanent secretary only two years ago and had a stunning record and an equally brilliant political career ahead of him. And yet he was plagued by unrequited love and a struggling insecurity deep within the confident exterior he showed as a poster to the world. But he had never once doubted her abilities or questioned her authority- on the blue days, he would hug her and let go quickly, embarrassedly shaking his head, while spewing curses about her woes that made her laugh until she forgot those and concentrated on the present.

Cagalli found herself wondering how much he would have enjoyed being here, in spite of his suspicions on the motives they had for inviting her over. Granted, there was a hushed blanket of silence over the political tension, but everything else was in order. The shops were brightly decked in their spring colors, and the wind was slight but lovely.

A glance outside revealed gaudy red flowers smiling from fields in spring's cloak of green, and the procession of security cars behind hers trailed like a black snake, past the roads where crowds gathered to welcome her. She waved a little at first, and then took to smiling when her hands felt tired. Then her smile too, became tiring to sustain, and she was glad that she had reached the docks.

She stepped out and followed the attendant as quickly as her feet, tiny and squashed into small, dainty slippers, would allow her to. Her hair had been freshly brushed with a minor treatment of curls to provide movement although the volume was already natural. The docks were already red-carpeted, never mind that she would be there for less than five minutes, and the walkways, bobbing slightly because of the waves, were absolute bowers of flowers.

For a second, she wondered if she belonged in this pop-out book that she had been placed into. But then her public persona clicked and she smiled for posterity's sake.

The navy officer saluted her, and she directed her already-fixed smile at him. Almost secretively, his eyes crept from the empty space he had focused them on to her face, and immediately, his mouth slackened, the eyes became misty, and he smiled bashfully, reddened and embarrassed.

Not seeing his reaction, she pattered after him, trying to walk gracefully while she got used to the rhythm of the yacht on the sea. It wasn't difficult- the yacht was the size of several large ships by itself and bore little impact from the waves. The SS Rafael was the Swedish Royal family's personal yacht, but 'yacht' was a terrible understatement.

She considered saying hello to some naval officers who were saluting at her, but decided that it would be too colloquial if it was released from her lips. Thus, she clammed them tightly with a smile that was a little too bright. As she walked through a corridor, escorted by a naval officer, she paused to look at the decorations. There were plenty of ornate things around, and she felt slightly curious as to why every royal needed to have all these things on some random yacht when her own home seemed so devoid of these artifacts.

"My greetings to the Princess."

Now Cagalli turned, distracted from the large but frankly, disturbing painting of a unicorn being butchered; silver mingled with crimson and sepia here and there, the same painting that sat in a single domino amongst a chain of others, framed by cold suits of armor in the gargantuan hallways of the Royal Yacht.

A youth was bowing to her, one arm dipped forward gallantly. A ruby glittered near his throat and flashed like newly-spilt blood near the white of the material covering his throat.

"Er- hello," Cagalli said cautiously.

She quickly proffered a hand, trying to cover up for her lack of familiarity with the Swedish customs and the general place here. The eldest imperial son took it regally and lifted it to his lips, although she had been expecting a handshake instead. Startled, she squirmed a little and then blushed more because her squirming would have reflected badly on her. Was she to look a fool already?

But the youth did not seem to mind. How old was he, really? This person was a fourteen year old with the air and elegance of a man who had lived for countless of days and had the wisdom of the world poured into his entrails. It was more than simply disconcerting. She thought of what she had been like as a fourteen year old and decided that she was nothing like this person.

"I am delighted to meet Your Highness," Cagalli said stiffly, not being ignoring the fact that he had not let go of her hand yet, "I hope our acquaintance will be a memorable one."

He grinned, looking surprisingly more human than cherubic, because smiling thinned his already thin lips. If he had had a beautiful face before closer inspection, the exceptionally thin lips made him look slightly reptilian, although the entire effect was quite impressive.

"I expect it will be." He said in a delicate, yet jocund manner. "And don't call me Your Highness, it suits me as much as these medals do."

Her attention was drawn to his shoulder and chest where a number of metal pieces gleamed ostentatiously. His gloved hand was pointing to the medals, and it seemed to be quite cheeky with his pixie-like smile. Contrary to what he had declared however, they suited him in a fine manner, despite his apparent youth, for his posture was impeccable and his bearing was very royal.

And slowly, she grinned too. She would like Prince Pietre Harraldsson of Sweden, without a doubt. His blonde hair was very fair, almost white in fact, like platinum with sprinklings of gold, and his eyes, what strange, beautiful ochre shades they were.

"I offer my condolences, tonight," She said as normally as she could, "Your brother-in-law was a fine man."

He looked somber for a minute. "Erik Strumsson was. His body has yet to be returned by those who killed him and ruined my sister, so all we have now is a mashed hand they sent as proof of his demise. Freja Magdalena is still in mourning, and will not join us for the ball. But Father understands. In fact, he will join us for brief a time before he retires to his chambers- after all, he is in poor health from knowing that his son-in-law and confidante was struck dead a less than a month ago. And yet," He looked pensive, "We can do little but to hold our heads high."

She tried to ignore the glimmer of hope she saw in the boy's eyes. She would not do anything for them even if they begged Orb to help Scandinavia with its internal conflicts. Cagalli was very aware of what she could and could not do.

"Do you want to know why he died?" Pietre said leisurely, almost as if death was merely nothing but sleeping for a long time and awakening once more, "Do you?"

Cagalli tried to concentrate on walking through the entwining hallways that would lead to the dining room. Already, the strains of an orchestra and murmurs of conversations ten times louder than they were from here were teasing her ears. Her midnight colored gown rustled amorously against the carpet her feet trod on, and she wondered if she could reply that she didn't want to know for fear of getting too deeply involved.

"If it does not pain you." She replied eventually. She would have to remember not to bite her lips too much. It had been a habit of hers since a long time ago, whenever she did not know what to say or was thinking deeply. Already, the rich berry her lips were stained were a little less red than before.

He shook his head. "It's been years now. It's time we moved on. My royal brother-in-law died only because he offended the fiends in Denmark with his capabilities to eradicate fear and doubt in the minds of our people here in Sweden. And that is what the terrorists do not want."

"So there are terrorists." She murmured.

"Yes." Pietre Harraldsson said calmly. "I should not be saying this, because my father wants to keep this quiet. As the High King of Scandinavia and sovereign of Sweden, he does not want the world to scrutinise Scandinavia more than it already has. My father was devastated over his son-in-law's death. Erik was being groomed to be the next King, you know. But that made him a target for the Danish Nationalist Faction."

"King?" Cagalli said, astonished, "Wasn't this about your colony, Denmark, wanting a larger say in the political system? Surely your royal sister's husband would not matter that much? Why did they target him?"

"Because he was trying to unite Denmark with Scandinavia once and for all," Pietre said solemnly, folding his white-gloved hands like a pair of slender doves behind his back, walking at the pace Cagalli unknowingly followed. The hilt of his sword gleamed silver in the candlelight of the hallway, and the chandeliers reflected thousands of inverted faces, one belonging to him, and one belonging to her.

"Denmark is not a component of Scandinavia's in the way that Sweden and the other countries are," The youth said, his eyes large and limpid, his voice calm and strangely peaceful.

"Historically, they have been a stranded pearl from the necklace for centuries. And yet, Sweden bring them under our control and have them follow our rule."

"But that was necessary in the First and Second War, wasn't it?"

"But now that the war is over, the second one come and gone as well, Denmark insists that we declare them entirely independent. Of course, this is what the terrorists want. The civilians have not spoken up yet. Of course-," He smiled wryly. "They wouldn't if they would face the same fate some of their children faced."

Cagalli did not know what to say to this chilling understanding that she had only just gained. She thought about the rumoured massacres in the schoolhouses, and felt guilt tear at her. But she would not agree to let Orb join in this internal conflict. It was her mistake for allowing herself to understand this much. But still, she tried to argue, it had been Pietre who'd offered so much information first.

As they walked towards the main hall, she thought about what he had told her.

Pietre Harraldsson's brother in law had married the eldest child of the Royal Family and would have been King. While the Royal Family did not wield as much political power as the Cabinet in Sweden, they had influence and the people loved them dearly.

That, in itself, was more potent than the official political power. Cagalli was more aware of this than anybody else- had she not attained that before Yuna's reign of misdirection and chaos, she would have never seized the rightful power she deserted in Orb again.

With Pietre's brother in law, it was the same. He wasn't widely-seen nor was his face splashed everywhere, but he had an undeniable power with the people. So when he had calmed the people down and made certain promises that calmed them, they had followed Sweden's lead. And with the various components of the Scandinavian Kingdom uniting closer than ever, Denmark, or at least the terrorists, was furious.

For Denmark, a tighter kingdom would mean breaking away was even more difficult.

And that stumbling block would be the most influential member of the Scandinavia Heads. As the next king of the Swedish Royal Family and the inaugural head of the Kingdom, Erik, that is, Pietre's brother-in-law, was very powerful.

The king was old and weak, logically; he would die soon enough by the natural causes of inescapable fate and diminishing health.

The youngest child was an adopted princess, a distant cousin the old king had taken in when her parents had died in accidents, merely a harmless toddler. The eldest son was little more than a youth, and the eldest was a reputedly lovely but sheltered Princess who fortunately, had married a charismatic, influential and shrewd man who helmed the royal circles and the people. But obviously, he hadn't been shrewd enough.

It was simple to sketch out now. Cagalli understood everything, almost as if she had ran the assassination by herself. How much did the rest of the world not know? And how much was not in the newspapers?

"Pieter," She said softly, "You must be careful. I think they might target anyone who is left in this family."

He smiled gently, and she suddenly realized he was still holding her hand. The rather dim lighting of the hallways were fading now, and the noise was louder than ever, glasses clinking and laughter of the spoken jokes raising into the air from the entrance they were nearing.

Pietre looked at her, his eyes intelligent and grave. "Thank you, Your Highness. But I will have them target me- I intend to be the kind of man my brother-in-law was."

She did not know how to respond. He was so young, so idealistic, and so honorable. He reminded her so much of someone that she had to look away for a minute, and it was enough for her to be whisked into a room where the chandelier was merely an extension of the glittering strings the women wore around their necks.

And Cagalli was offered a drink which she willingly took for courage, and she made small talk and greeted the King with as much pleasant cheer as she could muster. His smile was bright, but his eyes solemn, very much like his only son's, and her heart ached for him. All the same, she politely shifted conversation away from the recent developments in the Scandinavian Kingdom, and much to her relief, he did not make any attempt to coerce her into lending Orb's power to stamp out the terrorists.

After all, Sweden was the head of the Scandinavian Kingdom, and the Scandinavian Kingdom was a neutral one.

She wandered around, still trying to find a pocket of air to breathe in with the crushing crowds, and the orchestra stuck up a beat. A few men asked her to dance, and out of formalities' sake, she did so, unwillingly and rather woodenly. She did not care for this. One, apparently Pietre's head consort, asked her if she would stay for another day so he could show her around. She smiled politely and shook her head.

When the year of reckoning came, Cagalli decided, she would worry about things like these. The man proceeded to introduce her to the other important consorts of the Royal Family, and their voices, it seemed to Cagalli, grew increasingly strained with their boasts and their insufferable and agitated egos.

"Cherchez la femme," Aaron would have sniffed, had he been there.

Then when she got thoroughly tired of it all, she excused herself and stole off, making sure nobody followed. And Cagalli took a quick glance to make sure nobody had followed her. Instantaneously, her dainty slippers were pulled off, held carelessly in one hand, and she was padding, barefooted, up deserted steps and various turnings, only to find herself at the deck. Had something more than her feet led her here?

The salty sea-spray was refreshing, and she freed her hair from the jeweled grips so that they flowed naturally, still soft and slightly wavy, just for the tips to reach her shoulders. Without the least hint of self-consciousness because nobody was around, she stretched her hands forward, taking them off the steel of the ship deck, so they would extend towards the blue of the ocean they were traveling on now. And she smiled unconsciously, in spite of the rather strange situation she was now in.

"See, Aaron?" She mumbled. "I knew they wouldn't want more than my presence here in Sweden."

Then it hit her and she began to chuckle. She had been on tenterhooks for this whole day, wondering how she could politely refuse to lend Orb's aid if they asked for it. And really, all she had been doing was thinking about Aaron's words, never mind that he was a classic mother-hen and prize worry-wart.

A sound behind her caught her attention, and she whipped around instinctively. But Cagalli was met with nothing but the entrance she had come from to be on the deck. Now, the tunnel was a black stretch she was suddenly afraid to move down into.

"Is anyone, um- there?" Cagalli called, trying not to feel stupid.

Silence.

"Joy," She muttered aloud, "I'm being a paranoid creep like Aaron."

Listlessly, and suddenly losing all her ease, she turned back to face the stream of bubbles and foam that the yacht created as it sped along. She closed her eyes, feeling more than a little jittery and ill at ease. But she told herself firmly, that she was just tired.

Above, the moon glinted murderously, and the various pathways around the enormous deck were illuminated in silver highlights. Cagalli would have been camouflaged by the shade of her gown, only that her hair was gleaming under the moon, and her bared neck, the top of her shoulders and her ungloved arms was milk under the light.

To an observer, it would have been a struggle to not catch her in one's arms and sink the teeth into the soft flesh to hear her ragged and tiny cries.

She counted to ten, internally, to calm herself down. She was aware that beads of sweat were trickling down now.

And then she whipped out a gun from under her gown and pointed it in the direction she had sworn to have heard a noise.

"I don't care who you are," Cagalli said, more firmly than she thought she was capable of doing, especially since her shoulders where trembling, "Just come out and drop whatever weapon you've got on you. Now. Don't force me to shoot."

The moon shone on her and the spot she was pointing at. There were a couple of crates behind the wooden bench the people on the yacht would sit upon to gaze at the sea in the day, but other than that, it was only a merging of shadows. Was there something human amongst the inanimate?

She stood, still poised, barefooted, her slippers already on the floor since she had dropped them in the swift instant when she pulled out her gun.

Nothing.

The life-float resembled a giant donut with vanilla icing and strawberry jam on alternate strips of red and white. There was nothing there.

Doubt flooded her mind. She trusted her instincts- but this was entirely wrong. Something was wrong here.

"I'm going to shoot," Cagalli said fiercely, and this time, her voice actually shook. "I'll shoot if you don't come out after ten."

The moon was out and reflecting on the sea. The waves were lapping lazily, and the dimness was cozy, save for the fact that she was in a stance to fire. Her hair was whipping around her impassionate, frightened face, and the silver crust of her necklace framed her collarbones with a sapphire as large as a pigeon egg on her chest. It glittered secretively on the white of her collarbone and the swell of her breasts, mimicking her eyes in the dark.

"One, two, three," She said softly, "Four, five, six, seven, eight-,"

Her momentum was slowing down, and she felt herself faltering. Was she really insane?

"Nine, ten."

She closed her eyes tersely, flinching almost as if she was the one to be shot, and then slowly, she peeked out from her lashes, refocusing on the spot she was pointing her gun at. And then she began to laugh, a relieved and a foolish one, and then she sighed and lowered her weapon.

If she told Aaron, he would insist on a shrink. Perhaps she would take his advice when she got back to Orb.

Still, she did not turn back to the ocean view that she had been enjoying only a while ago. There was a discomforting sense of ambiguity in the night, and a sense of incongruity plagued her mind. Already, she was not at ease.

Then a scream that wasn't entirely human ripped the air and maddened shrieks danced as blocks of sound from the space beneath the wood her feet trod on. Below the decks, something was happening.

The sound of rapid gunfire was everywhere and a multiple round of shots being fired from below in the ship reverberated towards the sea, so piercing that even the gushing of the engine did not block it off entirely. And her eyes widened. There had been something wrong.

She stooped, picking up the slippers she knew Aaron would kill her for losing, and not thinking clearly, hurried towards the entrance of the deck, the same place that would lead her back to the ballroom where something was happening. The bodyguards would be waiting for her, unless something had happened to them and-

Her heart was racing.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

She whipped back, panicking. And yet, there was an odd triumph that blossomed within her slippers clattered to the floor.

Her thoughts were scattered and distant. Vaguely, she wondered if it would be damaged, for its rhinestones were rather delicate. Would Aaron scream at her for ruining it?

She could imagine what he'd shriek, "It's a special edition La Merle you horrible little, you, you,"-

Would Kira have ran to embrace this man, and Lacus too?

She held her gun again, but even more unsteadily this time.

It was too dark here, and it was certain that the shadows masked the man. But his voice was unmistakable, especially since it had plagued her dreams more than she would have realized or like to have admitted.

"I knew there was somebody here!" Cagalli breathed. Her eyes were staring at him, petrified. He was a ghost of a figure; not quite opaque, but the moonlight seemed to be an agent of lunacy in her in the first place. She wasn't quite sure if she would wake at any point now.

He sighed. She thought that it might have been the waves crashing on the sides of the yacht, but he had sighed.

"I didn't expect you to be here on the deck," He said politely, "And I didn't expect your security to be so lax either. You ought to replace them."

"I told them not to bother with me." Cagalli retorted. Her hands were still fitted on the gun, and her eyes were already watering from straining not to blink. If she did, if she did, her mind raced to shout at her, he would disappear again.

He laughed, a cynical laugh that was familiar and yet discomforting. "And they collect their paychecks without doing their job. This is a cue for replacement, if you ask me."

"Shut up!"

Her voice was a whip in the air even as hints of screams and hollering floated to the deck from where she had left them. "You know something, don't you?"

"And what if I do?"

They stood, she ready to shoot, and he somehow relaxed in the stillness of the dark from his corner. Her eyes were flashing and her arms tensed in a defensive measure.

"Put your gun down," He said persuasively, "I might tell you."

Something in his face did not reassure her, even if his words sounded fair enough. What was it? Cunning? She had seen it in his face before and even found it incongruent with his ways and his noble bearing. But this was different. She could not trust him.

"I could just shoot you now," She said furiously. She was the one who ought to be in control. "I'll claim it was self-defense and find out for myself. Do you know what is happening below?"

He smiled his mouth fine and beautiful even if half his face was still in the shadows. "Let's be a little more rational. I'll explain more if you follow me. And you won't shoot me."

Cagalli did not favor the confidence in his body. She had admired it before, the bright, untainted confidence and trust in himself and the world. Now, it was a lazy confidence, something that implied that she would be a simple obstacle that could be cleared with no more than a single leap.

Pride was bitter in her mouth. She could not help the recollection of that one day. She had been too proud then, and she did not want to lose her pride now even.

"What's your decision?" He prompted her, folding his arms elegantly and surveying her with something like serenity in his face, except that his eyes were snake's eyes. Those sent an unbidden thrill in her.

She glared at him. "What makes you so sure of anything? That I won't shoot you? That I will follow you? And where do you want me to go?"

"Patience, Cagalli," His voice was soft and somehow gentler than what seemed normal in the situation. Below, there were still sounds of gunshots and screams and broken glass, things being shattered and cries for help. "Put that gun down. It's loaded wrongly anyway. You wouldn't want to do what you use that gun at all."

She did not examine it even. It was a trick, she was sure of it. But since when had he resorted to mind games? Wasn't it out of his nature to do that?

No, she told herself stubbornly. I can't trust him.

"I won't listen to you. You're playing mind-games with me again. You always liked to."

He shrugged. "You liked those."

"I don't! I never have! When you left I-"

Or the years would have been spent in vain. Forgetting was not simple, but he was defying all suggestions of his death by reappearing in front of her. She would never forgive him for that.

"I'm going to go down," Cagalli burst in suddenly, her eyes no longer on him but at the entrance, her heart beating a tattoo against her throat, "I'm going back to see what's happening. You can't stop me."

She was distracted and her thoughts were racing everywhere. Why had he appeared?

"Put it down." He said authoritatively and suddenly with a hint of impatience in his voice, "There's a lot of catching up to be done, and you're not going anywhere below the deck. "

"I just did!" She said, impassionedly, her hand still focused on his chest, where she knew his heart was, and she rashly took a step down from the entrance, "Don't come!"

He paused, looking at her.

"Don't come, I said," Cagalli hissed, "I don't want to shoot you."

"You won't." He said softly and somehow so lovingly that she was hypnotized and almost dropped the weapon, and she only stiffened when he took a step towards her. He suddenly extended his hand towards her, and her heart dropped to her stomach's pit.

"Come with me, Cagalli."

Instinctively, she flinched, but pulled herself up on deck again, coming closer so the gun was nearer to its target. "Don't come near me."

The yacht was still speeding, leaving the trail of foam on the mirrored surface, although the waves were choppy now. There was a storm brewing somewhere, and the skies would flash with violet and gold in the lightning. A trickle of rainwater whispered here and there, and she shook with outrage and fear.

He shook his head. "How many times do you want me to tell you this? You can't go down there."

"But they are in danger!" Cagalli cried her eyes were suddenly full of angry tears, "I only just met Pietre today! I can't stand here and allow them to be shot, can I? They must have infiltrated without anyone knowing, those terrorists-"

"They aren't terrorists," He cut in smoothly, "Not terrorists, per say. I'll explain it to you if you follow me. Don't you want the information?"

"Orb's got nothing to do with Scandinavia or the Denmark's incident! Information will do me no good at this point," Cagalli hissed, "Don't think I'll be fooled!"

"Nothing to do with it?" He raised his eyebrows, "Let's not be naïve here, Cagalli."

She did not quite understand or know what to suspect. And it maddened her because he had information he was withholding as a ransom. How she despised him.

"Don't call me by my name," She spat, still not lowering her gun, "And I never wanted to see you again, do you hear? I won't shoot you that much you know now, but I'm going below deck this very instant!"

Quite forgetting her vulnerability, she turned, exposing her back, and rushed towards the tunnel. But he took one step forward, caught her by her elbow and pulled her to him, enveloping her entirely. The flood of memories pummeled into the single entity that was their intertwined forms, and she screamed in her fury and fear and squeezed the trigger.

And so a shot rang out, clear and sharp, in the night air. The explosion of gunfire was quick and sharp in its scent, and the subsequent one soon robbed the gunpowder of its distinctive smoky perfume with the rusty edges of fresh liquid ruby being spilt on the floor.

Her vision was blurred with tears and something else, and her hands were red with blood, dripping and spreading everywhere on the deck.

She tried to laugh but coughed badly, and his voice was soft and distant as he stooped over her, a blurred image as her eyes fought to keep open in her shock. His own gun was out- he always carried one on him no matter what, that much she remembered. And the blood was rust in the salt of the air, and it was sickly sweet and crimson in a pool. The pain was blinding.

The rain pattered a little more as she heard moans of pain. And then it started pouring, and her thoughts were vague and blurred. Distinctively, she thought to herself that he hadn't changed very much these years, now that she could see him clearly. She coughed once, in a daze. Aaron would be terrified at the state of her ruined dress.

"Oh, Cagalli," She heard him whisper brokenly. His arms were strong and beautifully warm, but those were of little comfort as he cradled her, "You goddamn fool."

And then it clicked. The moans of pains were becoming faint and she realized, with a pang, that they had been hers. But of course it was becoming faint- she was too weak to cry in pain. Now, the world was fading too fast for her to cling on to.

She smiled weakly, remembering that someone had told her about irony being fate's lover. Without knowing anything anymore, she fell back, her eyes not caring to see beyond the black sea. And yet, the ghosts of the past that she had wanted to leave behind so badly began to cry out in the rain's roar.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**Chapter 2

* * *

"_You've been avoiding me, haven't you?"_

"_Who said that?" She mumbled. She looked around wildly, regretting how she'd chosen to come to this side of the harbor and dismissed her bodyguards during the meeting break. Why was he here now? How had he come here? Hadn't he already left?_

_His eyes were trained on her, and she felt discomfort at his proximity. It seemed strange that he wore the same uniform that she was wearing; but then he must have blended in with the other officials this way. She felt panic at seeing him this way—how he seemed to belong here. She had never meant for him to come back here. He should have never come back. _

"_I don't need to explain the certain. There was an official override of my application of a citizenship in Orb. But you couldn't deny my qualifications in the military, could you? I came anyway."_

"_No—, it's not that, I—," All the same, she backed away, like a beaten dog._

"_You didn't know that I was amongst the military officers here today, did you? And then there was a confidential move to transfer the Admiral Zala to a foreign camp. But it went up in smoke because the camp returned back to the capital. " His voice was harsh. "All these moves— yours?"_

"_I- no." And foolishly, she added, "I don't have an obligation to say anything."_

_He looked at her without any hint of emotion showing, although the air was already fraught with raw desire and impatience. "You're not a child anymore, Cagalli."_

_She chose not to look at him but mumbled, "I've never been one."_

_A pause—_

"_I came back to find you." His voice was even and revealed nothing. He held out something to her that glinted in its circular cast. _

_Scornfully, she flicked her eyes upward so that they would meet his. Inwardly, she was partially afraid of the emerald depths. "I won't fall for that. You aren't supposed to be here; not in this office, and not Orb either. You should be moving back to the Plants. You belong there, with your old money and status and all that inheritance of social standing. In Orb, you'd suffer with the mishmash of Coordinators and Naturals."_

_He took a stride forward, and she stumbled backward. In the next instant, his hands were palm-pressed against the wall, his arms forming an enclosure around her so she could not move. Her breathing was ragged. And yet, she found nothing in his face she could read. Why?_

"_Don't do this," He said softly, "I want you with me."_

_He might as well have slapped her. She looked at him with biting hatred and immeasurable fear in her face. There was little but a mute shriek of pain stabbing in her eyes. _

"_It's been over since the day I betrayed you, remember?" Cagalli said angrily, "I apologized and you forgave me, so it's over. Even."_

"_I won't unless you take this."_

"_Who the hell do you think you are?" Cagalli exploded. "There's no headway with threatening me like that, not when you maintained some sort of harem while I got engaged. Don't you get it? We were both unfaithful, so there's no point denying it!"_

_His expression darkened. "I don't care who you almost got married to, it was nothing but political will of those before us. And those other things are untrue—you know it as well as I do."_

"_Whatever the case," She said abruptly, knowing fully well that what he had said was true. "I don't have to watch while history repeats itself and we leave each other with a little less happiness than we had before. You understand, don't you?"_

_She watched as his lips thinned in a frown. _

"_Is that why you refused to grant an audience with me even when I came back to Orb?" His anger was undeniable. "Was my decision to hide my presence here today the only reason why you showed up?"_

"_None of your business." She said automatically. "Stay away."_

_It was then that she saw something changing in his face. Desperation, anger, pain, pride, lust, misery, desire and hopelessness. The emerald of his eyes was nearly black._

"_Why are you looking at me like th-,"_

_She gasped as her air was stolen._

_He had dipped his head down forcefully and seized her mouth. He had taken the breath of air that she'd only just had, kissing her and exploring expertly and reminding her who he was and who he had been to her.. He hadn't kissed her like that before—not even when he'd once put a ring on her and asked her to wait for him. It frightened her—this kiss. She knew what he was doing. He was daring her to respond to his ravenous hunt, but she fought free from him, throwing off the headiness of her own desire and the possessiveness of his kiss to push him away._

_She knew what he was doing. He was daring her to respond to his ravenous hunt, but she fought free from him, throwing off the headiness of her own desire and the possessiveness of his kiss to push him away_

"_I don't want you near me ever again." She panted. She took a step back. "Get lost."_

_He stood, frozen. But then a strange anger entered his face, and his eyes mocked her. _

_Deep inside, she was mocking herself. She had received his kiss— panted into it, in fact. She would never admit it, but they both knew. And now she regretted having shown her own desires._

"_Go." Cagalli said bitterly. "I'll ask you for the last time to disappear from here. Don't ever come back to Orb."_

_He looked at her, his mask in place once more, and his eyes emptied of anything humane. "Goodbye."_

_She turned away, her fist clapped over her mouth, rain streaming from her eyes. This ways, he would not see or hear her cry, and she would not see his back as he turned and walked away, the white and navy of the Orb uniform regal on his silhouette. _

_It rained very heavily that day, and the event had to be held indoors. She excused herself an hour after that, unable to go on with anything. The perfume of dew had sweetened and humidified the air, but when the day was over, she returned home, drew a hot bath, and remained there for quite some time._

_The colors were switching and the scene was evaporating. There were violets everywhere in the room and Lacus was holding a bouquet of them. They resembled someone's eyes with the intense aubergine shades and their dewy textures._

_The flowers were sewn in bouquets and their scents were flirtatious and coy. The bride looked like a swan of a woman, which was accurate for more than her appearance— Plant's princess was a radiant draft of sunlight in the cellar of the war-stricken lands. _

_Cagalli looked at her friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law's reflection from where they were standing in front of the mirror. Lacus was murmuring compliments under her breath, and her voice was like a ceaseless song. The order was never fixed or determined from the beginning and the only certainty to a listener's ear was that there couldn't possibly be an end._

_Today was a sacred day._

_However, irritation was marring Cagalli's beautiful features, features she did not quite know the power of when it came to men. Her hands were tight on a stool that they had placed in front of her._

"_Why a corset?" She exclaimed in frustration._

_Lacus giggled. "I thought you might enjoy it."_

"_Enjoy the absence of breathing air? Enjoy the pain-inducing pulling? You sadist, Lacus."_

_Her friend straightened her veil. "All the same, I'm glad that you're at my wedding. Kira was overjoyed to meet you here in Plant. I promise we'll all go out and catch up properly once this is all over."_

_Cagalli chuckled. "We have been keeping in contact, haven't we Lacus? I understand that you think the phone isn't good enough, but I do read the newspapers and catch sight of my brother and his fiancée enough for me to know what's going on."_

_Lacus looked bashful. "Sorry. Somebody leaked the information to the press before I could tell you the good news."_

_Shrugging, Cagalli turned back to the mirror. "I came, didn't I?"_

"_Yes," Lacus said pensively, "But Athrun—,"_

_Cagalli looked away from her reflection, afraid to see anything in her face. "Don't. Don't talk about him. He isn't around anymore."_

_He had been as good as his word— he had disappeared so rapidly and so effectively that the last of him that anyone had seen was that Athrun Zala had been at the shuttle grounds with a simple suitcase. That was all._

_It had been three years since then, and nobody had seen anything of him. Speculations had been raging for the first year when he had vanished. Some conspiracy-theorists said that Yzak Joule, Mirallia Haww, Dearka Elseman, Shinn Asuka and of course, Kira Yamato, had hidden him somewhere and bought him a new identity. But who and exactly why? _

_Yzak Joule had not issued an official statement about the great war hero, Athrun Zala's disappearance. He was the Generalissimo of Zaft by then, and no reporter dared to hound him or his fiancée; not after the incident where he had personally issued the removal of a certain someone who had certainly offended him. _

_Mirallia Haww was the least suspected of all Athrun Zala'a companions. She was a nomad, touring everywhere with a camera and issuing groundbreaking footage of the aftermath of war to the masses everywhere. She would not have hidden him successfully._

_Dearka Elseman was in the same position. He was always abroad and drifting here and there with no fixed location that he returned to. _

_Shinn Asuka was lying low. There were dozens who wanted his throat slit. He would have given his blood gladly, only that he knew his redemption was to live with the scars that he carried in his heart. He'd caused the same kind of scars to others._

_Meyrin Hawke was working as one of Plant's key secretariats, and it was unlikely that Athrun Zala would have returned to Plant anyway._

_Kira Yamato was the biggest suspect. But he simply had not hidden Athrun Zala. The newspapers had sworn it was him, but Cagalli knew better._

_Nobody could pinpoint why. And that rendered all the conspiracies as good as useless._

_Some said that he had been assassinated, some wondered if he had grown bored with the attention he received from being a war hero and his aristocratic background in the Plants. Of course, by the second year, the media had grown bored and just written him off as being dead but undiscovered. Cagalli had given up reading the newspapers._

_A few months after he had left, she had become desperate, trying every human and possible means to reach him, mind you, not find him, but at minimum, reach him. Kisaka never knew— Cagalli could be cunning when she wanted to be. Aaron had been the closest to realizing what had happened, but he hadn't quite known the past that Athrun Zala had shared with his employer, and so he had no reason to really suspect anything._

_But there hadn't been a way to find him even then. Athrun Zala had simply vanished into thin air. And sometimes, she thought it was better that way. If both of them had existed at the same time and in the same place, they would have met again and the events would have spun out of her control. _

_Cagalli was adamant about avoiding at least that much. Sometimes, she wondered if he was dead or alive and she would be filled with guilt. But in the second year after that incident, she had realized that he had already died where she was concerned. She had been too proud to say how much she needed him, and he had left. Wasn't that the same as killing his presence from her life?_

_All that she had were memories, and memories faded anyway. Sometimes, it was difficult for her to remember what he had been like, and whether he'd ever really lost his temper with her when he'd once lived in her house as a bodyguard. It was difficult for her to remember or identify what her feelings towards him had once been._

_She was not seeing anybody, however. Kisaka had suggested it and she had shot down suggestion after suggestion. But for his sake, and for the peaceful smile that blossomed when she finally agreed, Cagalli obliged time and again._

_Thereby began the social debutante role Cagalli was made to play. _

_She had seen the entire spectrum— descendants of royal blood, young captains, politicians with insidiously skilled words that fell flat on her disinterested ears, and the general humdrum of the male specimen. They were far from ordinary. However, Cagalli was simply not interested in anything more than their political power where Orb was concerned. Some of them engaged in deep discussions with her and ended up becoming rooted as friends and political allies. Some of them tried to extend the relationship to waters deeper than the river of platonic friendship, and most of them left in a fit of deep frustration at how far she was from their grasp. _

_There had been a hushed up scandal whereby a top-notch politician from some hushed-up country had visited, gotten drunk, and tried to kiss her. She had responded with a tight slap across his face, and the media had gotten a picture of her hand flying right at his cheek and shots of her outrage. Apparently, they had wanted to insinuate that she was 'of the other sort'. She wouldn't have minded actually— perhaps the clause in the book would have to go unfulfilled, the clause Aaron threatened her with. Funnily enough, he was so protective of her when other men threatened her with the same clause._

"_The last and immediate member of the last Royal House of Orb will do good to be betrothed and wed once the being in authority by the twenty-seventh year of birth. The House of Commons and specifically, the Council of Elders, will be the judge of suitability and compatibility for a harmonious union to be formed. Should the being in authority not follow this clause, the House of Commons and the Council of Elders will dictate the choice. Should the being in authority refuse to display obedience, the being in authority will then abdicate in favour of the next leading Emir of the next leading House."_

_There was sense to this clause, actually. It ensured that no royal family would monopolize the power in Orb. By being forced to marry, the power would eventually be dispersed to the next generation. No single being would hold all the power in Orb for eternity._

_Aaron could recite this backwards, and by extension, so could she. For that matter, so could the entire spectrum of suitors. Cagalli didn't bother recognizing them- they were just faces in the crowd. The last that had tried to use this to threaten her had revived a swift kick in the nether regions. He had left sobbing, and so had she. _

_First with laughter, and then-,_

_And then the sobs, in the private of her chambers, had become more than gleeful peals of laughter at the revenge she had served. Those were sobs that wrenched themselves out of her as grief poured down her cheeks and her voice filled itself and consumed its sensibility with regret and misery. But time healed everything. _

_Cagalli didn't mind the Prime Minister of Britannia, James Marlin, she quite liked him in fact; he was strikingly good-looking, vaguely suave and about seven years older at twenty-eight. Factually, Marlin was a brilliant, driven man. His dark hair, almost black but not quite deviant from brown was a tribute to his Irish descent, and he had deep emerald eyes, eyes that pierced anybody who looked into them for too long. _

"_Why don't we get married?" He suggested causally after about three month's worth of meetings. She called them 'meetings' he called them 'rendezvous', although he wasn't stupid enough to tell the newspapers that. He had her trust completely, and with good reason._

_She choked on her coffee and promptly burst out laughing. "Happy April's Fool, right?"_

"_No," He insisted, "I'm besotted by you. I don't know what you've done to my tea; you're neither tall nor dark like those I go for. Worse, you are fueled by coffee, but good Lord, I'm going to get you."_

"_Yeah." She grinned. "And I'm a fan of the Blue Cosmos."_

"_Hear me seriously!"_

_She sobered a bit. "It's only been about three months you know."_

"_It's enough."_

"_You're not exactly poor, and Britannia's secure by itself without Orb. No gain there."_

"_Precisely! I don't want Orb's power or money, I want you."_

_She shook her head, in less turmoil than she imagined she would have been in. "Hopeless. We'd hate each other within months of marriage. I'm too immature, and you're in the prime of your life. There's hardly common ground there."_

_He exhaled with frustration. "But we've been through everything a normal couple can go through!"_

"_Hey!" She exclaimed sharply, "All we did was attempt some badly-executed kissing!"_

"_Not my fault. Those demonic gardeners keep butting in. And the other time was a fiasco, the butler just had to pop in to see how we were doing. But anyway," He added hurriedly, "I meant going through the wars and building the countries from there and all that!"_

_He clarified this with impatience and a plea he had never heard before, at least, not in his own voice. Cagalli, in a military jacket and uniform, looked beautiful today. There wasn't any difference in her appearance, not to the effect when she accompanied him to balls in gowns that made his head spin and his imagination go wild, but there was a sort of simple pleasure he derived from being with her._

_Then Marlin looked slightly bashful which was a rare sight to see for the articulate, determined leader, "I'm a good old Catholic altar-boy, somewhere under the amassed sin and grime of this life. I'm pretty sure you'd hate me for even thinking this, since I'm a-, "He shrugged, "Healthy man, but I want someone of my own."_

_There was a terrible, awkward clap of silence._

"_You wouldn't know," She said hastily, "And besides, we aren't suited to be married. You'll find some other girl, get hitched, and live happily ever after as long as there isn't too much inflation in the long run and the Britannians don't want your head off your shoulders."_

_He laughed soberly. "You really think so? That we aren't suited? I'm not very much older than you, you know. Seven years is hardly close to a decade when it's less than seventy-five percent of it."_

"_Oh, Marlin," She sighed, "I'd always love you to be like this."_

_A pity, he thought, that she had ended the words with an additional four words. She got up gracefully and he watched with some dullness, as the first woman he'd ever loved, if she qualified as a woman in spite of twenty-one years of living, came by his side and for once, boldly brought her face to his, her hands warm against his cheeks. "Goodbye, Marlin. Call me in the morning."_

"_I won't commit suicide, you know," He said wryly, kissing her on her soft, ready mouth with a sincerity he never dreamed he was capable of. "Although your rejection is going to make me a roaring drunkard for a while."_

_She laughed a bright, happy sound and embraced him. She was warm and inviting in his arms but she was not his. She was her own person and her whole person belonged to Orb._

_He never called in the morning, but they continued to see each other over the years- at meetings._

_The newspapers never picked up on anything serious, but then, Cagalli never deemed anything serious in the first place. Those were favours to Kisaka, and when he retired, she stopped. The newspapers pounded on it like hounds for a hunt, and the scent of her going anywhere attracted cameras and mad reporters hungry for a story._

_Aaron had been disgusted and had promptly stormed on the warpath. 'Rigid and Frigid', the original tabloids had wanted to publish. But of course, Aaron quietly brought up their mortgages and they ceased to exist. A small amount of censure was necessary in every place. Too many men were claiming that Cagalli Yula Atha favoured them when she had not even allowed them near with a ten foot pole in her hand. And the deceit unsettled Aaron, who was extremely protective of her. Cagalli, however, did not bother. They were formless colors in a mesh of a palette her world was made up of. The clause would be put to the back of her mind until it was time._

_And now this. What had happened?_

_There was the rain, the blood, and Athrun's voice, telling her to stay still and to hold onto him. The sound of the sea roaring in her ears, the sound of an engine and something else, and someone brushing the ragged, wet hair off her face and stroking her cheek with feather light finger tips. Someone was whispering comforting things; things that she didn't understand in her pain, but comforting things nonetheless. _

_

* * *

_

Her eyes flew open, but thankfully, the room was so dim that no light could blind her eyes more than the pain rippling through her body, particularly her chest.

She cursed and began to cough, making terrible wheezing sounds that echoed in the room.

'Shit, Aaron,' She thought dumbly, wincing until she actually saw white lights even when her eyes were closed, "It hurts."

The flowers next to her were daffodils, flowers of a spring that she had only just witnessed in Sweden.

Someone at the door said emotionlessly. "I told them that you were allergic to those and yet in an hour—,"

Her eyes widened, and she sat up clumsily, momentarily forgetting the pain that had exploded upon her conscious self, and stared at him.

Athrun Zala was standing at the doorway, looking straight at her.

His mouth pursed in that strangely attractive manner that she had always been fascinated with. "Don't sit up. Lie back down so you don't do yourself a disfavor."

She was too stunned to use a few choice words.

His eyebrows lifted in fine arches over his forehead. "What's the matter? It's not like you've never seen me before, have you?"

"No," Cagalli spluttered pathetically, "But you— the yacht, that—,"

He smiled lazily and strode in. With a few deft movements, Athrun plucked the yellow and saffron flowers from their vase, and in the next minute, had throw them into a bin somewhere and shoved it out of the door. His hands were gloved, she noticed. The room was large, and the fan hung over her head like a white, giant four-leaf clover, spinning lazily, providing a little breeze, but not enough for her to catch a cold.

Unsettled, Cagalli glanced at herself and laid a trembling hand near her chest. Underneath the thin, pale cotton of the shirt, there were tight bandages and a throb near her collarbone. What had happened?

He was moving with his natural grace, but there was an urgency she could somehow sense as he began pulling a chair next to her bed and forcing her to lie back on the pillows he deftly arranged. And he looked at her, his face impassive, but there was concern etched in his features and he was gentle as he adjusted her body for the best support.

An unbearable silence passed, where he stared at her, not saying anything. But his eyes were questioning her, while she focused on the area between his nose and mouth, unwilling to look into his eyes.

Yet her eyes could not focus on one spot, they were checking his features everywhere, seeing if this was another extension of a dream or a reality that wasn't quite real either.

"What happened?" Cagalli said finally, her voice delirious, "What's going on?"

He looked frustrated for a split-second, but then a moment later, his face was cold and his intonation free of emotion. "You lost control and attempted to fire into the sky. Of course you didn't trust me when I told you that the gun wasn't loaded correctly. And you ended up shooting yourself in the collarbone. The fortunate thing was that you were wearing this."

He pointed lightly to the table side, where the sneeze-inducing flowers had been beautifully arranged in a blue porcelain stand only minutes ago. Next to it were fragments of the pigeon egg sapphire. They looked like little pieces of a frozen sea, chipped and cold, so delicate they would have cut her fingers if she had gathered them in her palms like the shards of broken glass.

She cried out in dismay, and Athrun looked slightly surprised at her cry. But then, his face lost even the traces of how startled he was, and he became an impenetrable fortress where emotion was lost in translation.

She of course, had no way to hide her exasperation.

"I am going to be in such a quagmire when I get back," She moaned distractedly, gripping her hair, "They made me wear this and I've ruined the damn thing. How the heck am I going to show them shards instead of the original Rupertian piece? My entire salary would need three months to cover this comfortably— damn it!"

He looked at her soberly; his expression neutral, but his mouth curved a little, just a little. "But it saved your life, or at very least, from further injury. You are accident-prone, I think."

Cagalli considered his words, strangely prioritizing the present over the past, even when she had so much questions and information she wanted to demand from him in an explanation.

Was she accident prone? She had hurt herself on the island that they'd been stranded on ten years ago. When he had piloted them both to safety in the Zaku of Armory One, she had hit her head on the ceiling on the weapon. Perhaps he was right.

"I would have noticed it normally," She said weakly, trying to justify her lack of trust in him, "But I was afraid that you would do something funny in the time that I was checking."

He looked at her in a manner that made her think she was being looked _through_, and not being looked at.

"I would have," He told her intently, "Catching you off guard is difficult."

Ire rose in Cagalli, and it was all she could do to resist pushing herself further away from the man sitting next to the bed that she lay on. "Stop playing mind games with me, Athrun!"

"Calling me by name now, are we?" He said wryly, "But here, my name is Rune Estragon."

"Rune Estragon," She tested it on her lips, afraid of the unknown, "I don't feel familiar with it."

He smiled thinly, a rather cruel smile, she noticed, something that was not unsuited for him, but something rather uncharacteristic. Puzzled, she looked at him, considering how little he had changed physically in terms of his pale skin, midnight hair and deep emerald eyes. It was almost as if she had seen him just yesterday, almost as if the past had never gone anywhere and he was still hurting her as badly as he could. His voice was still politely clipped as she could recall it being with strangers and his face revealed very little. How much had Athrun Zala changed, really?

"It's not familiar." She murmured, strangely upset.

"Naturally," Athrun murmured subtly, a pale hand straying across her legs to pull the blanket higher to keep her warm, "I only just told you that I don't go by the old name anymore."

She was stunned at both his words and the action he had just displayed, possibly because of the gentleness she had missed for so long, "Will you explain this to me?"

He looked at her and something broke in him, although he did not show it outwardly. Time had passed, and there were so many things that had changed. Had she? Probably not.

Her face was innocent still, her golden eyes wide and sable, and her lips were full and pink from her biting. Her hands were pulling anxiously at the edges of the blanket, and her gold hair tousled and tempting. He would have liked to run his hands through that mass of gold and bring her face to his, but then he shook the thoughts away and focused on the present.

In the hours when she had been unconscious, he had sat alone, angry and irritable. Nobody had been foolish enough to disturb him, although they assumed that it was for reasons outside his personal ones. The doctors had been ordered to keep her alive, and the foolishness of his order had stemmed mostly from helplessness and his own pain. Nobody had the power to keep anyone alive. Besides, she simply would not have died and would recuperate in a month at most, because she was still young and strong.

The bullet had missed her heart narrowly, because of the sheltered impact that the hard sapphire had provided, and also because her heart was located more towards the left than an average person. The inches had saved her.

She probably didn't know how close he had been to losing her just like that, for she lay there, waiting for him to speak, so innocent and unfamiliar with what he would tell her. He stared hard at her, and she gazed back, not very trustingly, but unflinchingly this time. There was too much that she was aching to know.

"Do you know where you are?" Athrun said eventually.

She peered around, taking account of her surroundings properly for the first time since she had awoken. "Um— the general hospital?"

"Looks like it," Athrun said offhandedly but with a touch of acridity, "And you should assume so for now."

"Assume?" Her eyes widened, and Cagalli gaped. "Where is this place, exactly?"

He smiled genuinely, taking note of her surprise. Had Cagalli really assumed his death, like the rest of the world had?

"This," Athrun said quietly, "This is the Isle."

He had said it simply, but there was a certain kind of magnificence in the title, and a degree of mysticism to it that she could not help but sense as she repeated the words under her breath. "The Isle."

The Isle. Almost like a secret, its name, she thought distractedly. He hadn't said it in an atypical manner, but it had achieved the same effect as him bringing her face near his for her to feel flush and heated, and then having him tickle her earlobe with its whispered name. Premonition rose in her, as well as the warning bells in her head. There was something strange about the secrecy, and the unfamiliarity of this made her feel unnerved.

"I will show you around once you are well enough to move outside," He said, with the air of someone who was used to getting his way and expected the same from her. So he had understood what she had wanted to say once she parted her lips. "But for now, I want you to rest."

She frowned. "Don't give me that. I'm twenty-five. I'm not a child anymore."

The familiarity of the words struck at them, and pale-faced she turned away.

In contrast, Athrun showed nothing except impassivity, although there was an obvious strain of something simmering under that paper mask with two tunnels in it for eyes. Those eyes were endless tunnels that looked at you and calculated your worth and never revealed their owner's worth. At that point, she was forcefully reminded of the daffodils, fresh but discarded, waiting for someone to take them away in with the waste, all the unused vitality.

Was he like that now and had she done that to him?

"In any case," Cagalli said hastily, "Tell me everything."

"I'm afraid not," Athrun responded, maddeningly calm, "Information is power here. I will hold everything unless I choose to give it up. You'll remain here until it is time."

The reaction was immediate.

"Bastard," She spat, her voice very cutting, "That's going against my rights!"

He had no right, she fumed, no right to take her back to wherever this was and make her stay as a captive of sorts here. What would those back in Orb be thinking now? What would Kira or Lacus think of her disappearance? Surely a day of being missing when she had been last sighted on that ship would be enough for Orb to declare a souring of relations with Sweden?

Cagalli was so busy with her thoughts that she hardly noticed Athrun's stony face and the hint of bitterness in his features.

But he pulled her face roughly to his, the palms pressing into her cheeks so that she stared right up into his face. Their breathing was badly constructed, like pieces of rags sewn back together with little depth or a suitable depiction, and she could sense the fury behind the mask he wore.

"Rights?" He breathed, eyes like slits in his face. "There aren't such things to speak of here. You'll learn this in time. And I will teach you."

She found that she was hypnotized, lulled and yet shaken by his eyes. Their color was darkened and soft, and she found something glistening in her own eyes but refused to cry. He had never been someone to be afraid of in a threatening sense, but things had changed. He was capable of killing her if he wanted to. She could sense that instinctively.

He gripped her, and she looked away angrily, focusing on the base of the wall a few meters away, half-closing her eyes, trying to force the tears from overflowing from the unknown grief that was piercing her and the dull throb of her temples.

He bent nearer, slowly, and fluidly, and before his lips touched hers, he suddenly released his hold, as if he had lost all desire to even be near her.

Her eyes opened wide, and the tears came, although she turned around so he would not see.

That was the second familiar aspect of the day. She had turned so she would not see him leave and so that he would not see her cry.

* * *

The next few days were traumatic in her prolonged experience of boredom. She lay in bed, unable to move because the instructions were clear and almost orders: She was not allowed out of bed. She slipped into hazy sleep for most of the time, tired by the medication and weak from her experience.

But she got to recognize some people during this time. There was a nurse who came to help her with her dressings each day, and there was a main doctor who was in his early-thirties, bright-eyed, bushy tailed, and incessantly cheerful.

She made friends with them quickly, but somehow expected that Miles Summon and June Requiem were merely aliases like Athrun Zala's new name. There was something sinister here. But for now, she enjoyed the little company that they could afford with their time. June was attractive, and most probably in her early thirties like Miles as well. She had dark hair of a vital raven shade, and had a heart-shaped face with the sort of prim mouth that looked like it was withholding many secrets. Cagalli suspected that this was so.

Often, June would hurry in, interrupting an ongoing conversation about little things that Miles like to converse with Cagalli about. And she would press files into his hands, her eyes worried and tired. And he would immediately smile apologetically at Cagalli and rush off, leaving her to wave and then drift into a new dimension of ennui.

From this, however, she gathered that if they were all so busy, there had to be other patients in this hospital. And that was natural for only a sizable population of people. So the Isle was home to others other than Athrun, no, Rune Estragon, June Requiem, and Miles Summon. But how many others? And what was the Isle in the first place?

There wasn't even a window in the room.

Undoubtedly, this room was clearly but not overtly and significantly bigger than her bedroom, with handsome mahogany wardrobes that contained things she did not care for. The vases never contained daffodils again, to which she had developed a slight intolerance for its pollen long ago; instead, it contained fragrant tea-roses in shades of yellow rimmed with delicate pink.

Three weeks passed, and she never saw Athrun again. Sometimes, she dreamed of him in the way that she used. But those dreams had gone when the numbness had settled in her after he'd left— a numbness that took over her whenever Aaron sometimes wondered where the famous war hero had landed up, or if he had even washed ashore as something alive.

She would see Athrun in her mind's eye, talking and smiling at her, saying things she couldn't hear or understand properly. And sometimes, she dreamed that his back was turned to her and that she would reach out and see him vanish. She dreamed of Kira and Lacus here and there, the way Lacus looked fidgety and flustered in her second trimester, the way that Kira calmed her with everything he did, from one look to a single across of his hand across her cheek, and how completed they were with each other.

Cagalli sometimes hallucinated about Aaron whining about how lazy and inactive Cagalli had been recently, to which she responded vehemently. And in her dreams of course, she would say that she was injured and had been forced to lie down. Mostly, she dreamed of Athrun and how much she had him to accept her and how much they'd hurt each other. But she would wake with a pain in her chest and a cry, her own cry that she had been roused by.

If two weeks had already passed with her here, without anyone knowing she was here, without her knowing where she was, then Cagalli could not doubt that there was something brewing below and something going on back in the world from which she had come from.

But each time she requested that either Miles or June tell her about what was happening beyond the Isle, or if she could have a newspaper, they would shake their heads and smile the same vacant smiles that made her think of anything but humans. Was this what they had been ordered to do?

She never once requested openly, for Athrun.

Once though, she had asked glibly, "I don't see much of Ath- I mean, Mr. Estragon. Do you know where he might be?"

They shook their heads and looked secretively at each other.

But his presence continued to plague her, and she never got used to it. How could she, when she was held captive here in this gilded cage, like a sort of forgotten pet? At various points, she was near to breaking point and came close to screaming at Miles and June for lack of any reason but sheer frustration.

Day by day, new things were added, until she looked around and realized that everything was a replica of the style of bedroom she had used a long time ago. Of course, it had changed since then. Seven years was not too short a time for a bedroom-revamp.

But Athrun hadn't known that.

And now, there was a rather disconcerting imitation of a fine table and chair that she had owned once. But she could not use it because she was confined into a bed. Nor could she use the couch with its long, slender legs perched near in a corner, despite the fact that it was long enough for one to recline and be fanned by servants with waxy green palm leaves for the rest of the day.

If one followed the line of vision from her day-drip to the length of the room, the finery was resplendent in its glory and the things impeccably arranged. If that was all to it, Cagalli would have accepted it as his way of trying to make her feel less foreign in this large room or small palace.

Here was where Athrun took a little liberty with the memories he had sustained of the interior of the bedroom that had been changed since then.

A vanity mirror, luxuriant with burnished metal and clear glass, was brought in one day, its drawers filled with things that rattled about temptingly. A few roses were put on it, soon to wither, soon to be replaced. A box awaited her, ornately shaped with a tiny cat poised to pounce on its lid, and the sparkling green stones set for its eyes made Cagalli think of the person who had supplied everything but was holding her captive at that very moment. The trinket cat, no bigger than her thumb, smirked at her, daring her to open whatever Athrun had left for her.

She looked away, swallowing. Would he expect anything in return, just like Hades in the way poor Persephone had taken the six pomegranate seeds and innocently swallowed them?

"You can open it when you get better," June had promised. "But only if you get better. Those are his orders."

Cagalli cursed inwardly. Damn that man for piquing her curiosity!

"June," Cagalli said inquisitively, "Can you tell me if the other patients have this sort of treatment?"

June look marginally dismayed for a second, but did not answer the question directly. "Are you displeased?"

"No," Cagalli responded hurriedly, "I'm delighted, really. But it seems rather—," She searched for a word, afraid of hurting the woman's feelings, "—extravagant, doesn't it?"

June Requiem shrugged. "The master is not an extravagant man, but he is generous enough."

"Say," Cagalli mused, "What does he do here?"

June Requiem shrugged in a show of not-caring, although her eyes were sharp.

Cagalli tried again. "Does he come often?'

The woman shrugged again.

"I suppose not?"

Shrug.

"Are there many in this place, such as yourself?"

Shrug.

"Are you kept busy like this all the time?"

Shrug.

The questions became increasingly disjointed, although the answer was still the same maddening one.

"Is the weather fine outside?"

Shrug.

Bitch.

But Cagalli instantly regretted thinking that about her once June left the room. Because June Requiem was obviously following orders and acting vague when it came to information outside this room, and even if Cagalli didn't like it, she had no choice but to accept the limited things she could know.

Two more weeks went by, and yet, Cagalli was not allowed out of the room.

"But why?" She protested vehemently, upset by the vague smiles that the duo were giving her as they did their daily checks.

"You are not well enough yet, Ms. Atha," Miles said smilingly, unbuttoning her shirt for the stethoscope to slip in, watching as she winced as the cold metal came in contact, "Not well enough to step outside of this room."

"I am!" She said violently, struggling to sit upright. She had healed remarkably well, and the tubes from her hand were being decreased faster than she would have imagined. In this room, the drip was something so foreign that Cagalli didn't even know why it was there. A close examination of her chest and collarbone revealed a fine red line that ran from the center of her collar bone downwards to the vale of her chest, but it was neither long nor conspicuous enough to warrant immediate worry.

June shook her head and smiled angelically. "Do not fret, Miss Atha. Mr. Estragon says you will be given solid food again once you are well enough. And we will spend more time with you, since you do not seem to like the books and things we have given you to entertain yourself with."

Cagalli threw a dark glance at the things lying near the bed, and scowled at both of them. Their vague smiles continued, but Miles' forehead gradually sported a wrinkle of a pained frown. While his frown was not quite discernable, it was growing, and June's smile was a few watts less bright.

Guilt struck at Cagalli. She was behaving like a spoilt child.

"It's not that I don't like the books or the things that you've so kindly brought," Cagalli said apologetically, "It's just that— I've finished those a long time ago and—,"

"We'll bring in more of a different variety then!" Miles cut in excitedly, his youthful face lighting up once more. June nodded enthusiastically by his side.

And Cagalli nearly tore her hair out with the flood of anger that swept in her very bones.

Damn Athrun! What was he trying to do?

The night was spent in turmoil, and she re-read every single book, or more accurately, flipped through each one. She did this until she got so irritated that they landed in a heap at the base of the large bed.

She tore papers from the notebooks that they had given her to jot her thoughts down, and folded paper planes, throwing them into the air. And then she wrote down her true thoughts that she had refused to put down in words for all these weeks, and then crumpled them and hid them under the bed as well.

She could have wept with anger and despair.

* * *

"_I'm absolutely overjoyed! He will be a beautiful baby, perhaps with your eyes, Lacus, or perhaps with your smile."_

_They beamed at each other, and Kira gently placed a hand on Lacus' shoulder. "Time to go."_

"_Take me with you!" She cried, remembering something strange._

"_But," they said in perfect unison, "You belong here."_

"_What?" said she in bewilderment, "This isn't my room, it isn't my private chambers!'_

_They looked at her with mute questions on their faces._

_Her words tumbled out in an effort to explain herself. "I was taken here by Athrun. He's alive, he's Rune Estragon now, and this place looks like my bedroom but it isn't, it's where he's put me. I'm not sure why but if I ask him, perhaps he'll tell me. This isn't my bedroom, don't you see?"_

"_No," Lacus murmured with a hint of secrecy, "This isn't."_

_She laid a hand on her swollen body, as if it held the mysteries of the world. Dazed, Cagalli stared at the milk white hand on the circumference of the pink globe of Lacus' body. And Kira pointed to the vanity behind, and Cagalli spun where she was sitting, and she was staring at her reflection, and there was a fine red scar running from her collarbone southwards. Her eyes fell on the tiny ornamental cat on the edge of the box._

"_That's pretty," He said in a distant, blurred voice. The ambiguity of the subject's beauty lay in the unfocused look he had in his eyes. She could not tell if he was looking at the reflection in the mirror or the cat. She settled for the latter, however. She would prove to them that they had to help her escape._

"_I never had that!" Cagalli exclaimed in a misplaced triumph, "See? He put it there himself, this isn't a place I belong to."_

"_But it suits you," Lacus interrupted laughingly, "And you're a captive here. You remember him, don't you? Athrun. He was never dead even in your memory."_

_Kira smiled warmly, but it curdled Cagalli's blood. "You were sick with worry when he vanished, weren't you? Although you didn't show it to anyone."_

"_How did you know?" Cagalli cried in delirious fear. "Nobody knew, not even you! Lacus as well, that-,"_

_Together, they uttered plainly, "He's come back for you.."_

"_No," Cagalli said desperately, reaching out to them as they looked blankly at her," Hear me. I can't stay here- I need to return to the world outside this chamber. Please I- I can't stay here. He'll never forgive me if he knows what I did to make him what he is today, I didn't mean to and I can't stay here, I can't-," _

"_But my dearest," Lacus said absently to her unborn child, her eyes loving and very deep a blue, "He wants her to."_

_Horrified, she looked back at them, but they were gone. _

_

* * *

_

When morning came, Miles Summon pattered in, his horn-rimmed glasses neat on his aquiline nose, and his eyes twinkling not cheerfully, but with a sort of false joviality, as per normal. He stopped by her bed, a clipboard in his hand. But before he could instruct her to remove her shirt, she sat upright, her eyes flashing beneath their darkened circles of sleep-deprived sockets, and her golden hair crackling with fury. Her gaze was very stubborn and she said sharply, "Send me Athrun Zala or Rune Estragon—whatever he goes by in this damned place."

Miles Summon looked surprised, but she could not care less that she was swallowing her pride to request for his presence. Desperation had driven her over the edge a long time ago. Now, this was its manifestation.

"Send for him!" She half-shouted.

Her throat was like sandpaper.

"Now!"

Her fists were clenched. Her nails, uncut for so many weeks, were digging into her palms, cutting them and drawing blood without her feeling pain or actual realization.

Miles looked deeply dismayed. "I can't. He told us specifically that he would come as and when he deemed it necessary. He instructed us to keep you occupied. After all, he said, you probably wouldn't ask for his presence until you were near the point of insanity or death."

"Mr. Summon!" She said stormily, her teeth gritted, and the blood rubbing into her white palms, "I am near the brink of insanity and at the crossroads of taking my own life. Now do as good as your name and get him!"

She glowered at him.

"I'm afraid I can't," Miles responded turbulently, thoroughly alarmed at what he saw, "There is no official way to reach him. And he will not come unless he deems it necessary, just as I have said. These are Mr. Estragon's exact words."

Cagalli looked as if she was about to scream, then suddenly, flopped back to the bed like a fish that had gone without the water's oxygen for far too long. And she pulled the blanket over her head. Her words were muffled but sufficiently clear.

"Then be gone."

What was happening in the world outside? Were Kira and Lacus worried about her? How would Aaron cope? If he had been the last to see her in Orb, he would surely be under inquiry— the system was not kind to suspects. As for those on the yacht, would they be brought under inquiry? What about those amongst the politicians and the leaders of Scandinavia? Were they coming under fire as well? And the bodyguards— what if they were put into questioning and wrongly accused of treason?

Her thoughts drifted to the way Lacus had looked in her third trimester, glorious and heavenly, full and with moonlight radiance. Cagalli had wanted to see her again before going to Sweden, but there hadn't been time. And Kira had warned her before she had gone to Scandinavia, in the same words as Aaron, that ultimately, Orb was seen as a shield for whoever could befriend it. And Sweden then, was surely in need of military might. She had responded blithely by promising her utter indifference to the issues pertaining to another country's domestic issues, and Kira nonetheless, had told her that he would not quite rest until she returned.

"I'm sorry." Miles said uncomfortably, and she detected a certain degree of empathy in his voice that nevertheless, did not comfort her. The footsteps grew further and fainter, and the door clicked- she knew how tightly it was locked at this stage. It always took them two or three minutes to get in at each time.

"No," She said quietly to herself, muffled by the blanket and her desperation. "You will be."

* * *

By nightfall, her will was resolute.

June stood by after discovering her, and attempted all sorts of measures, but those were to no avail. It was all in vain. And Cagalli cheered herself silently, although her temples were throbbing. She closed her eyes tightly as if she were sleeping for eternity, praying something would happen soon.

June soon fetched Miles. Once again, they tried to talk to her, and they tried to convince her that everything would be alright, and that things would sort themselves out soon enough. They changed her covers but had to leave the bed sheet because she remained immobile, and she sensed that Miles could not quite bring himself to touch her for an unknown reason, while June had no strength to lift her.

They tried to brighten the room with new flowers, and the next morning, the flowers were found withered and lifeless, as if somebody had trampled them and threw them back into a corner.

Then Miles came in with breakfast and tried to convince her to eat. Bacon, some eggs and toast, lightly done with some luscious strawberry jam.

When she refused, he left the tray there. Afternoon came and went, and there was no difference.

Her body was weakening rapidly, but the streak of stubbornness was becoming so apparent that there was really no other logical explanation as to what to do if they did not want her to die. They brought in more things, an easel to sketch and new books, and Miles promised to leave all his patients for a day and converse with her for as long as she wanted. And she sat up and said weakly, "Will you tell me what I want to know?"

Miles fell silent, and Cagalli scorned him with her eyes for one brief, bitter moment before she lay back down, listless and crumpled, her back facing him with her face turned to the wall.

Evening came, and June tried to convince her that she was doing herself harm. Cagalli refused to respond. She shut her eyes, covered herself with a blanket, and as childish as it was, remained silent, no talking, not eating anything, and withering away.

She could hear Miles and June arguing outside the door, although their voices were muffled. But they were upset, clearly, by what she was doing. And she grinned to herself, not quite sane anymore, but morbidly triumphant with her plans. Soon it would come to pass.

Morning came again, and the same cycle repeated. Then afternoon, according to the clock. This time, Miles tried to literally lift her out of bed, and he was rewarded with a punch to his jaw, and a scream of shock from June. He apologized, seemingly more afraid of what he had done than what she had one as revenge, and for a minute, Cagalli was scared that she had gone too far. But there was no turning back if she needed to escape.

And evening arrived, although her cell showed no difference except the meal that was brought in.

She ignored it and continued to face the wall, putting her forehead to its cool surface to give her some respite. In side, her entrails were begging for nourishment, her mouth dry and her bones aching, but she persevered.

Miles sighed, June sounded tearful when she begged Cagalli to eat. But it was all in vain.

And then the door was closed, and Cagalli closed her eyes briefly, waiting for the series of mechanical locks to sound, signaling another day had passed. But it did not come.

Slowly, because she was so weak, she opened her eyes, cracking and forcing them open, pushing the eyelids up, and then she was aware of somebody who was in the room.

Athrun Zala had arrived.

"Cagalli," She heard him say curtly, "Get up and face me."

She wanted to say that she would do as she pleased and would not get up and turn around until he let her go, or at least, get out of the room she was imprisoned in. But all that came out was a soft, rasp that was muffled by the blanket anyway, and she was too weak to even reply.

And he made an impatient noise, his shoes clicking hard and unforgiving on the marble floor, and in one movement, had knelt on the unoccupied side of her bed.

His breathing was hard and angry, and then he yanked her upright, forcing her to roll over so violently that she was facing the ceiling, belly up. She stared at the fan near his ear, observing the way it rotated dutifully near some strands of his midnight hair.

He was positioned over her, his face harsh and no longer that impassive mask.

"What are you trying to do, Cagalli?"

His voice was a lash, and she would have flinched, except that white lights were dancing in front of her eyes. She felt almost feverish, but yet, not quite.

"I'm trying to teach you that you won't get away with doing this to me," Cagalli tried to say, but a soft, mewling sound, somehow helpless but simultaneously stubborn, emerged instead.

In the awkward, somehow tender manner of their contact, he stared down at her. Her eyes were crescents, half-closed, a vague look in them as if she couldn't remember what had happened. Her mouth was slightly parted to reveal a soft panting.

Her arms were by her head where he had thrown them, and her shirt was still unbuttoned to reveal a fresh bandage, one that was significantly less heavy than the initial ones. She had recovered, he assumed, but she was intentionally slowing her recovery just as it was almost completed to provoke him.

A bead of sweat, along with his eyes, trickled from her forehead and crept down to the hollow of her throat and the valley of the soft white breasts. He looked away. Her pants were faint and painfully delicate, and she gave a tiny cough.

Then slowly, as if he had emerged form a reverie, he left off and came to stand by the side. She remained immobile where he had left her, eyes still fixated at the ceiling, head lolling hopelessly by her shoulder.

"What have you done to yourself?" He asked stormily. "Why are you doing this?"

And then her voice forced itself painfully, through the cracks of disuse and a dry throat. "So that you would come."

The bitterness was apparent.

Athrun looked frustrated. "Did you have to resort to starving yourself for four whole days?"

"Yes," She whispered, drained of most of her strength although her will was still solid and unshakable. "Because you wouldn't tell me what was happening otherwise."

"I could have let you die," He said briefly, looking at her with an indiscernible expression on his face, "And it would have all been in vain."

"But you came," Cagalli reminded him, her breath constricted and shallow.

He remained silent, his eyes shaded and his mouth twisted. And then he sighed, an empty breath of air, and he nodded.

"Let's have an arrangement then. A deal, if you like," Athrun said finally, looking at her from where he stood, "You'll get up, allow Nurse Requiem to bathe and dress you, and you'll have dinner with me."

Her eyes opened a little wider, although she looked like a poor replica of a living thing, a languishing being or a soon to be extinguished fire at best. Her spirit had been broken, and something in his chest felt like a sharp, sour pain was spreading.

"What will you offer?" She rasped. He noticed her palms- caked with dried blood, and bit back a snarl of anger. They had allowed his spitfire to do this to herself. A dark ire rose in his face, but he concentrated on Cagalli.

He cleared his throat lightly, concentrating on her face. Then he stripped his hands of the thin, white gloves that he had been wearing when he had entered.

Without knowing exactly why, her eyes flew to the slender columns of flesh that were his fingers. Those were slender and graceful, like pianists' hands, except that these hands could caress a rose's petals or strangle a fully-grown human according to what the situation called for.

"What do you want?"

"What do you think I want?"

They spoke in whispers, almost as if they were lovers. But this was not so. Her eyes were dead and his were emotionless. She was languishing and he had a strange possessiveness in his body, and yet, they were both filled with a violence that they understood about each other.

The fingers trailed temptingly across her face, tracing one eye-socket, the other, the tips of her cheeks and then her lips before those came to rest. His fingers rested in one fluttering movement so that his palm framed her chin in his cupped hand, and now, she was unable to look away from him.

"I'll offer you information."

* * *

_5 months. 23 days. _


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**

Chapter 3

* * *

The room was bathed in golden light. The sounds of water running in a porcelain tub reverberated to where he sat, and he imagined her damp golden hair, its ends curling slightly, as she sat with her knees pressed to her in the warmth of the water.

He closed his eyes wearily. The sequence was in the order of the chaos planned.

This was exactly what they needed. He would recall the falcon to his shoulder as the falconer. She would fly into a rage, no doubt, in this tiny existence, the room ceiling her sky, the lush maroon carpet the tuft of grass, just as the world was blown into turmoil outside this place. She was already breaking from the stress of being alone in this place where she was given everything but nothing that she wanted.

Now she wanted information. And he knew he could not refuse her— or at least, she had made sure of that. He listened to the water running and wondered when it was that the sight of blood had started to sicken him.

Now, Athrun waited at the table that he had ordered to be brought in since a week ago, staring into space, and his were thoughts in turmoil and his mind in an engorged swell of memories. He had underestimated Cagalli, perhaps not for the first time. He had caged her while fully knowing that Cagalli would have gone mad when he did what he had to do.

It was understandable why she was behaving like this- like a caged animal. She was one.

In spite of all of this, Athrun had still gone ahead with it. There would have been no other way if he wanted the plans to be executed perfectly. Already, the first step had gone wrong— the skirmish on the royal yacht had led to her shooting herself, and that had not been what Athrun wanted.

* * *

"_We must hurry." His friend said over the wind and the sea's roar._

_The yacht was rocking and the blood was everywhere on his hands._

_He looked up with wildness in his face. "Is everything ready?"_

_The other man nodded. "Yes. Will you leave her here?"_

_He took one look at Cagalli, unconscious and the wound gaping open. The bullet was impaled in the collarbone and the blue sapphire nothing but glass shards on a long silver chain now. "With the skirmish they created, nobody will think of searching for her on deck. Her bodyguards won't reach her in time."_

"_But you know as well as I do," His friend interrupted, "That if we take her like this without her consent, then your head will be one step nearer to the guillotine."_

_He made up his mind then. "No. She's coming back to the Isle with me."_

_He had no other choice if he wanted her alive. The cage was ready— but no cage would hold a dead bird's freedom when it already had none. _

_

* * *

_

Flashes of her haunted face darted in his head, and the shadows under her eyes shot at him as he closed his eyes. The way she had been sprawled over the bed, without the will to move, had been disheartening, to say the least. Had his efforts at keeping her occupied gone to waste?

His instructions to the caregivers had been simple. They were to feed her, to ensure her needs were more than well met. He had asked them to ensure that she recuperated as well and as soon as possible, and to withhold information outside the confines of the room until he returned from business. They had failed in one respect, perhaps the most important one of all the above.

Athrun was an impatient man when it came to these things, although he chose to remain silent on most occasions. Now, he surveyed the bowed heads of Miles Summon, head doctor and one half of the caregivers he had asked to be assigned to Cagalli.

The room was filled with the sounds of water splashing and some protests of Cagalli as June forced her into a tub. The commotion could have been unapparent, as far as Athrun was concerned. Almost elegantly, save for the muted tension beneath his calm demeanor, he sat in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, an elbow resting lightly on the upturned knee so that his long fingers were folded, their joints bending, under his chin.

"An explanation, if you please," Athrun said to Miles. The sardonic language in his body was not overt, but the nuances were certainly there. And the man found his intestines twisting themselves together as he controlled the instinct to sweat full buckets in front of his master.

And Miles looked up very briefly, but it was enough for Athrun to see the bruise that he had refrained comment on when he had first rushed here. It was an ugly one, throbbing and purple, and inside, he pitied Miles. Cagalli was a mad tempest when provoked, and she had let herself go. Athrun sighed inwardly, imagining what must have transpired for her to have hit his subordinate.

But the man had ignored his instructions, and this was what he deserved.

"We tried to make her eat," Miles said in a very low voice, almost inaudible, "But she got so frustrated that she lost her will to cooperate. Forgive us. We should have used tranquilizers before she resorted to violence upon herself."

"I understand that much," Athrun said sedately, "Rather, I want you to explain the bruise you sport."

The man nervously fingered the swell, wincing lightly. If he had wanted sympathy, he got none.

Athrun stared at him without emotion, and Miles shivered inside. He had respect for Rune Estragon, without a doubt, and the man was a force unto himself on The Isle, but that did not make him any less a stranger to Miles Summon. And Cagalli Yula Atha- what had she done to deserve captivity like this? Who was she to Rune Estragon other than a card they needed to complete the game with the odds stacked in their favor?

"Sir," Miles said plaintively, like a spoilt child deprived of his candy "I don't mean to be rude, but what will we achieve of bringing an Orb Princess here? She will not understand what we have set our hearts to complete, and she will not aid us here on the Isle. And she is frustrated with the inability to return to the present on goings and naturally inflicts harm on herself due to her frustration. Why don't you let her go and-,"

"I asked for an explanation, Miles," Athrun cut in genially, a hint of warning in the winter of his tone, "Please."

The man bowed his head again, regretfully. "In my desperation to rectify the situation, I tried, physically, to lift her out of the bed because June could not do it. She resisted and when I persisted, she attacked."

Athrun's face registered nothing for a single second and then outrage contorted his features.

"I told you not to touch her!"

The savage extent of his voice spanned the length of the room. If Cagalli had not been treading in the depths of the deep bath at that point, she would have surely heard.

"Sir, please," the man quavered, "It was a slip of the mind, in all honesty. I did not mean to provoke her— believe me! I'm sorry!"

Athrun considered this, and sat back heavily, breathing hard. And then he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and then sighed. "I'm sorry too, Miles. It's been a difficult time for all of us, hasn't it? These three weeks have been nothing short of chaos."

The man was too frightened to reply, and Athrun sighed and waved him off. But he did not stay long as well, and in a few minutes he had slipped out, first collecting his gloves that he had only just removed for a little while, making sure that he had not touched anything but his knee as he had sat.

When he was certain of the precautions he had taken, he slipped the gloves and moved out as quietly as he had came in. He had not removed his coat, however, so he had nothing more to take.

But underneath the coat, his suit was stiff with dried blood. It was not his own, but another's.

By the time Cagalli was suitably dressed and freshened from her sustained spree of damage to herself, she looked none the worse for wear.

June had sent for two maids to outfit her, and they had picked a pale blue gown with a tapered train that revealed the front of her legs, with relatively comfortable shoes to match. A little make-up had been applied to mask the dark circles under her eyes, and some color had been regained in her cheeks and lips. The rest had come naturally as they forced her in front of the vanity and brushed her hair until their arms ached and her hair shone, the ends clearly at her shoulders now, and adorned her with a matching set of opals that swung from silver strands from her earlobes with a string of them on her wrist.

She declined the necklace.

A note awaited by the table, and she picked it up and noted the quality of its print and the sheen of its gold-embossed corners. And this was only a note. The possibility of him consciously flaunting his wealth and power here was slim— there was carelessness in his language and the slanted, elegant scribble, if such a thing were possible. So that left one other possibility- the Isle was certainly not a beggar's one. Or at least, not for Athrun.

"_Meet me once they have prepared you sufficiently. They will lead you there."_

She glanced at the maids, who were consulting a separate note Athrun had probably left for them. Two young girls, and their origins she could not place. This was not unlike June and Miles who were clearly of European descent but had too much mingling of other heritages to look entirely pure in that respect. These two had strangely pale hair that was not a washed-out blonde like Pietre's had been— but a strangely lavender and grey one. Were they Coordinators?

But Cagalli was too distracted to ask them. And she doubted that they would have answered her. In fact, they did their tasks as quietly as mice and led her to the door she had been fantasizing about tearing open with her hands for the past few weeks. Her heart was thumping its erratic pattern again, and her palms were sweaty.

Then one stepped to her, holding out a black horizon of cloth.

"If your Excellence pleases."

"A shawl?" Cagalli said nervously, putting her hands self-consciously to her throat. She wondered if she had made a mistake by declining the necklace. It would have concealed the plunge of the neckline, even though the consolation was that the sleeves were long and furled open at her elbows, even though the material was mostly sheer.

The one who she took to be the elder, since they were clearly twins, shook her head. And in one quick instant, they had curtsied, almost as if asking for forgiveness, and held it out, still not saying anything. And she understood.

Shrugging, she took it, and tied it around her head so it formed a blindfold.

Small, pertly-shaped fingers were adjusting it, tightening it, and she sighed internally, cursing Athrun for having as careful attendants as he was himself. The secrecy of everything was nagging at her, pulling her thoughts here and there, but she steadied herself and felt two pairs of hands take hold of each of hers, leading her forward gently.

The door was unlocked, and she stepped through, a sense of fear sweeping into her, but a strange kind of joy as well. It wasn't freedom, that much she understood, but still, she would not begrudge this. If he had his reasons, she would hear them during the meal. And her heart soared- perhaps this was just a dream, perhaps she would wake to find herself back in Orb with normalcy on the list of priorities.

She did not hear any sounds while they moved slowly because of her handicap, but her footsteps, unsure and slightly stilted were comforting at least, on the rich carpets of the hospital grounds. Because she was going somewhere- she was moving forward, and she would understand at least.

Then she felt the small fingers untying the knot at the back of her head, and she clenched her fists, trying to contain her excitement, and then the cloth slipped off, and suddenly, the renewed aspect of her perception slipped into place, and she was hearing the cool evening breeze singing her ears as a balcony she faced extended into a violet and dusk horizon, the birds soaring far in the distance where the sea was. There was, however, no coast in sight.

A silent cry grasped its way out of her as the impact of its beauty rushed everywhere into her vision, and her hands were upon the cold balcony bars in a single instant as she reveled in something she hadn't realized she had missed seeing for so long.

But the moment was interrupted by a slight sound, and she turned around to see Athrun standing elegantly by a table, one hand on a chair he was waiting to usher her into. Candles were upright in brassy, elaborate designs of stands, whereby projected four-point stars of light hung slightly at the apex of each flame, sheltered by the wind in the glass orbs. Startled, she stared at him, losing her ability of speech.

"Dinner awaits," Athrun said briefly, holding out the chair for her.

The two girls, one holding the black scarf, bowed in perfect unison, and turned a corner or two behind a maze of hedges. Had she come from there? She could not tell. They had not spoken, and no rustling of leaves had been heard at all. But still, logic told her that there would be another entrance- perhaps there was another she had gone through.

What had he not wanted to show when she had came here?

And why was there so much being shrouded by mystery, on top of all that he had not revealed to her when she had met him again after eight years?

For that matter, why had he secretly instructed the two maids to face her by the evening view when they had slipped off the blind, when he had clearly been there when she had arrived and had been waiting for her?

Hesitantly, she stepped towards Athrun Zala. When he had left, eight years ago, she had realized how little she really understood of him. Now, it seemed that an entire ocean was in between them.

His eyes were kind and his smile gentler than she could have recalled after the Second War, and awkwardly, she let him guide her to her seat while he assumed his.

An attendant served them the appetizer, and suddenly ravenous, Cagalli ate whole-heartedly, while he merely sipped from his glass with the interest of a collector viewing a rare item. It was clear that he was looking solely at her, although the expression on his face didn't reveal much.

She ignored him, however, and continued, until the first pangs of a returned starvation had been extinguished. Embarrassedly, she glanced at him, but he only smiled encouragingly and drank a little more.

When the main course was served, the pink flesh of salmon with a creamy sauce and red cabbage, Cagalli ignored it and glared at Athrun. He studied her superciliously now, as if mocking her.

She bit her lip, feeling less than placid now. He however, looked as if he was comfortable enough to lie down and take a nap in full view of the setting sun. He was well-dressed, in a simple dark suit with a maroon shirt, although he had not bothered with a tie and had left the first few buttons undone for better appreciation of the spring evenings. She noticed a slight but clearly-defined mark there on his white skin, and knew enough to suspect.

It was not quite dark yet, due to the daylight saving hours, and all the better, Cagalli thought furiously, for me to see his expression when I tell him how I'd like to kill him.

The place was large enough for ten other tables to fit comfortably into the parameters, but a row of hedges blocked one end, and the sky framing her end. It was clear by now, that the balcony was a rooftop ballroom- but the other half lay behind the decision of hedges. It was impossible to see any clear distinguishing landmarks with only the sea behind her. If she wanted to check, she would have to pass Athrun to move over the hedges.

He looked at her with a soft smile on his face, and she was disconcerted to realize that he could probably guess her thoughts. She had been staring at the space behind him.

"I want to start with the most apparent questions first," Cagalli said sharply. He cut a thin piece of his meal and tasted it, nodding slightly as if the expertise of the meal's maker had more significance than her questions, but she held her ire and waited.

Finally, he looked at her. "Ask away. But I will withhold the questions that I can't answer without lying."

Her eyes widened with dismay. "But Athrun! You promised!"

"I promised you information," Athrun said simply, picking up his glass by the long, graceful stem with his equally slender fingers, "Not the answers to every single question that you'll instinctively ask."

Cagalli noted that the fork was very near her. She could use it and lean over quietly, and then when he wasn't looking, she'd stab him in the eye and threaten him unless he gave in and told her exactly what was going on. Oh, the temptation was so great and-

"Well?" He prompted. "You're already fulfilling your part of the deal, so do you want to allow me to back out on mine?"

She bit back a retort and said instead, in the most controlled tones that she could probably have mustered, "No. I'll make do with the information I obtain."

He nodded, pleased, and she took a deep breath and plunged in. The food lay forgotten in front of her, but he continued as per normal.

"First," Cagalli said breathlessly, "Where is this place?"

He considered her question, chewed a little, swallowed methodically, and looked at her, his eyes sharp even though he appeared relaxed. "The Isle's location is a complete secret even the inhabitants will keep to themselves. But I can tell you that we are amongst the most remote corners of the Danish Archipelago where the North Atlantic Ocean and the Norwegian Sea conjoin as a border. You are well-versed in the history and geography of the region, are you not? The war wrecked most of the region. Simply put, this place has been untouched and forgotten since the first signs of conflict in war."

The silence was deafening.

"What?" Cagalli cried, "You mean this is an isolated place and nobody can get here?"

"Nobody but the people who are already here."

The ambiguous nature of his answer stirred irritation in her and she glared at him, but he shook his head enigmatically.

"I will not reveal anymore. You can choose to press a futile source or move on."

She took an angry swig of her white wine to calm her frayed nerves.

'This is ridiculous,' she argued inside, 'He's taken me to the place where the terrorists are rumored to be targeting, and there are hundreds of islands on the archipelago itself! Even if I figure out the location of this place, I can't give its name to anyone I might contact, and the worst thing is that this place is probably a secret location to start with the most dire of things!'

"No, we'll go on." Cagalli said morosely. "Now, tell me why you changed your name and cultured a new, well, I assume new, identity."

He smiled dryly, signifying with his eyes that she should continue to eat anyway, but Cagalli found that she had lost all appetite in her frenzy to find out what was going on. She had deprived of information for so long that nothing else mattered, and it might not have affected her as much if she had not confirmed for herself that Athrun was alive and obviously well. The treatment in the hospital room had been first-class admittedly, and the food here was exquisite. If he had brought her gowns like these and trinkets to amuse herself with, trinkets that cost fortunes, then clearly, Rune Estragon was no simple, slightly above-average run-of-the-mill man.

He shrugged with the focus of a butterfly darting from blossom to blossom. "I got sick of the old one."

"Athrun!" Cagalli exclaimed impassionedly, her eyes darkened and her mouth wrenched, "Stop being cryptic!"

In response, he smiled. "If you must know,-"

"I must," She said tersely.

"If you must know then." Athrun said leisurely, "I wanted a new lease of life in a different place. As you can well imagine, if I returned to Plant, I would have been embroiled in the same place and a different but essentially identical set of politics. Lacus is one good example of one who has been shaped by the war and will therefore have to bear the Clyne name on her shoulders by simply returning to Plant. She has done so and is bearing the consequences now. Kira is expecting his first child, is he not? I expect the child will have much to live up to, the way Lacus must live up to her father's achievements, or more accurately, surpass him in what he could not achieve before his premature death. I, on the other hand, do not want ideals to live up to."

So he had been following the news outside The Isle, if he knew all that had transpired. How much more was he aware of?

Cagalli shook her head. "But you took your inheritance here to the Isle, didn't you?"

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Funny how you should mention it. That vase you smashed in one of your less dignified moments will cost a pretty penny. And yes, I took my inheritance with me. I have every right to, would you not agree?"

She scowled. "And it's been sustaining your lifestyle?"

His expression turned slightly wintry. "Contrary to your beliefs, the inheritance, with my advisors' calculations that are estimated at the worst possible scenario and the most extravagant of lifestyles, will last me only to about two hundred and seventeen years from this one onwards."

Cagalli harrumphed. "Which is eternity. I thought so."

"But," Athrun said flippantly, as if he had not heard the sarcasm in her voice, "Some people believe in making their money work for them. I think it's fair to insinuate here that I am one of them. And on a side note, I don't intend to live to the ripe old age of two-hundred and forty-five, I'm afraid. The businesses I inherited were valued at twenty-nine hundred billion when I was officially recognized as the exclusive shareholder. Since then, they've come a long way. Of course, I had help."

He sipped his wine patiently, ignoring the way that she choked. That bastard!

"You never told me this!" Cagalli spluttered, "I mean, I suspected you were up to your eyebrows in money, but this is ridiculous! Since when has your family been the offspring of emperors and all the richest asset-holders in the history of the Cosmic Era and before?"

He looked bemused now. "The Zala House isn't the richest one in Plant. The Amalfis were originally tied with the Joules about fifty years ago, although the Joules are now in the lead, since they were direct descendents from Italy's royal bloodline and the English Royals respectively. Of course, the Joule House was a distant bloodline to the direct Jacobean one. Have you never suspected why Nicole and Yzak never quite saw eye to eye?"

"I don't understand something here," Cagalli muttered.

He laughed. "The Amalfis were a very powerful, or at least, the most powerful house in Italy. The Duchess of Amalfi, apparently, had too much air element, she was said to have possessed. Nicol, I think, was only one of the long line of those who inherited that personality trait."

Cagalli was silent. She had seen a picture of the fifteen-year old, bright and splendid with youth, grinning and waving at the camera with a puppy's playfulness but an overwhelmingly prominent intelligence in his eyes. And her brother had killed him.

"The Joules, on the other hand, took on fire, the choleric element, pronounced mostly in their ascent to power. And over the centuries, they seemed to have transferred this in their descendants' personalities. The turn of their social hierarchy came with the shift and dependence to Science, I supposed, and since then, they've been embroiled in a large part of economy and the military. Ezalia Joule, I think, was the only female who bothered with politics."

"No wonder then," she said with some awe, interposing him, "That the Joules are a strange lot. I never knew how deep the history of these families ran. And yours? "

His expression turned slightly wry.

"The Zala line, I'm afraid, has its roots in European merchant Houses that dragged their way up into royal lineage. One of the daughters was quite beautiful, I read somewhere. The Lord Chancellor of Bohemia took quite a liking to her, and when he died, she moved on to the Prince's steward, and then the Prince himself. So the Zalas were quite the scum of the earth at that time, I presume."

She was fascinated, not so much by what he had told her, but by how little he seemed to be affected by the weight of the history. The Elsmans, she realised, must have had similar backgrounds. Their sons had been volunteered to the war, and with it, the possibility of the history being brought back to dust from the dust it had been borne from.

"Have you wondered why so many in the Plants, or at least, the highest in social standing, have ties to the most powerful families in the world?"

She had. It did not seem probable that the most powerful families and those with the longest history of wealth and access to might were congregating in space colonies by mere coincidence.

"It seems fair," Athrun said simply, "That we can assume everyone believes in progress, regardless of the paradigm shifts of religion and science. Of course, we must ignore the bloody Valentine for now- those gave rise to radicals and madmen. My father was one of them. And if all people belief in progress, it seems likely that the most powerful families across continents and seas would have devoted themselves to making it."

Her eyes were widening, and suddenly, everything was coming in snippets of flashbacks.

"Assume now," Athrun continued, "That progress in the Cosmic Era, came in the form of a development of Science that extended to even what completed and composed the human body."

"The technology that altered genes," She said in disbelief.

He looked at her with some satisfaction. "Correct. And if that was a development that would change so many things, priority was given to those who could afford it. That, you realize now, was the starting point of the Plants being a society of only the aristocrats, literati, some bourgeoisie and wealthy merchants. Most of these already had ties to the oldest and most powerful families in the world. Of course, those did not matter once the rest who were not Coordinators condemned them and the distinct shift of society became a dichotomy of those who had meddled with their genes, and those who had not."

"But," Cagalli said disbelievingly, "The fact that the Coordinators had been some of the most powerful people on the old Earth was never forgotten, was it?"

He shook his head. "Or forgiven either. It made it even more justified for the Naturals, or those who believed in the Blue Cosmos anyway, to cleanse the world of the filth that were aristocrats and the like who had even defied Nature now."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "And you're going to live your life out like this? In the lap of luxury, without a single goal to achieve, without any motivation to get out from wherever this place is located in the sea?"

Athrun looked as composed as ever, but she had the impression that he was fighting to not roll his eyes. But he dashed her silent, raging hopes that he would deny this with his next uttered words.

"Actually," Athrun said calmly, "Yes, that's correct."

"You good-for-nothing," Cagalli snapped, "You're a war hero, aren't you? But here you are, living like a stupid fool of a pighead, damned man that-,"

He sat, impeccable and unaffected, watching her call him all the names in the book she could summon there and then. And when she had finished, or rather, exhausted all the possible names to call him, her face flushed and her body panting with her, he bent forward, delicately refilled her glass, and placed it in front of her.

"Finished, are we?" He said mockingly. "Then that will be it, and we can switch to another topic. Tell me how you have been enjoying yourself."

His calm face and his precise, steady mannerism tore the last of her tolerance from her soul. She stood up, her face dark and her eyes individual orbs of fiery amber, and spat, "I'm going back!"

He looked at her, a surprisingly gentle smile on his face. "Still as feisty as always."

"No," Cagalli said angrily and not untruthfully, "But you bring out the worst in me."

Athrun looked surprised for a minute, and then he smiled, relaxing visibly. Then he stood as well, admiring her as she framed the direction of the wind, her dress blowing and her hair whipping around her face as she seemed to posses the tempest of the unknown worlds then. And he pulled a little bell from the table, and rang.

Cagalli stood up, pushing her chair back with an indignant squeak. She was beginning to regret her rash decision.

The two girls appeared the black scarf still in their hands. Without further ado, they stepped behind her and began tying it. Still stung by her encounter with him, she refused to look at the diminishing of her vision as he stood in front of her, until she knew looking would not change the fact that she could not see his face.

The hands were guiding her again, but just as she moved off, she heard him say, his measured tones sonorous over the evening, "A pity. You took most of your dinner and yet you only obtained so little of information. Hardly an equal exchange, I think." He smiled mildly.

And it was then that Cagalli realized that she had truly suffered a hard bargain. She whipped around in the direction she had been standing in previously, regardless of the fact that it made no difference to her sight. "You tricked me!

"Hardly." He smiled thinly. "You didn't bother pushing the bargain. Patience, Cagalli, is a virtue. You must learn to bide your time."

"I have no reason to take your advice," She hissed in her darkness, "Not for the biding of time anyway."

"I bid mine,' He said calmly."Now, when you want, you can call for me. Don't ever resort to self-inflicted harm. I won't tolerate your actions or offer any information if you attempt your little stunts again. In fact, measures to ensure you do not danger yourself in a new parameter of self-inflicted harm will be put into place." He looked directly at her. "Surveillance sounds suitable even if I personally don't approve of invaded privacy. If need be, steel cuffs are available."

She halted.

"I hate you!" She cried violently, not caring that she was twenty-five and the Supreme Commander of Orb, and that she sounded nothing but childish and spiteful.

He laughed, clearly mocking her. "I'm not sure I can say the same, unfortunately."

She was led away.

This time, she counted the number of steps for each turn. Eight forward, five to the right, then six to the right again, then two to the left and twelve forward, followed by twelve to the left, and then one turn right, and then the door lock was being sounded, the series of complicated whirrs and clicks declaring her admission.

Her blindfold was taken off, and she stood, glowering at the two girls. They quickly dipped their curtseys, and then ran, shutting the door very securely behind them, so that Cagalli was a prisoner again.

She stood, motionless, and then she suddenly screamed and kicked the bed post, spewing all the insults that she could invent with a remarkably and critically form of creative cursing.

When she got tired of it, she pulled off the bracelet, yanked off the earrings, and threw them at the vanity, where they hit the polished wood with a thud. Her reflection increased her frustration, and in a frenzy, she stormed to it. She began pulling off the gown and kicking the folds off until she was dressed in nothing but the muslin chemise. Angrily, she stalked to the intricately-carved armoire, pulled a nightgown out, and dressed herself with a desperation that swallowed the insides of her stomach.

Time was running out. And she had wasted a day.

But what was she really trying to do? She covered her face with her hands, thinking bitter thoughts. If only she had stayed away from the Scandinavian Kingdom. But how was she supposed to know that Athrun Zala, of all bloody people, would have been here? And how was she supposed to deduce, through clairvoyant means, that she would end up as nothing but a prisoner in a room like this one, for Athrun, or Rune Estragon to control where she went and what she knew?

And yet, there was no other choice but to look at the situation squarely in the face. She was a prisoner here, a well-fed, cared-for prisoner, but a prisoner nonetheless, and Cagalli was not aware of what was happening in the month that she had been missing from Orb.

It did not take a rocket-scientist, however, to guess the turmoil that lay beyond the Isle.

If the last member of the Orb royals had gone to Scandinavia, then world attention would have been on that region. And if that member had been asked there, possibly, to aid Sweden in driving out the Denmark terrorists with Orb's military might, then all the more, the attention would have been given. The fact that terrorists were still running free did not help. But if that member had disappeared from the Royal host's yacht one night, whether or not it was proven that terrorists had taken her, then the world's attention would surely zoom in even closer onto Scandinavia. They were ultimately responsible for her if she was in their region. Orb needed her- and she was missing.

Surely, the accusations would be rife. She had to escape from here and return to Orb to clarify and soothe the tension over.

If she did not find out what was ongoing at the very least, other than planning an escape, there was bound to be even greater trouble. But first, in order to learn of the outside world, she first had to understand the one she was trapped in at this point.

Athrun had offered her something to that nature, and she had basically made a terrible mess of the opportunity.

She cursed, rubbing her face in her hands.

But something still bothered her. Had Cagalli been sure that he would have made the bargain? No. She had only dared hoped that he would arrive so she could ask him for the information that she wanted urgently. Athrun, however, had been willing to give more than what she had been planning to wager for, taking nothing but the promise that she would lift herself from the depth she had sank to. Why?

She suddenly thought about the frustration welling in his face as he flipped her on her back and surveyed what she had caused to herself. Perhaps he cared more than she would have liked to admit.

"No," Cagalli said abruptly, "He just doesn't want more trouble on his hands. If I die here, they will kill him for it."

All the same,-

A blush began to scatter on her cheeks. But she left the train of thoughts and stared determinedly at the notepads she had brought from the tableside. The first thing she had written down, was the series of steps from the dining balcony that no one but them had used, apparently, all the way to this room. When she had finished, she slipped it in a peach-colored gown in the wardrobe, near the fold of the bust.

And Cagalli sat, for a long time, thinking hard and thinking very deeply. Then she picked up the bone-china fountain pen and began to write. There were priorities that needed to be arranged in due order.

The first was to understand the basics about the place. There was nothing like knowing the enemy's stronghold inside out to escape.

The second was to find out the on-goings of Orb, Sweden, and Plant, now that it was certain that she was missing or in which case possible, had been kidnapped.

The third was to return to Orb in the quickest time possible.

The first would be difficult, but relatively simple compared to the others. She chewed her lip, considering the most effective ways to wheedle information from those she would come into contact with. For now, Cagalli would attempt to get closer to Miles, June, and the two maids, assuming that she ever saw them again.

They would accept her apology for being so irrational and eventually, eventually, she prayed, they would grow comfortable enough for her to take information from them on the sly and without their conscious realization. But something tugged at her mind- they were too careful. Clearly, they had been warned by Athrun, and they were too wary of her to respond to her questions in the way she wanted and needed them to.

Besides, growing close to them would take a considerable amount of effort, she thought ruefully, considering the bruise she had left as a souvenir for Miles.

On the other hand, she could go straight to the gift horse's mouth.

Therein lay several obstacles. She could not threaten Athrun with power, not when she was in his stronghold. But even if he had changed in a distinctively sinister way, Cagalli had nerves of steel and sheer determination to counter his advantage over her. And if he could show concern or at least, a manifested form of concern in case she killed herself while she was still the Princess of Orb in the hands of her captors, then she had a key she could use.

But the thought of stooping as low as to threaten to kill herself made her squirm.

'I've been trying to forget him,' Cagalli argued angrily in her mind, 'And now this. What about the eight years of trying?'

But she made her decision in the end. Or rather, she chose the only possible route.

The second goal was immensely difficult by itself. How could she worm out information about what was happening beyond The Isle?

"Hopefully," Cagalli prayed, "He needs me alive and intact."

It did not occur to her to strike another bargain many captives often made with their captors. On the condition that they were set free, the captives would bring back the ransom money and swear to never divulge in the identity of their captors. There were two problems in this scenario- Cagalli instinctively trusted Athrun Zala to an extent she was not ready to admit or even conscious of recognizing, and the other problem, was that he had not quite asked for anything equivalent or close to a ransom.

For that matter, what did Athrun Zala really want of her?

She tried to puzzle it out, but ended up bothered and irritable. To distract herself, she pulled the nightgown off her head because it was beginning to border on a sweltering temperature in the room, and curled up near the cool iron-wrought bars of her bed.

And unknowingly, she began to fantasize about someone leaving the door unlocked so she could sneak out and find a way to escape. She wouldn't have minded swimming as long as she could get away. Or perhaps Athrun would invite her to dinner again, and she would miraculously find something to drug him with so she could escape from there. The possibilities were endless, but the probabilities woefully limited.

Sighing, Cagalli flopped on the bed, her figure lush and tender in the muslin and her legs sprawled in a comely and unconscious manner. She held the paper above her head and stared at it. First things first, she vowed, I'll have to make Athrun tell me the things I need to understand.

A sound distracted her, and startled, she sat up very abruptly and resultantly hit her head on the bed-pole. Damn her tendency to suffer accident.

In an instant, the security locks were simultaneously cleared and she only had time to stuff the papers towards the side, where they went under the bed.

The hinges made slight sounds of discontent as the hinge swung on those and then admitted a person through before locking itself securely again.

She gaped in a developed state of shock, and instinctively pulled the covers over herself for modesty's sake, her face reflecting outrage and fear. But Athrun did not even bat an eye.

"It's been an hour," He said eventually.

She scoffed. "So you have a clock too."

He registered a slight smile. "Have you calmed down enough to ensure a civilized façade at very least?"

Cagalli glared, and then attempted to hide it. Her priorities were to make him feel as if she had given up hope on leaving, and she would have to gain his trust first. Her efforts went noticed, apparently, for he smiled at her questioningly, challenging her.

"I thought we might talk, never mind that we just had a little ah-," He paused, his voice droll with dry wit and chief amusement at her unease, "Dispute."

That was about as accurate as it could be- if disputes considered of the highly-irresistible urge to strangle him with her bare hands. She grimaced in the direction of the chair fitted under the handsome vanity.

"You could either talk with the manners you were brought up with in a far more cultured manner than in the style you displayed an hour ago," Athrun said comfortably, hauling the chair next to her again and settling into it with a fluid ease. "Unless you would rather spend the rest of the night sulking."

"You've got absolutely no damn right to mention the word culture," Cagalli gritted back, "When you could go as far as to bring me here and threaten me with cuffs. I'm not a beast you've bought for your amusement."

He smiled courteously and ambivalently, and something lurked in his eyes. A warning signal, perhaps. But she knew what he was thinking- that in all respects, he had made her his beast and she was playing into his hands by behaving like one.

But suddenly, a crucial thought occurred, making the image of the rustling papers under the bed that she had crushed in a hurry reappear in her mind.

"Talk," She said hastily. She awkwardly arranged the blanket around her shoulders to fit her better, and Athrun registered no embarrassment, unfortunately adding a new dimension of self-consciousness on top of her current emotions.

"It's not as if I haven't seen a woman before," He said calmly, leaning back and regarding her with some scorn in his eyes. She colored badly and snapped, "I thought you were a gentleman or pretending to be like one at bare minimum!"

He grinned suddenly, and Cagalli was horrified to find herself wondering if she had ever forgotten his smile when he was entirely relaxed, that clipped and politely curt demeanor removed from him for a short while at least.

"I suppose I should stand and look fascinatingly at a corner while you regain some decency."

"Yes," Cagalli said awkwardly, "Please."

"Right," He said automatically, standing up and moving to a corner, doing as good as his word and not reverting his eyes from where he was. "I supposed it's mostly my fault for not knocking."

"Kidnappers usually don't bother with that much courtesy," Cagalli scoffed, removing the blanket and then pulling the nightgown over her head again.

He laughed a dry laugh from where he was, and when she confirmed that she was ready, he turned around and strode back to his seat. "I suppose that's what it is now," He muttered regretfully, "Although it wasn't intended."

"What do you mean?" Cagalli said sharply, "I'm here in this locked room, aren't I?"

He shook his head morosely. "I was supposed to convince you to follow me, but not without signing an agreement that I would have left behind on that ship. An agreement that said you did this entirely out of your will and would be back in a certain degree of time."

"For how long?" She asked, bewildered.

"For as long as I had estimated as being both necessary and adequate. But you had your adventure, I suppose," He gestured to her collarbone where thankfully, nothing but a faint line remained, "And I couldn't leave you there."

"Why not?" She said, puzzled.

Athrun's face registered nothing but a cold rational process that was ongoing in his head. "First, they would accuse me of attacking you with a gun when it had really been the opposite. Secondly, you would have been in grave danger if I had not taken you along with me. Third, I wanted to bring you back anyhow, so the means did not really matter, although I was counting on diplomatic persuasion to bring you here. Rest assured that you would still be required to stay here, however, had you agreed to come along on your own free will."

She gaped, and then stammered an apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. But-," Cagalli looked up at him, doubt still etched in her face, "It was your fault anyway."

"Whatever you say," Athrun admitted readily, "But you will still follow my plans. You're in a foreign place where the best form of safety I can ensure for you is by following what I have arranged."

She snorted. "Yeah, safe. But not from boredom."

"And apparently not from self-inflicted harm," He said quietly. But she did not hear him.

"Athrun," Cagalli said carefully, but with just the hint of a plea in her voice, "Please don't withhold things from me anymore. I must learn more about this place, or I will spend sleepless nights fretting about the unknown that plagues me. Please."

His face hardened, and she was frightened that she had pushed too far too fast. But his shoulders relaxed gradually, and he surveyed her with his green eyes, searching her face for something she hoped she would not show that convinced him to deny her request.

"I would have told you gradually anyway," Athrun said simply, "But in my own time. I promise you however, that all will be understood eventually. But you must be patient."

She bit back her cry that she could hardly afford to be patient when so much was being kept from her, and nodded desperately instead.

"Good," Athrun said, clearly satisfied with her effort at obedience, "Now we will talk of whatever you want us to except that which I cannot reveal at this moment."

"How long must I be here?" Cagalli asked, clearly devastated and quietly shattered.

He nodded, as if to confirm that she had a right to know. "Half a year. I promise you that you'll not stay a shorter duration or a longer one. It will all end in half a year."

She closed her eyes, feeling the prickling of tears and the growing fear in her body, but her pride was too strong for her to buckle under the situation. Besides, this only confirmed that she needed to plan to leave this place as soon as possible. "I understand."

"Thank you," Athrun said gently. "I'll try to provide you everything you need."

"Athrun," said she softly, "Did you ever harbor a grudge against me?"

He leaned back, breathing heavily. "M y current actions have nothing to do with our past. But the answer to your question is obvious."

Her heart sank, but she had expected this at the very least.

"However," He continued morosely, "there are things that we must first work for."

"Work for?"

"Precisely. Sacrifices have to be made."

He refused to say anymore than his cryptic words, and eventually, she gave up and switched the line of conversation.

"Tell me," She said curiously, "What's life here like on the Isle?"

His face lightened, and she was entranced by how peaceful he looked. It was unexpected, and she wondered if this was a pretense. "On a normal day, the inhabitants live in their traditional ways, planting and growing their crops and feeding their families. The surplus is secretly shipped off to separate islands with other islands' titles inscribed on them, and we have informants from the other islands that arrange this. So a little more income is supplied to the native inhabitants here. The Isle is relatively large, but it functions well enough with schools and a hospital."

"The one I am in now." She said uncomfortably.

"No," Athrun said, but not without a hint of cunning, "You're in my house."

The effect was immediate and as extreme as the situation called for.

She shot up, stiffening. "So my guess was correct!"

"This is a spare room," He said lightly, adjusting the things on the mantel here and there, which irritated her because he was putting the things straight again, and he was avoiding her eye, which she was mostly guilty of, but now angered that he was giving her the same treatment. "And Miles Summon and June Requiem are part of my staff."

"Lord," Cagalli breathed, "Why didn't you say so?"

"You didn't ask," He pointed out with the same courtesy as before, "And I didn't bothered clarifying, of course. But it doesn't matter, does it?"

She had to agree. It did not quite matter, the place she was in now, whether a hospital or his home, was ultimately still a stronghold of his. No wonder he had such power over the two and the maids- he was their master from the start, not merely a customer they were obliged to be obedient to.

Being in his service, Cagalli suddenly suspected, meant more than obedience and the daily dusting. Miles had sharp eyes and the hands of not a doctor, deftly shaped but rough and unpolished. Was he trained with a gun? And June Requiem looked young, but her memory was incredible- she could recited the number of books in order of titles that Cagalli had read backwards and forwards, in spite of their sheer number. These two girls were young and overtly silent but somewhat menacing in their own ways, with their almost inaudible pattering in the room and the deftness in which they did their work. The elder had hands that could lift a wardrobe quite easily, and the younger one pared apples with deft slashes.

Cagalli shivered.

"What does your house look like?" She asked interestedly. Inside, she half-expected him to refuse to answer. But he smiled and responded, "I could let you find out for yourself."

Her heart skipped a few beats, and she nodded eagerly, not caring if he was playing mind games with her or calling her bluff. Knowledge was the key to understanding, and then routing her escape. But truthfully, she was curious as well. What would Athrun's house look like?

Unconsciously, her eyes fell on the bedside table and the vanity. Those were exquisite and judging by his consistency of character up until recently where nothing seemed the same anymore, his house would be beautifully furnished with the highest quality of lamp stands to armchairs.

"Tomorrow, perhaps?" Cagalli said innocently, looking at him carefully, "Will you show me around?"

He shook his head with a tinge of regret. "I'm afraid not. The twins will if I instruct them too. I suppose it's time you got to explore the East Wing."

"So there are four?" She guessed, tilting her head and thinking of corridors of winding paths and rooms that were similar to this one.

He smiled knowingly and shook his head. "It will not harm me to tell you that there are only two. The East Wing and West Wing. And the West one is solely my quarters, whereby it is divided into the Regent West Wing and the Main West Wing."

"Divided?" Cagalli said in astonishment, "What for?"

He smiled a soft, slightly strange smile that made the blood rise in her body. "One for business and the other- for pleasure."

She looked away quickly, afraid to stare into his face as he was doing at that instant. "And what do you do for business?"

"I deal with the shares the companies I hold control," Athrun said evenly, "It's a lucrative business and rather extensive. Perhaps tomorrow, I will introduce my assistant to you. You might enjoy his company, since he has remarkable tolerance for questions and that sort of thing you are so characteristic of. Naturally so, in my opinion, because his children are only toddlers at this stage."

"How old is he?" Cagalli said questioningly, ignoring Athrun's barb with some effort "And is he a native?"

Athrun laughed. "He's young enough, but not too young to know that he oughtn't to meddle with what I do. He's twenty-one this year, but very talented and more crucially, knows how to keep his mouth shut. A good man in all honesty. He is, as you say, a native, but an immigrant of sorts as well."

His last words made puzzlement rise in Cagalli. How could one be both an immigrant and a native? Strange. Perhaps she had misunderstood Athrun somewhere.

"So this is the East Wing," She confirmed at last, looking at the room again even though she knew each nook and cranny well enough to reconstruct it blindfolded with the scarf the twins provided. "And a former guest room."

"Correct," Athrun said plainly, without an overt expression of any sort. This, she was coming to realize, was his default status where he did not want her to read into his thoughts. "This is part of it."

"Is it divided as well?" Cagalli questioned uneasily.

He smiled languidly. "Do you want it to be?"

She recalled his explanation about the West Wing's apparent division, his voice being reproduced in her blood, and felt feverish in an instant. Furiously, she berated herself for the unknown feelings and the trickling of suppressed emotions that were darting in her veins, and focused her eyes at him, forcing herself to be steady.

"If that's all, you should rest now." Athrun said quietly, standing up so he towered over her, "Good night."

He bent in a slight bow, acknowledging her, and suddenly, as if something had possessed her, she slipped from the bed, unconsciously pulling the end of the blanket with her so it slid lazily to the floor, but there was no embarrassment in her as she slipped into his arms, tiptoeing as a child would, to embrace him. His arms froze, but slowly and so gently, slid around her waist, pulling her closer.

When she let go, his face was half-impassive, something she realized with a pang, was still the same effort to remain unread, and yet, the other was half clearly shaken. No triumph came to her that she had broken through his shell, but there was a strange reassurance in her body and the warmth that had flooded through from her thin nightgown into his body. She had meant it as a test of his possible reactions to her, or so she now tried to rationalize, but it had been a zugzwang on her part, intermingled with unconscious, secret desires and the tendrils of memories that had been put away for too long.

He stared at her.

They might have spoken, talked about the past maybe, or the mistakes they had made, the terrible flaws in their judgment that had cost them that glowing, one chance of happiness together. But they did not. Too much had changed since then- it wasn't being out of the loop, it was being in a separate, entirely foreign one altogether.

"Goodnight" She said softly, and slipped under the covers.

He moved languidly to the door, and just before he produced the key that hung around his neck under his shirt, he turned around to take one final glance at her, his eyes traveling over her face to the soft lines of her body that had contrasted but complimented the harder lines of his so well. One hand was by the switch, and the lights faded, the door clicking to announce his departure.

And Cagalli sank into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_5 months. 22 days _


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**

Chapter 4

* * *

Cagalli cursed silently- then thought the better of it and did it aloud.

"There's nobody to hear me anyway." She said plainly, crumpling a fistful of the sheets she was sitting on.

But there was nothing to curse about if you wanted to be objective. Rune Estragon was certainly no under-privileged man. If anything, he was over privileged and he was generous to his prisoners, prisoners like her. Even if the week passed by with no hint of his returning, she had been a bored but nevertheless well-looked after captive in this room. She had been like this, in his house, on The Isle,

for nearly a month now.

There was no sign of anything changing, and a dulled acceptance had become part of her being, although there was a fluttering of her heart each time she thought of something beyond the seas and impenetrable barriers of the room.

"Athrun," She said absently. "Bloody hell."

He had sent in things for her perusal, in place of his presence, and she eagerly opened the parcels, hoping for something without knowing what. First, she received books, and then the next parcels opened to reveal glittering things in their depths. He sent her measurements over to an entire council of outfitters and she was supplied with everything from hairbrushes and undergarments to lavish dresses. She was expected to wear those, and it was at this point that Cagalli suspected that he did not know how else to please her.

For both their sake, she accepted them with a quiet dignity.

The baubles were of a different case, in fact-, they were hardly mere baubles. The pearls were of varying lengths and sizes but all moony with white radiance and gleaming on her skin. There were emerald brooches she was immediately attracted to with their honey and forest hues, but did not dare try on until he requested that she did. Cagalli, however, did not use any of these if she could afford not to, knowing that it was not what she needed.

But then, she did not know she needed exactly.

Overall, Athrun's desire that she accept those was an obvious and undeniable one. She simply could not refuse him when his word was the law in his house. More accurately, she could not escape the prying hands of the maids as they outfitted her when dusk came.

And so, there were a few more occasions that Cagalli had dinner together with Athrun, during which, the twins looped rainbow-hewed gems onto her earlobes and around her neck and wrists or hair. The black scarf was a final touch to everything- around her eyes.

Each time, she revised the key steps over and over again while passing along the blindfolded route of the acres of the balcony to the room she would eventually have to return to. The consistency of her counting in the number of times she had done this sealed her trust in the belief that there was only one way to travel from her room to the balcony.

Throughout this time, Cagalli found Athrun to be distant, polite, and removed from her. Dinner would always originate from a note under her door, and at the stated time, the twins would arrive for her, but not before she was bade to follow his instructions, if he had specified any.

Today, he had left a note in a slanting, elegant script she recognized to be his handwriting.

'_Dinner at seven. Wear the peach silk.'_

What difference did it make, she thought curiously, even if she turned up in a rag?

Nevertheless, she allowed herself to be attended to, her hair still warm and curling from her bath, and her skin smelling faintly of rose soap. Her figure was full and luscious in the straining of the silk across her white-peach flesh, creamy from not seeing the sun, and her wrists were baptized with a drop of lavender water each. The twins matched pink tourmalines on her, and she seemed to glow with a strange radiance as the evening beckoned her to it.

Athrun was more distant than ever. No-doubt, his manner was polite and he was as cordial as ever, standing and helping her to her seat before resuming his own. He presented her with some delicate blooms that she politely put behind her with as much anticipation in receiving them as that he had presented those to her with.

There was a slight effort to hold a conversation and a slight effort to maintain it, but the words were vacuous, and the sentences disconnected and she had not a single insight into his thoughts or his heart.

"Athrun," She said slowly, "Is anything the matter?"

He looked at her with a slight smile. "None whatsoever. Why the need to clarify?"

"Nothing," mumbled she, "But you looked a little distracted and-,"

"You look beautiful," He interposed. "This becomes you."

She looked up, confused by the sudden leap of conversation if there had been any to begin with in the first place, and saw that his eyes were no longer the cool, calm mist of emerald, but warm and distinctively genuine. For the first time that day, she smiled.

"Thank you."

They had their meal in silence, but it was not an awkward one. These things confused her more than ever. Was he Rune Estragon or Athrun? Or perhaps, was he a cumulating of personalities, the cunningness and intelligence really a single trait and the distant smile and the cunning one merely the same, only that he had not bothered pronouncing the first one at times?

She lay in bed and thought about Athrun Zala.

"_Why don't you take my hand?" He had asked once, when she had stood at the stairs of a ballroom, awkward and not willing to go. The crimson gown she had been wearing was beautiful, but she was not comfortable in it. She looked at him, afraid to take it, wanting to take it, not knowing if she ought to take it when he was Alex Dino. But his hand was stretched out to her, and she looked at him as he smiled._

_She hesitated, about to say something, but the words failed her and slowly, she gave him her hand.  
_

He had drawn her to him with his serious, but somehow wry character, the way he cared so deeply for those around him without appearing emotionally connected to anything, and how he always seemed to be frowning slightly but how wretchedly attractive he was, and more so when he smiled. She had cared for him more than she would ever say, and they had hurt each other so.

Either way, she was trapped. She could not tell him or herself, how much she regretted having him go away from Orb when he had sought her. That would have been exposing the lie she had lived. And yet, she could not stay sane like this- with a man who was supposedly dead, a mere ghost or lesser than that, of the past she had given up.

Every evening, she dined with the ghosts and the memories that not being content with the time, haunted her dreams at night. Was there an escape? No.

Not if she stayed here on The Isle where he would always find her.

The grief flooding through her, in the solitude and confinement of her gilded cage, was mostly unbearable.

* * *

Sometimes, Cagalli stole glances around the balcony.

Beyond them were hedges that blocked most of everything except the sky from her sight, and Athrun seemed to have taken this into consideration already.

"Were you searching for anything?" He asked knowingly, as she pretended to focus her eyes back to where the table was.

"No," She said hurriedly, as a cool spring-evening wind blew across her cheeks. "Just that it's been a month and a week here, and I thought I'd like to see what the place was like."

He smiled, pouring a fragrant wine into her glass. "Curiosity was always representative of you."

She blushed but justified this. "Naturally, if you were kept here."

He considered what she had said, and his eyes focused on hers. "That is ultimately true. I'm afraid this has been an ordeal for you."

Eagerly, she nodded. "I want to understand my surroundings."

"Simple enough," Athrun conceded, "But of course, certain things must remain unseen."

Overjoyed, her eyes shone and her lips uplifted in a smile that made him take her entire being into consideration. She was perfect every time he saw her, partially because he had requested for it, the same golden hair and eyes he had left behind and had with him now. But sometimes, Athrun was well-aware that he wanted her to appear as thus because he could not bear to be reminded that she was a captive by his own hands.

Each time she dined with him, it merely looked as though it was a simple meal and nothing more, because of the dresses she wore and the attention given to the etiquette of the evening. It hardly looked as though she spent most of her hours as a captive in where he had placed her.

He wanted to forget that at the very least.

This evening, she wore a cream colored dress and a string of pink pearls around her neck. Her hair had been trimmed recently and it appeared just above her shoulders in a fine mist of gold, and he was tempted to reach out and run his fingers through it.

When she moved to the edge of the balcony, he watched, from his chair, as she spread her arms out longingly, holding the sunset in her soft arms, the wind tousling her hair, and the gems shining at her earlobes, her lashes fine and golden against her cheek as she inhaled the fresh air gleefully. She showed a certain wistfulness that, he guessed, was the same of anyone who did not have the freedom they wanted.

There was irony in this of course- she had been freed from her office, taken out of her role of the people's leader and servant, and removed of any duties she might have had to bear on her young shoulders.

"What do you love about Orb?" He asked her one evening.

Her eyes closed and then opened slowly as she tested his question, chewing her lip in that maddening way. He despised the way her lips were so delicately pink and furled as she bit it- he abhorred the way the unconscious mannerism could make his mind wander without his knowledge.

"Everything?" She said hesitantly in response.

He looked at her, and she blushed.

"One day," He said very softly, "I will ask you the same question again. And your answer will be different for your own sake."

* * *

At times, Athrun found himself wondering how they struggled against the tide, pushing and pedaling furiously against the current even as they were swept to their pasts. The ghosts would haunt him each and every night- he had grown accustomed to this, until mere recollection was all that remained of the memory he had of him holding a suitcase and leaving Orb.

He would stir in his sleep, grasping onto something and finding solace, even if temporary, in the arms of another warm body nestled against his. It wasn't her, it was another, but this was good enough.

The present mattered more.

In his spare moments, he was tempted to imagine what Cagalli was doing in her room, writing and reading, stubbornly coming up with proposals that were surely overdue and creating solutions for issues in Orb that had probably been already solved while she was here on The Isle. Or perhaps, she was doing none of this at all, but merely sulking.

The more one tried not to think of her, the more one thought of her.

It irritated him, silently, secretly, but it wasn't his nature to deny it. He would leave the forms of denial to her.

Now, he sat straight in his hard-backed chair, looking through letters and confirmations. These were all of the same nature, and he would answer them later.

The man standing next to him looked at him and asked curiously, "How's the Princess?"

"As feisty as every," Athrun answered evenly, "And free-spirited. The other day, she tried to commit suicide."

His friend laughed. "Quite a tempest of a woman. Lovely, yes, but troublesome."

"It is her nature."

"Surely you aren't getting too attached to her, are you?" His friend said teasingly. But his eyes grew serious.

"It'd be too dangerous. That was why they tried to bring her to The Isle without your knowledge. But you did it yourself in the end, and they still don't trust us for it because you defied their orders."

Athrun merely resumed reading after he met the man's view fully in the face. The answer was unknown to both men, even up till the point when the assistant, Epstein, knocked on the door and requested for his audience.

Time was running out. If a certain set of desired outcomes did not come from that single gamble Athrun had taken that night, she would be as good as gone.

So his thoughts were on Cagalli as Athrun marched past the halls, slow, unhurried thoughts, pervading and insistent.

Cagalli was made many things, innocence and the fragments of a broken past, like so many of those who were born from the war. She was beautiful, headstrong, stubborn and intelligent, and he had loved her, perhaps, from the first time he had seen her. Certainly, he hadn't known her very well, but she was easy to read, like a book, rash in her inner insecurities and intoxicating in a mixture of child and woman.

And Athrun was aware of how dangerous and delectable she inherently was with her knowledge of the world, but the lacking understanding of what the world asked of her. Because of her, his nights were endured with fantasies of her golden hair and golden eyes pooling like molten honey and the awakening dawn. Sometimes, he imagined her soft arms around his neck and shoulders the way they'd kissed before he left for Plant- thrown everything away like that with her blessing, blast the irony in that. Even here on The Isle, in his manor, where his whim was a reality and his word a law by itself, Cagalli was not subject to his extent of possession. She was trapped here, was she not?

But she was simply not his to have.

* * *

When one particular morning came, Cagalli cracked open her eyes. Usually, a clock rang at a certain time- today, she was slightly early.

Blearily, she peered at the corner, where the usual mahogany wardrobe, vanity, table and two chairs stood solidly, greeting her. Of course, the flowers had shed a few pink petals, charming the carpets with pieces of soft silk here and there, and the usual furniture grinned at her as they saluted in their usual positions, along with the twins and-

"Wait!"

She tried to stand out of bed, got badly tangled with the blanket, and tumbled rather ungracefully to the ground, although the resulting thump to her back was still not severe because of the carpet's plumed and maroon textures.

The twins curtseyed in unison, without batting an eyelid.

And Cagalli got up, muttering to herself in a creaky morning voice. "Why are you two here? It scares the hell out of people to wake up and find two people who weren't there the night before staring right at them?"

They looked at each other; their strangely luminous opal-colored hair long but neatly- looped and their funny blue eyes making them look like fairies. Other than that, they were decked in maid uniforms, their aprons white and spick-span, so only a close examination revealed what atypical features they had. They weren't ugly, quite the opposite, but they did not look as if they were quite normal. Yet, their expression was secretive and their smiles very slight. So they were having a private joke then, Cagalli realized.

"It's a little too late for an introduction," She said apologetically, "But can you both tell me your names?"

They looked at each other again, communicating silently with their eyes, and Cagalli waited, curiously staring at each. Were the twins really possessive of telepathy? But it was probably not consistent or it was just a pronounced case of a good understanding of one another's character- Kira and she had never shown abilities of twin-telepathy. Or perhaps, she reflected ruefully, they had been separated for so long that telepathy was rather far-fetched in their case.

Then one spoke and Cagalli found that she was quite amazed to hear a voice. It was like listening for the rain but being rewarded with the roar of the ocean. The voice was hesitant and raspy, like someone was rubbing sandpaper against a blackboard, not quite flinch-inducing, but girlish nevertheless. Perhaps this was the cause of the reluctance to verbalize normally.

"Please, I'm the older twin," the first child said cautiously, a shy half-smile coming into her previously emotionless eyes, "I'm Cartesia Daemon. She's Laplacia Daemon."

Cagalli raised her eyebrows. Clearly, these were false names as well. But why such obvious aliases? There could be only one conclusion to arrive at. It would not matter that Cagalli recognized that their names were false ones, as long as she did not know their real names.

The second one bobbed a perfunctory curtsey. "Please, we will attend to you and ensure you are properly attired for breakfast."

She looked trustingly, like a small child, at Cagalli. Their height was the same, now that Cagalli was seated, and lovingly, she placed a delicate, white hand, a lily of a limb, into Cagalli's as they shook hands.

Cagalli smiled wanly, unsure of how to react. She had considered being as biting as possible, take out a little of her anger on Athrun's charges, but it was beyond her.

"Hello." She said cautiously. "As for breakfast, I doubt anybody will care that I'm tucking in while wearing my pajamas. Why don't we all sit down and get to know each other instead?"

They looked startled. Had nobody bothered ever speaking to them before? Or had her request been extraordinary?

"If it pleases your Excellence," Cartesia said hurriedly, "You must be properly attired. Mr. Estragon has given the instructions."

"Alright," Cagalli said with a sigh, "And he's like King here in his own house. As expected of course."

If the twins heard her comments, they showed no reaction. They performed the same routine- waited for her to wash up, then outfitted her and began to brush her hair. For today, she was given a simple white blouse, fastened with a soft black leather belt that circled her waist over a deep maroon skirt. It was far less elaborate than anything in the wardrobe, but then, Cagalli had no choice but to follow the instructions in any given case. Here, everything was dictated from the time she woke up, to the time she lost herself in fitful sleep.

But today, she was curious about more things than ever before- and called for Laplacia, who had been standing in front of the wardrobe, looking like a doll of sorts that was only waiting to spring into action upon command. And this was not an inaccurate description- at the call of her name, the young girl came pattering, like a grey-lavender kitten, silent and docile, as if expecting to be kicked or scolded.

"Why don't you tell me more about yourself?" Cagalli suggested. "You can start by telling me how old you are and what you do around here."

Her words were eagerly caught by Laplacia, although her shining eyes were the only things that registered acknowledgement of what Cagalli had asked. Discernably, Laplacia was processing every word and thinking of the censure that had probably been required. Cagalli bit back a sigh. When would this end?

"I am thirteen this year," Laplacia said astutely, although Cagalli sensed the absence of a reason to lie and the fact that the girl had not, "And I am a maid in the Master's household."

"I deduced that," Cagalli said thoughtfully, "But you both are so young- surely you should be going to school?"

In a flash, Cartesia had put down the brush. "You are ready, Ms. Atha. The master has instructed you to be shown around and made familiar with the East Wing. You may explore as you wish, but the master has ordered that you stay far from the West Wing today."

"So I suppose the blindfold makes its appearance again." Cagalli said bitingly.

The twins exchanged glances that bordered on a fearful appreciation of her wit and surprise that extended into something like empathy.

"I thought so," Cagalli said blandly.

They shook their heads anxiously.

"No," Cartesia said calmingly, "There is more than one way to enter each wing from each part of the house."

It was true then. Every palace had its dungeons, and in each dungeon, passageways, either brightly-lighted or dim from minimal use, led to somewhere.

Cagalli nodded in acknowledgement, storing the important piece of information with here. Whether or not it would have been useful did not matter anymore- now, everything would be retained or written down sooner or later, kept in secret, for her to use in the case of an emergency. If there were presumably two ways or more to get from one wing to another in the house, then allowing her to see and learn the pathways to the East Wing probably revealed a route that would not risk anything in the plans Athrun was keeping so carefully as a secret.

But that also meant-

The necessary nature of the black scarf around her eyes the night before would surely mean that there was only one way to get to the balcony, therefore it being the imperative that she did _not _learn how to travel there. And from what she had observed, the balcony would be the apex of Athrun's stronghold. Beyond the hearse of hedges, there was surely something that revealed the location of his Manor on The Isle. But what?

The pieces were not quite coming together yet. Or was she fitting them in blind corners to begin with?

Slowly, she stood, and waited impatiently while the maids keyed in the complex combinations of numerals and dates over and over again, and held up their palms to a corner of the door that appeared normal. The lock clicked regretfully and the door swung open silently.

The wall that lay in front of her eyes was part of a long, winding corridor. She would have to reverse the sequence and directions of the number of steps she had taken before that when she had visited the balcony overlooking the ocean and the glorious sunset. But not today, apparently.

They turned a corner and a few others, Cagalli barely having enough time to observe Athrun's tastes even in a mere corridor. There were canvases hanging in gold and enamel frames, ochre and sepia from age but their colors gleaming mysteriously, and the carpets were horizons of tapestries, rich and ornamental but beautifully textured and woven.

Corner after corner. And then a winding staircase appeared in front of them.

"We will find you when you are ready to return," the girls said in unison.

She nodded, feeling remarkably apprehensive, and gingerly picked up her skirts and treaded on each step. When she looked down for confirmation, there was nobody in the corridor, and she had no choice but to continue.

And presently, Cagalli exited into another corridor, and slightly irritably, she marched her way down, cursing Athrun's maddening habitat and his insistence that she be kept out of the loop.

She paused abruptly- staring.

A small table, set for only one person, lay in front, a steaming breakfast waiting with fresh flowers and a plump teapot smoking slightly.

Confusedly, Cagalli sat down, and shook her head once, and then she ate quickly and ravenously.

* * *

The hours passed quickly, in spite of the lack of a watch to keep track of the time.

Cagalli found room after room, corridor after corridor, which opened comfortably and welcomingly enough. There was nobody anywhere- a ghost town of sorts. Still, she took note of each room's style and their placement along the corridors, walking up and down until she had familiarized herself completely. Some rooms were locked, however, and those, she yearned to open more than ever.

She wandered along, feeling as if a hundred people were hiding behind pillars and corners and under tables, ordered to be breathlessly silent until she passed. No doubt, this very wing would have comfortably held about that number for a ball or two.

Out of the nine rooms along the first corridor, Cagalli found two locked, but found two perfectly extensive drawing rooms, one done up in a regal navy color, and another in an apple white.

There was a single empty room that resembled the original state of her room, three other rooms that resembled dining halls with their long, oblong tables and fine silver candlesticks, and another three that looked like the office meeting rooms for her Cabinet. She made a note in her head- if money was essential to escape, the candlesticks would more than suffice. They would serve well as weapons too, swung this and that way. Her hands, although tiny, were quite strong.

She pattered through a wood frame, the door already opened to her.

The rooms were airy, in spite of the lack of opened windows. What was it about this damned place that lay shrouded in so much thick intrigue, so thick that one could cut the palpable air with a sharp knife?

And did Athrun even come here to do business in these meeting rooms, dine in the light of the golden candles with their silver stands, and call for servants to open the windows when it grew unbearably stifling in these massive halls?

The image of him sitting back, entire relaxed, replying languidly that he was prepared to live his life without working made her feel suddenly bad-tempered. She stomped like a troll, although she looked nothing like one.

Presently, she found herself in the second corridor, which had one beautiful room that was filled with all sorts of paintings and bric-a-brac that she spent more than a justifiable amount of time in. It was here that Cagalli began fulfilling her curiosity by pottering about in the slightly dusty but well-maintained art pieces. The rest of the rooms were vaguely similar in the meticulous planning of the things in it, but most were locked again.

One door was flung open to reveal more than three dozen shelves of books and records- and she fetched the ladder and spent a few blissful hours curling up to read in a cheerfully lethargic condition of sorts. Then it struck her that Athrun would have possessed certain books that would in turn, reveal something about the area, and so she frantically combed the place, looking for books on the site and location of The Isle.

Again, nothing.

Her excitement in the notion of finding information to unlock the elusiveness of the very place she was in had been fuelled by naïve hope. Soon, Cagalli had given up hope of ever finding a clue there. Besides, Athrun would have been more than a little cautious, especially if he had gone to such extents and pains to ensure that information was being withheld at this stage.

And yet, she lost her slight paranoia of the area with the mental justification that Athrun had given her as much freedom as possible in at least half the house, and feeling slightly less bitter, Cagalli sat in the rooms, trying to pry open the windows to no avail, since one needed keys to open them fully. And finally giving up, moved into the next nearest room.

The last one near the corridor was a dead end. But Cagalli held her head high, and pushed it open.

It creaked grumpily and she took one step in, half-expecting to see the same heavy curtains and grand mantel pieces with a table or two or some kind of furniture at least.

She shrieked.

Athrun Zala smiled placidly at her, where he was standing in front of the door that had just closed. "I heard you were adamant about being left alone."

"You!" Cagalli choked, "Where did you come out from?"

Furiously, she massaged her neck, "Don't scare me like that!"

He shrugged. "I was helping you open the door from the other side. You could thank me."

"Thank you!" She snapped.

Athrun surveyed her apathetically. "Did you do anything wrong? Break a vase or two in the storage room, by any chance? Fret not, I'll think of a lenient enough punishment."

Her eyes were golden saucers in sheer anger. "I did nothing of that sort."

"And there you were creeping around like a thief," He said drolly, "I would have thought otherwise."

She was about to retort that he was more likely to be the one in the throes of paranoia, when he abruptly stopped leaning against the mantle he had been relaxing upon for the past few minutes and strode towards her, yanking her hand in his and leading her out of the room.

"Where-," She gasped, half-trotting, half-running to keep up with Athrun, "Are you taking me?"

"To your room," He replied automatically, "Where you should be anyway. I relieved the twins of their duties. In any case, I want you to meet someone."

She bit back a cry of helplessness, because he had been kind enough already.

'Kind enough?' She screamed inwardly, 'Are you developing a Stockholm's syndrome?'

"It's time for me to introduce you to my assistant," Athrun said briefly, "And perhaps you'll enjoy his children's' company more than his."

She could barely protest as a person at the end of the corridor turned and she stumbled up to him, no thanks to Athrun, her cheeks flushed from activity and her eyes wide and questioning.

"Cagalli," Athun said casually, almost too causally, "I'd like you to meet Epstein Cleamont."

She stared at the man, losing her tongue. She never knew that Athrun went for the handsome ones- but then Athrun had an unconscious taste for beautiful things that were somehow difficult to understand at a single glance. But Epstein Cleamont was truly a masterpiece.

He was young, about Athrun's height and had a boyish face that reminded Cagalli of Kira instantly. No wonder her tongue-tied state then.

"Pleased to meet you," She managed, sounding a little shaky. Athrun looked at her with something like a scornful smile in his eyes, and Cagalli was suddenly afraid that she had done something wrong. But she hadn't- for if she had, then Epstein Cleamont would not have smiled so angelically. He was such a young man, and she was suddenly disconcerted that he was in this place for God knew what reason. Would his children resemble him?

"As it is with I," He said acquiescently, smiling to reveal how charismatic his nature was, "And I hope we will get along well."

"I trust you both will," Athrun said, with only the barest hint of a warning lurking in his voice. What did it mean, Cagalli wondered. Were they exchanging a sort of silent conversation to remind Epstein to keep mum on certain things, as the rest of the people she was currently in contact were doing? Or was there something more?

Epstein swept his hand in a deep, graceful bow, and Athrun strode of in the direction of another corridor, and within seconds, had materialized into thin air. Cagalli muttered something and then blushed when she realized that Epstein had been gazing intently at her.

Slightly uneasy, she looked at him, not understanding why something was familiar and unfamiliar about the person staring at her.

"I think I can say this, without over-assertion or presumption," Epstein said gently, "You are very beautiful. No wonder then, that my master insists and ensures that you do not come to any harm."

Her embarrassed pleasure at being complemented by him was ruined immediately as she scoffed derisively. "Do not come to harm? I suppose not, if your definition of harm does not include wasted hours of sheer boredom and the ten thousandth reading of reports on the Plant Economy in the Cosmic Era year twenty-three."

He laughed, and she was pleased to see that it was genuine. She took in a deep breathe and stared at him, taking note of his pleasant features and the auburn hair and pale blue eyes, the well tailored grey suit and the black gloves that were dark clashes against his fair coloring. Together, the contrast was both striking and unforgettable.

"If you will please follow me," Epstein said pleasantly, "You'll find our lunch ready."

She shook her head, feeling slightly dejected. "I'll never recognize and learn the system of these corridors."

He smiled teasingly. "I could teach you."

Her ears pricked up. "You would? Truly? Why, thank you! It's been harder than climbing the wall with two fingers where it comes to learning about where The Isle is and where this house is on The Isle in the first place. If it was such a Godforsaken secret, then," She bit her lip. "Then why bring me here in the first place?"

Epstein looked at her sharply. "I will reveal to you all I can about this place that my master has allowed for you to know at this point. Other than that, we must either ignore your questions or risk the ruining of an otherwise pleasant meeting. And it is fate that we meet, for he believes you are a key of sorts."

She started, her face changed by the impact of the bombshell he had just dropped. "Key?"

He grinned. "In due time."

There was not a hint of patronizing disdain or scorn, rather, mellow warmth was the distinctive timbre of his voice, and she found herself trying to memorize each note of the complex interweaving of melodies within his sentences, trying to grasp onto a sort of song that would never be played again.

He showed her the system of doors, how one was adjoined to each other, and how turning in the opposite direction did not lead one backwards to the same door, but showed another room's entrance. Intrinsically, it did make sense, although the system was not instinctive. It was an abyss- escaping would mean finding one door that led to the final one of an exit. And which direction would the escape have to be planned in? She would not try now. Too many doors were locked.

Epstein opened a door and she followed him through it. Inside, was an absolute bower of blooms and the glass ceiling revealed another level of gardens above them. One could have easily imagined someone looking down at them the way humans peered into fishbowls, watching the creatures swim about. Now, she and Epstein were in that position.

Delightedly, she ran over to a parameter of curiously-shaped flowers, hawthorn like and pink like Bachelors Buttons, but more exquisite. "Why, I've seen these before!"

He smiled lightly to reply. "Those are red clovers. I imagine Mr. Estragon must have presented some to you. They were taken from the Baltic Coasts and planted here."

This was true. He had given her a bouquet of those, although she had not taken much notice of them, not because of anything in particular, but because each evening with him was often fraught with unease and apprehension.

"Red clovers?" She questioned, "Why these? I don't recall Athrun having a preference for these."

Epstein looked carefully at them, and she had the impression that he was avoiding her eye. "These are the national flowers of Denmark."

"National flowers," She said warily. Something did not fit here. Athrun had no need to plant these here in a show of patriotism, and yet, these were so well-maintained and beautifully grown. Surely, he did not have so pronounced affection for these?

A quick glance revealed the same care that the other flowers had received. There were lattices of Madonna lilies she had received before from Athrun, white and very pure to look at, valleys full of multi-colored cabbage-like roses with their deep perfumes, and other varying shades of wild blooms. This place was not quite maintained with a steel ruler, she could see, and somehow, the hint of wildness added to its charm. There might have been a dozen or so who worked on the flowerbeds everyday, tending carefully to ensure its continued beauty, and yet, there was no one in sight.

Amidst these, were white statues dancing amongst dark green weeds, and their eyes were full of empty hopes as they mimicked those who were not frozen in eternity. A circular white-marble fountain was at the centre of the concentric rings of flowers, and fat goldfishes leapt under the silver drops that cascaded from the fountain's peak.

Now. a large ginger tomcat wandered to them and with delight, she fondled its marmalade head and it seemed comfortable and familiar perhaps, with Epstein. The only thing that seemed incongruent with all of this was the glass ceiling above their heads and the factual realization that plants grew above that surface of it.

"How does one get to the second storey of this green house?" She asked curiously.

Epstein looked apologetic. "Through another door of another storey, I'm afraid. I cannot lead you there, however."

"It's alright," She assured him, "I would have expected that anyway. Nevertheless, this is a fine sight."

He was put at ease, and led her forward where a table was set for two.

"You have given my employer quite a lot of trouble," He teased, offering her a seat.

She took it and scowled, but complied with his courteous gesture anyway. "Why does Ath- Rune Estragon not dine with us?"

He turned back a little, smiling secretively. "Business matters."

"Oh," Cagalli said distractedly. "Wasn't he occupied since this morning until now? Is not still incomplete? In this very place?"

Epstein nodded a few times, shrugging smilingly. And she realized how much she liked him.

"You know," He told her, "The Manor is divided into two, and then two again, so there are in fact four wings, two main ones, and four sub ones. Of course, you'd have familiarized yourself with the entire East Wing by now, so there is no reason to suspect that the layout of the West Wing, which is where Mr. Estragon's quarters are, would be any different."

"I noticed though," She said thoughtfully, "That one half of the East Wing is very much larger than the other, which is the one I reside in. Is it the same for the other main wing then?"

He looked surprised, then wary, and then, smiled interestedly. "An astute observation. I suppose it won't do any harm to reveal that your guess is quite accurate. The master of the Manor, however, resides in the smaller sub wing, citing preferences for less confusing corridors and a more localized layout."

Their conversation was light-hearted and pleasant, and it was entirely different when he deflected her pointed questions. Athrun would have made it clear that she was pressing her luck, but Epstein was completely different. He looked apologetic and looked so pitiful that Cagalli was embarrassed for even trying to wheedle information from a loyal and trustworthy man that Epstein was.

On hindsight however- he was shrewd enough to portray the charismatic, slightly absent-minded but clearly very efficient person that he was. Underneath it all, she suspected that the waters ran for miles at great depths. Her suspicion was hinged to the fact that Athrun had an outstanding habit for working with people who were like him, and Epstein was probably one of them- unassuming on the outside and unfortunately very intelligent with a great deal of cunning on the inside.

Too soon, a few more hours passed, and she knew it was time to return when Epstein kept looking at his watch, inducing her to smile disappointedly and say, "Will I see you again?"

"I hope so," Epstein replied instantly and genuinely, and she was pleased with his answer. Cagalli found that she did not mind his company, in fact, she enjoyed in his skill at making conversation and his sincerity.

He led her back to her room, and she was sorry to see him turn his back to her and unlock it so she could step into the cage she had grown so familiar with. Miserable suddenly, she turned to him and waved as he stood outside the door, relaxed on the surface, but careful on closer inspection- he was ready to prevent her from protesting if she had ever considered doing that. But she didn't, and he smiled and shut it. The lock activated once more.

She smiled serenely to herself, feeling well at ease, and turned around and promptly gasped.

Athrun was sitting quite composedly on the edge of her bed, his long legs folded neatly, the room spick-and span and not a single thing out of place, save for the crumpled papers he held, straightened out and wrinkled like pale lettuce leaves on the maroon coverlet. His expression was indiscernible.

His gloves, the gloves he had always entered with and never taken off once, lay discarded by the side of the vanity, silky white and very fine. This was incongruent. He had never taken off his gloves in this room before. They looked as if he had meant to wear them again- as he always had once he stepped into the room, but today, he had not.

She stared, her heart beating very violently.

"I hope you enjoyed your entertainment," He said politely, with the air of welcoming back an acquaintance who had only just returned from the theatre. "I know I did."

In bolt of lightning speed, she ran over, accidentally brushing past the vanity too fast and causing the lid of the pretty trinket box with the cat sitting on top of the lid to slide off and fall to the ground, scattering brightly-colored baubles and trinkets everywhere on the floor. A pearl necklace broke as she tripped badly over the things, and the milky white drops sprung all over the carpet, pure but weak against the raging depth of maroon that covered the ground.

Something in her screamed for Cagalli to remain calm. But it was unheeded.

Angered and fearful, she reached him and reached for the papers he held in his hands now, as if tempting her to fight for her secrets that had been foolishly written on paper.

Her wrists extended towards him, and the last thing she recalled of a valid consciousness was a hint of a smirk on his handsome face before his hands wrapped like vines around her naked wrists, the way he had expected them to reach for the papers, the way he had expected that she'd fall for the bait on the bed. They clamped down tight and she yelped in pain as he tossed her easily onto her own bed, pressing down her weight with his own. A hand grasped the circumference of her throat and she choked the last of the breath of air.

Nothing was uttered.

The pearls still lay scattered in all directions. The string was a sad line of silk, harboring only a few of the former inhabitants, the spaces between each tiny globe increased beyond belief in a misrepresentation of a necklace. The effect was a dissonance in the impeccably arranged room.

She opened her eyes, flinching, not quite feeling the fingers around her throat, although those might have left a bruise.

He gazed at her, unwillingly taking note of how exquisite she was even without beautiful garments or glittering pieces that would have only enhanced her beauty at best, and not given her what she did not already possess. Her eyes were staring up at him, apprehension and panic staining them, her lips curved and parted, pink and ripe, and her golden hair framing her face on the pillow. Gingerly, he let go of her throat. The semi-state of choking she had been in eased and she coughed badly.

She was sure that he could hear the pounding of her heart, notice how she was transfixed by the strength and deftness in which he had pinned her down and was mesmerized by the depth of his eyes and the pain in them- pain because of what?

She didn't know that the pain blossoming in her chest, the pain of reminiscence and recollection, the agony of understanding that time was impossible to regain, was the same thing that his eyes carried.

Abruptly, he spoke. His voice was harsh and rough, whispered like an uneven surface grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you wanted to do with the directions you cleverly memorized. Directions, I think, along the way from the roof balcony to your room, and those you wrote down in case you needed confirmation again."

Her eyes widened, and she began to struggle, kicking and trying to push him off, but he held firm and avoided her attacks easily.

The paper he had held fluttered to the ground, revealing her self-written instructions on the exact number of steps from one end of the corridor to the roof, where she had planned to go so that the vantage point would give her some clue as to which way the sea extended, and from there, what possible locations The Isle was at. To give due credit, Cagalli had not been as foolish as to write the steps down without first using a code. But he had solved it effortlessly- he knew his own stronghold like the back of his hand, well enough to know what she had been planning.

"Tell me," He drawled, pressing so hard on her wrists that she cried out and ceased her movements, "That my suspicions are correct. You know what I think, don't you?"

"What?" She cried, losing her wits.

"You were trying to escape," Athrun said calmly. "Even though I tried so hard to keep you satisfied. What do you want? What more can you want?"

She could not do anything but to choke out, "Let go!"

He did, but only with one hand, and he got off the bed, yanking her to a sitting position, and swiftly reached for something in his pocket. Cagalli started to struggle, but it was a moment too late, and his hand that held one hand still captive was far too strong. The thing he whipped out gleamed mysterious and silver in the air for a second; and a terrible snap was heard, and there was metal cutting slightly into her skin, the other end clipped around the bed post.

She began to scream in earnest, pulling and yanking hard against the bed pole although the bed was too heavy for it to be slackened by her struggling, and she cried out, like a hare trapped in a trap while knowing that the hunter was observing it struggle helplessly.

He watched her momentary loss of sanity, feeling sickened by everything, how indomitable her spirit was but how untamable the woman he had loved was. She was a tempest, a whirlpool, drawing him deeper and deeper in until he was senseless and insane to win a sort of golden prize and everything he desired, and now, he was ruining her, step by step, strand by strand, until she would be entirely useless and broken. But he needed her to stay put.

She was still screaming, her coarse shrieks filling the room with strains of panting insanity and ear-shattering manifestations of the same fear. And suddenly, Athrun, enraged by her pointless disobedience and disregard for her surroundings, stalked to the bed and brought himself next to her. She did not notice him; she only continued to cry out, panting and wrenching her hand against the cuff.

But he caught her head between his hands very swiftly, and lowered his head forcefully, making her mouth captive for his lips, kissing her for her disobedience and biting her fiercely to feed his lust, taking entire possession of her will as her voice was cut off and her form, trapped beneath his, froze.

He finally broke it, observing her swollen lips and the rising and falling of her shoulders as she continued panting. Tears were streaming openly down her cheeks, and the other free hand was clenched near the imprisoned hand, as if she could unlock it with the free hand.

And remorse was unwelcome, but very relevant in this situation where he could do nothing more than to remember and feel the past taking control of his will to be someone who she did not know anymore, someone who was not Athrun Zala. He was Rune Estragon- master of the household and gatekeeper to the secrets held beyond her reach. Rune Estragon did not care if she hurt herself as long as she lived, he did not care beyond the fact that she would have to remain captive for him to use her properly for his purposes.

Roughly, he wiped the tears away with his fingers, and Cagalli gave a dry sob and trembled. He felt a surge of very warm desire run through him, and tautly sat up next to her while she half-sat, half-lay, held by the silver cuff.

Her mouth was trembling, crumbling.

Then abruptly, took her into his arms, pressing her soft head against his chest, sensing how her wet cheeks stained his shirt, feeling her body quiver violently like a mounted bow with a ready arrow in its sling, feeling his own pleasurable sensations course through him immeasurably and uncontrollably. Was he to be Athrun Zala now?

He pressed his mouth against the tip of her cold ear, feeling the fine skin grow warm and pink with his attention, and still holding her by her shoulders so she was even more constrained, he tickled the sensitive rim with his breath. He had missed this- missed the effect she had on him without her full consciousness. Did she understand? Perhaps, perhaps not. Most probably not. Did she want to? No. Most certainly not.

The thoughts were becoming muddled. All he knew was that he had her. She was his. She was not allowed anywhere else, nobody else was allowed to have her. She was flinching, as if she was repulsed by him. But it did not make a difference. She was his now.

She tensed, still shaking, but he ignored her reactions. The cuff, diabolical, was a symbol of her captivity, but it was silver and bright. He hadn't wanted to harm her.

"I'm going to apologize for the last time," Athrun said coarsely. "But I need you here. I would never do anything to hurt you. But you mustn't do anything to harm yourself. Just please, trust me fully, completely. There are certain things that cannot be allowed, and you must learn your place here on The Isle."

Not struggling anymore, Cagalli lay still as a crumpled mess, alive and soft near his body, like a molten fire he wanted to have entirely to himself. Then she spoke, and her voice was shaking, a dying song, hoarse from her screaming even though there was no possible help, but determined beyond a humane possibility and any rational belief.

"You say there are things that cannot be allowed. I understand. But what will you want in exchange for them then?"

He stared at her, surprised and slightly appalled by the desperation in her face, how close she was to breaking herself entirely. And his own desire for her, made even more intense by the proximity and the warmth of her body that flooded through the thin linen of her blouse, caused the sudden rush of blood to his head. He thought of her admiration for Epstein, the faint warmth and vitality in her that a single glance had restored, and the way she was trying to escape now, and felt half-faint with bitterness. Had she taken lovers during the seven years? Most probably. There were a few she could have married with a nod of her head. Now she wanted an exchange. It was an insult to him, a slap across his face.

But it did not change the issue that he needed to sustain her and possibly, himself.

"Very well." He said savagely, his being reduced to beast, "What do you want?"

"I want to leave," She said in a tiny voice. She was not fighting him, and she allowed him to hold and press her close to him in that way, but she had neither a distinction of choice nor any sign of being as affected as he was by her at that very moment. That was the point, really. That she had no choice but to let him hold her as he pleased. He would have let go because of the intrinsic knowledge and self-awareness of the basal, terrible weight of his own desires, but those were important to fulfill too.

He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. "Impossible."

Frustration gripped at her face. "Then I want to know what is happening outside The Isle- what's happening in Orb and the rest of the world."

Again, he shook his head, feeling a bleakness that she had by virtue of proximity and the intensity of her emotions, forced in him, no matter how ironic it was in that sense. And there was evident misery somewhere although it was subtle and the intensity of his eyes was far more of the essence at the moment.

"Then," Cagalli whispered desperately, "I want all the information about this goddamned place before I find a way to kill myself."

She did not understand, in all her willfulness and the madly determined spirit, that she had pushed him over a line of self-conscience and pure, fraught desire. She had shown him the last straw, taken away the last reserve of hidden honor and unburied the desire in him. He might not have given in to her and his own desires if she had merely asked. Now she was threatening him. It was a valid threat she would have carried out- that he was sure of. She was leaving him no choice.

He began, delicately, to stroke her head, skillfully untangling the yarns of gold and the messy tangles that he combed out with his fingers. She did not resist again, merely looked at him with a subdued pain, and he was convinced then, that she believed that she had nothing more to lose. But she was wrong, and she had somehow helped him to take advantage of that very fact that she had nothing to gain but everything to lose in the long run with her incessant questioning.

So Athrun looked at her in the eye, forgoing all notions of honor against the face of temptation and gaining instead, the burning need to make her recall what they had possessed in the past.

He said softly, "I can offer that."

"Good," Cagalli said wearily. "Now what do you want? I can't offer anything at this point, nor anything that matches the value of what I can obtain from you at this stage, but I have an inheritance you might find useful for funding, or lifelong insurance of your rights even as a traitor of Plant in Orb. If you want-,"

"In exchange for what I can offer," He broke in, visibly shaken but steeled in his resolve, as steeled as she had been in hers, "You will personally sign the legalization of an Orb citizenship."

She understood this. The citizenship would allow him to do business there without the immediate weight of the taxes, along with many other advantages. And Athrun had a Plant passport and presumably one here- of course he would desire one from Orb, the leader of the neutral nations.

Eagerly, she nodded.

But Athrun stared at her and said slowly, "That's not all."

"Is it not enough," Cagalli argued, "For something as trivial as information about this place?"

He shook his head. "The information about this place, just the very empirical information, would allow you to piece together some part of my plans that you should not know at this stage."

And she took it- hook, line and sinker. "Alright. What else do you want in exchange?"

Athrun's eyes refocused on her, where they had wandered to a space behind her head, as if he had been hesitating about something previously. Now, there was no hesitation or consideration, for the decision had been made, and the deal would be carried out.

"A kiss."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I want you to kiss me," He said quietly, "Kiss me like you mean it."

There was a difference to the kisses he had seized from her lips. She had not kissed him back, merely tried to break free. It was another action altogether, fiery and tantalizing in its rebellious nature, but it wasn't enough for him to quell the fire that raged in him. She understood, suddenly, and she began to stammer as the weight of the words burnt in the air and on her flesh, the way his fingers drew warmth from her flesh as he held her close to him.

"Athrun! T-That's not possible, I-,"

He looked stormily at her, watching her discomfort with every ounce of will that poured form his emerald eyes. "Then the deal's off."

She hesitated. There was no hope in saving her soul if she did not do it herself.

And so, Cagalli drew in a deep breath.

The die was cast.

Silenced rang throughout the room, her form still shivering against him in not cold, not repulsion now, but a maddening agony, the knowledge of what could be risked with the resurfacing of memories and hopes that had been laid to rest a long time ago, and what it meant to allow herself to desire one she had tried to forget for so long. But the trembling of her body was ceased as he held her more tightly and protectively than ever, like a man who had lost something a very long time ago and had only just recovered his loss. They remained like that for a little longer, the way he had brought her tighter into his arms, binding her in a grip tighter than the one the cuff had on her wrist, and he bound her tighter than the contract they had made, straight after the instant when she uttered a single word.

"Done."

* * *

_5 months. 9 days_


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

A pile of paper pieces, ripped white wings, lay in a waste basket in the far, far corners of the room, amongst other miscellaneous things, apples that had been pared for her and such. Those were calendar pages, clandestine and useless.

She lay in her bed, chained to it, as if she were merely reclining like a resting seraphim in the soft white muslin dress they had changed her into. But the cuff gleamed on one wrist. They had wanted to make sure that she was incapable of harming herself first.

But it would be foolish to try breaking free of it, as much as it was instinctive. It was pointless, and she wanted freedom here on The Isle, even if it was a limited one. And tfo gain that, she had to be obedient. Athrun had asked that of her- no, forced that out of her.

So when Cartesia approached her with food that she would feed to Cagalli, Cagalli forced herself to accept it.

While she ate clumsily with her left hand gripping the utensil badly, Cartesia stood apprehensively, the metal circle of the tray pressed to her body, her white fingers gripping at its edge. Her pale eyes were fearful.

"What is it?" Cagalli asked bewilderedly, "Do you think I'll kill myself?"

She began to laugh quietly, in a manner that did not suggest full sanity. Cartesia stared, wide-eyed, and shook her head mutely. "Your Excellence, I only think that-,"

Her small, rough voice shook and crumbled to nothing. Cagalli's eyes regarded her with something like subdued misery. "Say it, whatever you are thinking. There are too many things being thought that are not said. I cannot understand anyone here on The Isle."

Athrun's imperceptible gaze sifted through her mind. His lips were always sealed. How would she pry them open?

He wanted a kiss. Why didn't he just take it as he had before? She was chained now- she would not struggle very much in any case. Her mind was plagued with his games. Soon, she would be broken.

"I was only thinking that Your Excellence is suffering so much. I was thinking that I would take some onto myself if I could." The girl's whispered tones were very faint and she looked frail and ill with knowing what her master was capable of. Her white knuckles were already bone-brittle, and Cagalli noticed a few bandages on her small fingers. What had she been up to?

Cagalli's eyes softened. "Impossible, and I would not allow it. But I thank you. Will you sit?"

Carefully, Cartesia sat on the edge, afraid to come close, afraid that she would go as far as to touch a single fold of the splendid white muslin that lay everywhere, but there was a carelessness to which Cagalli wore it with and the picture was somehow disconcerting in its strange beauty.

Cagalli forced a bite down. "What's been going on in the Manor?"

Cartesia chewed her lip. "I think it would be safe for me to say that the master has been in a foul temper. Oh, he doesn't show it openly," She added, noticing the exasperation on Cagalli's face, "But he locks himself in the drawing room for longer than usual and argued with Mr. Cleamont over something. It was all muffled, but then the rooms are very well sound-proofed and if you can hear nay a sound at all, it must be a loud one."

They looked at each other, and doubtlessly, they were imagininfg Athrun's stormy eyes. Something must have gone wrong for him to raise his voice; certainly, it was uncharacteristic of a man like him.

"Foul mood, you say," Cagalli mused, putting the utensil down, "Perhaps something didn't go according fto his plans?"

Cartesia's eyes silently pitied her. "I'm afraid it was you, fmy Lady."

"Surely," Cagalli said in disbelief, "He did not think I would sit still, missing from the world outside The Isle, without the single notion of escaping?"

Her companion shook her head, looking like a quaint albino bird perched next to her. "I think he had hoped against all possible hope that Your Excellency would. Perffhaps I go too far in saying this, but he must have hoped this for your own sake and his."

A click of the door and a clearing of the throat echoed.

"You may go."

The girl jumped up, curtseyed and fled. Cagalli turned around slowly and watched Athrun. In turn, he surveyed her with a slight frown on his face, although she instinctively understood that it was not she he was upset with. Most likely, he was upset with the general.

"Well," He said after a moment of silence when the door had shut securely, "Don't let me interrupt your dinner."

She ignored him, turning the only part of her body she could control away, so that her face looked at the ivory walls, and Cagalli did not touch the food anymore.

He settled on the bed and held the spoon to her lips. Stubbornly, she turned her head away, as far as she could until she strained, aching slightly as she unconsciously revealed the stretch of white-honey, the perfect expanse of neck he found himself quietly admiring. Her eyes were golden and rebellious.

And he sighed a little.

"Must we go through all of this?"

She watched the haze of sumptuous steam rise high and lazily in circles, like concentric layouts of brides leaping to the skies, in their white, wispy glories. The meat was most probably roast pork, and the baby vegetables were sautéed today. But Cagalli swallowed whatever appetite it had induced in her and turned away.

"Until you unchain me and agree to give me information, "Cagalli said through gritted teeth, "Yes. We certainly must."

He glanced at the cuff and then regarded her with something like long-suffering in his eyes. "I want to make sure that you don't harm yourself first."

Cagalli snorted. "I can hardly believe the irony you drench you words in. By chaining me here, haven't you already harmed me?"

"Only because you tried to escape." He remarked calmly.

"Of course I would!" Cagalli said angrily. "You refused to tell me anything!"

She glared at him and demonstrated her unwillingness to be obedient by forcefully tugging at the bed post she was chained to. The wood of the four-poster was already scratched, but she didn't care. Neither did he, for that matter- his eyes were fixed onto her raw wrist.

"Stop that."

"I won't if I don't want to." She said piquantly.

As if to mock him, her skin split, and a thin hiss eased its way from her lips the way trickle of ruby found its sliding way from the crack

He looked frustrated. "Do you want me to harm you?"

"Harm me?" She sneered. "Harm me so I won't harm myself?"

He shrugged flippantly. "Even if the logic seems unsound, I could always stoop to that myself. Or if I was afraid of getting my hands dirty, Miles would suffice. Epstein's my assistant- he would do nicely as well."

Her reaction was a livid one.

"You coward," Cagalli spat. "Your hands are bloodstained and as filthy as what you harbor in you. Your father gave you that as part of your inheritance didn't he? All the time you spent trying to deviate from his nature- you went back to the War, did you not? Do you see the blood on your hands as I speak now?"

The words came fierce and wild, like a lashing of a whip against their faces and bodies, and she knew how presumptuous they were. Cagalli had her hands bloodstained as well, she was not very different from this man sitting across her. And yet, she hated him for being imperceptible and his composure, the way he pretended to care about her well-being when he most certainly did not. Those times had long been over. The Second War had come and gone, aged them all, made some part of her blood run dry, and time had passed since then. They were pledged to be man and wife once, but that time had passed. He was Rune Estragon- not Athrun Zala.

She lunged badly at him, restrained by the cuff, and she was effectually pulled back with a terrible raw scraping to her wrist. The pain did not come- the little that entered her was nothing in comparison to all that had already been there, and the little that she felt was a relief. She could still feel, couldn't she?

Athrun watched her with no change of expression- and her heart sank deeper than she thought possible. He simply did not care. Whatever his plans were, those that involved her would require no more than a pawn. And she was already one. Her mouth trembled.

"There's blood on your hands." She whispered stubbornly.

He did not show any sign of being successfully provoked. "Obviously. Now, will you open your mouth?"

She looked at the spoon of food he was offering and the soft, hidden pain in his eyes.

Her hands shook.

But his were steady.

Instantly, she regretted all that she had said. Stiffly, she parted her lips and took it in her mouth.

The taste was immensely satisfying but hollow at the same time. She might have been eating crushed autumn leaves. But his eyes were tender.

"Thank you," He said briefly. "Now another."

They sat there, in that queer co-operation they had agreed upon, and she obeyed until she could not swallow anymore, and only then did he leave her. The mouthfuls she had taken were salty and wet with the tears that escaped freely from her eyes, and he had wiped them away carelessly, bringing another spoonful to her mouth, concentrating on the task ahead. He gave no indication to the tears that she could not rein in when he was so close by, and Cagalli herself was afraid to look at his eyes. When he wiped them away, they both pretended that nothing had happened.

When he left, she was alone again. The throbbing wrist was bleeding with its scratches.

Cartesia crept through a while later, and Cagalli absent-mindedly allowed her to bandage the hand. Her mind was on him, fixated with not the past, but the present of what he was.

He would always be a combination of dialectic points, cruelty and tenderness intermingled as one, and he was Rune Estragon and Athrun Zala as the same being while here on The Isle. Were they the same person?

Possibly.

And she had allowed Rune Estragon to be borne from him.

* * *

Tonight, he brought her an amusing wooden toy, a bit like a Rubik's cube, but with twenty-four hexagons that formed a giant one.

"If you find the correct side and make all of the twenty four hexagons face it," he said, "It will open."

"What's inside?" She asked in her curiosity, quite forgetting to be aloof and distant.

He looked directly at her. "If I told you, it would stop you from trying to open it."

This was true. The opening was for the sole purpose of finding what lay within, the chase of the hunt, possibly. She had a sudden vision of herself sitting there for every night, trying to open it. Perhaps it was stave off her boredom.

"I could smash it open," Cagalli countered. "And it would certainly be easier with one hand than trying to open it like this."

He looked amused, and she found herself warming up a little. They knew she would not do such a thing because it was not in her nature to destroy to obtain something. But then, she had to ruin it all.

"Unless you mean to free me so I can do it with both hands?"

"No," He said calmly, not missing the rashness in her voice and the flush under her cheeks. "Not even from this bed. You tried to escape, and I cannot allow that."

Her frown deepened. "And what if I promise not to?"

"My trust amounts to nothing if you betray it," Athrun replied morosely. "I cannot risk you escaping from here and going to the mainland or anywhere outside The Isle."

She gritted her teeth, wanting to shake her fist at him but not doing so anyway. "Why are you doing this? I'm not a fool- surely if I go back to Orb, a plan of yours would be ruined. And I know this place is within the Denmark borders and oceans, according to what you said at least. If I am held in the Scandinavian region even while they realize I was abducted there, surely Orb will be making forceful inquiries. I've been here for a month, damn it!"

A moment passed whereby he surveyed her heaving chest and her tightened lips, and he disquietingly crossed his legs. Cagalli was straining so hard against the cuff; he thought she would shatter herself entirely from just that action. But no- it was not forceful enough, and in any case, he would not have allowed her to harm herself that way.

Certainly, as she had asserted, Cagalli was no fool. Athrun had long recognized this and valued it with so many other things she harbored within the physical vessel he had now pinned thus to the bed. It seemed unjustified and crude to lock someone like her to a metal frame, even if the bed was made of solid, highly-polished and golden brass with choice sheets and plump pillows to bolster her back. But she didn't deserve to be locked here like this. Or did she?

An uprising of intense, almost hatred-like emotion rose in him, and he focused on her face. There was innocence in her anger, a naiveté in believing that all that mattered was for her to return to Orb to resolve the matter of her abduction. He could not fault her guilessness, he could only resent her lack of knowledge of how she hurt him with that naiveté.

"A month. You're absolutely right."

He watched as she lost her stateliness. So fascinating was she, a woman at times, a child for some others, a noble Prince for the majority of it, a Lioness partially, so many things at so many different times. Now, she was a woman, impatient, shrewish and so strangely interesting.

"And where the hell is this place?" She exclaimed loudly in her anger. "It's Godforsaken or something?"

"Technically," Athrun replied humourlessly, "Yes. It's one of the many islands that I told you about. By itself, it isn't even written on the most recent, up-to-date map because the people who rediscovered it are the inhabitants who now guard its secret fiercely. Even the powers that rule over the borders drawn on the map have no knowledge of it. It won't harm me to tell you a little to what is the prelude of our agreement- this place was blasted to smithereens in one battle before the Bloody Valentine, and it's been forgotten since then."

She listened to this eagerly, but then her face fell. "But so many other places had the same fate! Even Orb territories have been written off maps!"

"I told you," He said genially. "It wouldn't harm me to tell you all that I just did, and it didn't, did it?"

Her frown deepened in contrast to his calm countenance.

"Well?" She demanded fiercely. "When do I get to go back to Orb?"

"I told you," He said calmly. "You'll stay here for half a year or five months more, since you've just passed the first one."

"I can't accept that." Cagalli replied in a low voice.

Athrun looked entirely unfazed. "You don't have a choice. You can either stay here in agony or try to enjoy what this place provides in place of your immediate return to Orb. Why are you so keen to go back, in any case?"

Her mouth parted in a gape, and he noticed how radiant she looked in spite of the blazing anger, how much energy she had within that vitality in her eyes and the disbelief on her face. "Isn't it obvious?"

"What is?" He said irritatingly.

"Well, if I disappeared from the Baltic Sea while being a guest of Scandinavia's, then obviously, Orb would investigate on my behalf, or my permanent head of secretary's, at least. And if I don't get back soon enough to prevent that, it could well escalate into a fault finding mission when the guilty party is really and quite obviously you!"

She ended her tirade with a snarl that suggested something less than a human.

"Your permanent head of secretary's sake?" He said with a bark of laughter. "And why would he be that desperate to get you back? Wouldn't it be a chance of promotion? I could imagine the other lesser nobles of Orb vying for his attention and offering him things few can resist where rat races are concerned."

Her eyes narrowed. "Aaron isn't like that. He cares about me."

Athrun's face did not change, although the eyes became a little sharper. "Does he? What makes you think so? And where did he come from? Aaron Mauritius-Biliensky, was it?"

"What about it?" Cagalli countered. "Is anything wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Athrun breathed, his eyes like slits in the white mask of his face.

Cagalli leaned forward impassively. "Your'e just jealous because you don't have anyone like him to care about you the way he does for me."

It was a childish barb, meant only to provoke him, but Athrun found himself jerking with anger inside, beneath the facade of composure, and it bewildered him, although it was not unfamiliar. There was a face he associated this helpless distaste and immense dislike with, a face that had jeered at him while he had watched Cagalli being led away where he, Athrun, could not follow. Yuna Roma Seiran had been a pain in the ass, no doubt.

"Whether true or not," He said readily, shrugging. "It matters very little. I have my own plans that take precedence over petty little issues like those you associate yourself with."

Dear Lord. He was getting to be just as bad as her, like biting and scratching puppies fighting.

"Which is what?" Cagalli cut in sharply. "You've obtained some things haven't you? An Orb citizenship thousands of others would love to get their hands on, be it the international businessmen, the normal citizens or the political refugees. Isn't that what you wanted?"

He looked at her with a small smile tugging at his lips, and she was reminded of the other thing she had promised to exchange. Blushing tersely, she tried to cover the fact.

" I don't know why you wanted it, but if that's what you needed, you have it. Why can't you just let me go now?"

Athrun bent a little closer, catching her off-guard with his solemn emerald eyes that flashed a little in his face. "Those were side-profits. A little like the perks of a job."

The enormity of it made her flabbergasted, and she wrung one hand, the other jerking within the steel grasp of the cuff. "You're exploiting me, aren't you?"

"But you agreed to it," Athrun said, with a show of surprise, his eyes mocking her however. "Didn't you?"

This was true, no matter how terrible the situation had been in when she had been forced to make that decision. She had wanted the deal herself, and now, she could not blame him for setting the conditions that benefited him more than her.

He moved a little closer, and she instinctively backed away. "What are you doing?"

She could not move any further- she was basically chained to the bed and her back was being stuffed against the wall that the four-poster was adjacent to. But he eased closer, his face cool and imperceptible and the eyes boring through hers, and she shuddered visibly. He was sitting next to her now, no longer in the wooden, hard-backed chair for her visitor, but right next to her. Roughly, he took her face between his hands.

"Do you really want the information?" He said softly. "The information that would possibly, if you are fortunate enough, allow you to escape from The Isle?"

"What are you talking about?" Cagalli rasped, suddenly losing her voice, afraid to speak above his volume for fear that something would be destroyed, torn apart from that pervasive, delicate hold he now had on her. "I- I need to leave."

His lips were very close to hers, and she could feel the warm, vivid closeness of his breath on her lips and the tangy spice of his aftershave. She did not dare to inhale too much of it- intoxication was dangerous when it was he.

"Do you?" He said, curving his lips. "Is leaving The Isle really what you want?"

She found she could not answer. There were two possibilities for this inability: One, if she accepted her fate as a prisoner here for the half-year he had informed her of, the enjoyment of everything would suddenly heighten. And it was not a simple merry-go-round ride he was offering. Athrun was probably offering only the appetizer.

Besides, leaving The Isle like this, without first uncovering its secret seemed to be as annoyingly difficult as leaving the wooden puzzle alone, without first trying to open it. Returning to Orb to settle the differences that had arisen out of her disappearance would merely put a stop to the inquiry. And Cagalli herself was very sure of the fact that she would never reveal Athrun's existence or even his role in her disappearance. If asked how she had disappeared, she would lie and say she found herself washed ashore some hastily-researched island. False witnesses would be aplenty, and Aaron could arrange for that with no hiccups. Curiosity had always gotten the better of her, had it not? First, she had managed to unlock the room of her father's things and the woman in the photography who could not have been her mother. As a child, she had cried for days, knowing that the rumors were true- she wasn't other father's daughter. Then Heliopolis and the stolen weapons, and how she'd nearly lost her life for being there. Years later, was it to be the same? Would she really accept being a prisoner for the sole reason of finding out what lay in The Isle?

Yet, the dilemma was troublesome by itself: probing into why Athrun had fetched her here would hurt her more than his re-appearance itself. The possibility of him being with the terrorists had lurked in her mind, consciously and constantly, although it would be improbable. After so many years, Athrun was physically intact but perhaps it was as he had mentioned. The man no longer existed here.

She had offered Athrun this so many times during all her efforts to escape. All he had to do was let her go and she would return to Orb without a single mention of his name or anything that had transpired with The Isle. Throughout this, he had merely smiled and shook his head. It frustrated her to no end- either he did not trust her, or he did not agree with what she was offering.

Then what did he want? For her to eventually return to Orb and tell the whole world that he still existed, unlike what the conspiracies claimed of him with the corpse under Orb and all that rubbish?

But it was more than that. The second reason for her inability to confirm her desire to leave immediately was probably to do with the hands that were cupping either side of her face and their owner. It was very elementary. Leaving The Isle like this, if she did succeed, would close this chapter. She would be allowed to forget him entirely the way he had made the world forget him.

And leaving The Isle was the same as leaving him.

He had disappeared for seven years- no mean feat, presumably, since he was ultimately a war hero and an heir of immense fortunes, some probably even hidden from the declaration of property. How had he done this so completely and so perfectly?

A more pressing issue lay ahead of her, however. Her silence, derived form her hesitation in replying, was an opportunity for her to dip her head back, almost as if he were to capture her mouth and kiss her full. She looked into his eyes and saw memories, pain and some other things lurking there. Was it time for her to give what she had offered?

She closed her eyes, trying to shut herself off from remember anything of him. Athrun did not exist anymore. No such person would ever again. Was this man Athrun?

Who was Athrun?

What was he like?

Her memories stained her thoughts, those memories she had locked away for so long. The last of these were the faint recollections of how her body had melded into his arms as he had taken her into his embrace, swept her close to him for her head to rest on his shoulder, unembarrassed, painfully honest while the others watched. They might have never seen each other again, what with he on the Archangel to fight the battle of Requiem, and she in Orb. The immensity of them moment had been locked away then, locked in the ring she had given away, hoping that life would start afresh, the memories die out, and for him to be happy.

But he had come back for her.

She had refused him, driven him away.

And he had come back for her again, although in a very different way. He had chained her to this bed, and she would be at his mercy.

He watched her as she closed herself in the darkness of her shut lids and watched as her soft pink lips parted slightly, sending warning signals and yet, a thrill in him. But no- not now. He would save her for after, after making her kiss him as tempestuously as he wanted to kiss her now. Abruptly, he let go of her and observed her as her eyes opened in confusion.

"What is it?" She whispered.

Vaguely, she took in their surroundings. The color above him was white- the ceiling. Her head was caught by something soft and something less soft. The pillows, of course, she thought absent-mindedly, and one of his hands was tangled in her hair, the fingers around the back of her head. His shirt was a deep black, almost like the cold space she had once been in, save for the white of his forearms since he had rolled up the sleeves to reveal the lithe, sculpted parts that could crush whatever it wanted, and she shivered. The wall was ivory, and on their right, the rest of the room was blurred in colors with the curtain he had pulled down from the four-poster's frame, effectively cutting them off from anything else in that small chamber-like portion of the large room.

With a sudden shock, she realised that she saw all of this from the perspective of one behind pinned down, and effectively that was truly the case. But he moved off the crouching stance he had instinctively adopted, and blearily, she sat up.

"Not today," Athrun said suddenly, his voice authoritative. "The information won't be yours today."

"Why not?" Cagalli said, defensive and irritated for no proper reason. "Tomorrow is one more day here in this place."

He considered this, but then turned away, pulling the curtains open and striding to the door. "It's not as if you can escape with that information."

The door closed as she registered this and raged silently, with nobody to hear her. Had the deal been made for nothing? The citizenship, he probably wanted it for business benefits that she could condone as long as she never knew which businesses were under his control. But the second thing-

Enraged, she shouted at the door, thinking that nobody would hear her and taking advantage of how her uncivilised show of temper would never be seen "You know something? You're a bastard and I hope you never get laid!"

Unbeknowst to her on the other side of the door, Athrun stopped, looked back at the wooden face, and began, very quietly and helplessly, to chuckle.

* * *

He did not visit for two more days, and she despaired of having the deal done. Perhaps he had sensed her unwillingness to be near him and had written the entire thing off.

Boredom gnawed at her, and she began solving the puzzle, clumsily and badly with her left hand. But it was good enough to pass the time- every time she finished making one part of its entire spectrum face the side she was banking on, its beautifully inscribed mural on its face gleaming up at her, she wanted to shout for joy. But then it would not remain for very long. The elation gave way to frustration as she faced the next part that refused to face the side she had decided upon.

The food that was brought in never gave her clues to where she was, save that it was truly a place in the watery depths of ocean. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the fresh white fish every day, minimally seasoned with some salt and a thin coat of rich sauce. Potatoes were often brought in as well, well mashed to a cream that melted in her mouth, and sirloin meats with fresh greens that did not give a clue as to where they had been brought from.

"You must finish all the soup tonight," Cartesia piped up. "I had the cook make it specially for you."

Cagalli paused, looking at her. "Is there something special about it?"

The girl's back was turned to her, not facing her, she busying herself with something Cagalli could not quite identify at the angle they were both at. "It's very nutritrious, that's all."

The twins were very good to her, they often sat by her and told her jokes and anecdotes she would laugh over. Gradually, she began to trust them completely, allowing Cartesia and Laplacia some insight on who Athrun had been at one point or the other.

"We knew he was an important person before this," Cartesia said breathlessly, once Cagalli had finished telling them about Athrun's role in the war and the Infinite Justice he had piloted. "But we never knew he had done so much before coming to The Isle."

There was a slight irony in the entire scenario. It was almost like a mother telling her children about how heroic or immensely talented their father was to create the sense of awe the twins displayed as they sat next to her, their faces rapt with attention.

Cagalli glanced at them and laughed a little. "He's been forgotten by the rest of the world, I think. Save for the odd crop-up of controversy articles in third-rate magazines."

"Why did he leave all that?" Laplacia said in amazement. "To come here?"

Cagalli pursed her lips.

"I don't know," She said quite honestly. All she had wanted was for Athrun to get on with his life, move where she would not be so he could start over. Granted, he had done that, but it had been an extreme move, had it not?

"In any case," Cagalli said hurriedly, "The fact that you didn't know much of him means the both of you must have lived rather sheltered lives before this. Were you both born on The Isle? Athrun tells me nobody can get here without having been born here, in spite of his hold here," She laughed a little ironically. "So which is it?"

They exchanged glances.

"The truth is," Laplacia said hesitantly, "We were brought here, just as he probably was. Your Excellence, it is seven in the night, we must have you bathe and change into a new dress."

Cagalli's eyebrows raised high on her fine face. "Isn't every night an early night? And why don't'we all live a little?"

She grinned teasingly, and they smiled carefully, but their eyes looked at each others, a disconcerting thing for a third party, since it must have been like a mirror view of one pale-lilac haired girl looking at her own live reflection.

"Why the consistency with time today?" Cagalli said, suddenly confused. "Is Athrun coming?"

"The master is at home," Cartesia said after a pause.

Cagalli nodded a little, still nonplussed. So did that mean he was coming to see her?

They would not say any more, but busies themselves with unchaining her temporarily so she could bathe and cleanse herself while they prepared a fresh change of clothes for the night.

The bath was a little hurried. Today, they did not allow her to soak herself for as long as she wished for the warm water to lap around her and soothe the ache and sluggishness in her body from reclining or sitting upright for all day. With an attention for detail that surprised even herself, Cagalli noticed Cartesia shampooing her hair with a definite swiftness that bordered on carelessness if the girl had not been quite as expert with this task, and she had put in a little too much scented liquid into the bath- Cagalli would perfume her own bed later. It was aromatic and soothing in the rose and honey tanginess, and perhaps it made her yawn more than three times while in the bath. She giggled headily, feeling as though she were in a dream. For some reason, Laplacia and her twin did not laugh along with her sudden sleepiness. They hurried along like mice, pouring in more hot water into the pool-like depression in the ground Cagalli used as a bath-tub, one made of black and white marble, deep enough to drown her if she stooped a little and held her head under water.

Her meal had not been particularly heavy that night, but Cagalli felt suddenly drowsy. The atmosphere was not helping either- the twins had lighted candles, bathing the room in a golden-orange glow and making her drowsy. She stumbled to the bed, allowing Cartesia to lock the cuff back in place after checking the fresh bandages they had placed there. Her yawns were stifled only by her other hand as they fluffed her pillows and whispered amongst themselves. Cagalli was far too sleepy to concentrate on whatever they might have been saying, and in any case, they spoke in a strange language she had honestly never heard before. She had recognized traces of German in them, once, she had heard Athrun speak to them in fluent German, but this language- a dialect, perhaps?

The door creaked a little, and she was not sure if it had closed. The candles were not blown out completely- one or two remained and the wax was warm and slid down the lengths of the brass holders. They had replaced the flowers in her room, had they not? These were marigolds; their heady, powdery scents were making her even more tired.

The room was slightly stuffy, but she slept on.

How long did the hours pass?

She did not know.

But the door burst open, and she sat up in terror, forgetting her dream, forgetting that when she sat up too suddenly the way she was now doing, the cuff yanked hard against her.

Athrun had never burst in- the twins would not as well. But this person had.

The person standing in the doorway was pulling off his gloves, flinging it to one side, and Cagalli stared in the darkness and the single silhouette in the light of the opened door and lighted corridor beyond it.

"Who's there?" Cagalli called defiantly.

He was a very tall man. Taller than Athrun.

He came forward into the light, shutting the door, but not completely, as Cagalli's eyes noticed. There was a fine gap that did not enable the automatic locks to function yet.

She looked into his face as he pulled the bed's curtains apart. It was weathered and crusty- clearly not Athrun's.

His eyes were ochre, not emerald like Athrun's.

Why, she thought, suddenly desperate, why was she only able to think of Athrun as the man before her drew a gun out?

Her voice shook, ringing out into the expanse of the room.

"Who are you?"

He did not answer, and she was struck by how deep the scar down his face was. His beard was speckled with grey and his eyes like an animal's- savage and uncomprehending. He was quite heavyset, but the muscles bulged under his coat, and she knew he could break her leg as easily as bend a flower into two.

Instinctively, she shielded herself with the covers, disorientated from her sleep, not knowing if it was still the night or morning, and Cagalli might have made a dash for the door if she had not been chained to it. The gun was lowered to her temples. She could feel its cold muzzle against her even colder flesh. A drop of sweat was easing its way down the man's cheek and she was transfixed by the single bead.

"Who am I?" He repeated slowly. "I suppose telling you will not harm you. The dead keep their secrets well. You must die now, you understand, Cagalli Yula Atha? He has no more need for you."

His voice was twanged with the slight accent the twins had. So he had come from where they had both been originally? Would she know only that before she died? Why had Athrun no more need of her? Would this assailant not say?

"You are so lovely," He said wryly. "Pity about your death. That man will have to find a substitute for the nights, eh? We didn't think he'd grow so fond of you, but nobody takes chances here even if he does. Have you seen her yet? She looks almost like you. Uncanny really. Coincidence or more than that?"

He began to cackle.

And Athrun- why did he want her dead, had she not tried so hard to make him find his own happiness away from her? Was The Isle not good enough for him? Had he only wanted to bring her here so she could die? Was this a sort of revenge?

"We aren't- no," Cagalli croaked. "Oh please, don't d-,"

She had never wanted to hurt him, it had been carefully-executed, the secret removal of his application to the Imperial Orb forces even though his experience would put him there as a General if one wanted to look objectively at everything. Admiral in the sub-branch? Laughable- Kisaka had said that himself, but then she'd insisted and he had had to follow Cagalli's order since her father had made him promise to-

The muzzle sank into the flesh under her chin. He began squeezing the trigger.

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth in a silent shriek, pulling, tugging madly at the cuff and chain, trying to escape from this madman, imagining it was just her imagination, dreaming that she was still in the grip of her dreams, unable to break free from the cuff and the dream itself-

There was a hoarse scream that pierced the air and Cagalli felt something warm and strangely comforting spray its rusty crimson droplets across her face. The man's expression was not triumphant any longer- it was shocked and strangely curious, curious, perhaps, to see who had stabbed him right in the back and through his chest.

She stared, hypnotized by the silver tip that extended through his shirt's front. He had been stabbed, no, impaled by a sword. A long, fine blade with a silver hilt and a pale hand attached to it. The person holding it was staring at her, then at his victim.

The stranger began to wrestle with the blade he was being hung on to dry, allowing the gun to drop, and the blood was splattering everywhere, swallowed by the maroon of the carpets and the white of her dress. Those were like poppies in the snow.

A shot rang out, then another. And for good measure, another, in his chest.

The dead man fell on top of her, and Cagalli tried to say something, but all that came out was a muffled cry. He was still warm and gurgling his last moments. She peered down into his face and saw that his tongue was hanging out like the devil's, writhing and his eyeballs wide in his head like orbs that were bloodshot and near the point of explosions. The man coughed once, and something poured into her lap. She glanced down to see black blood and phlegm, poisoned and vile like an incurable disease in his lungs. He brought his trembling fingers to her face and smeared it with his blood, and the stench was unmistakable. Then the hand fell.

"Oh G-,"

"Cagalli," Athrun said urgently. "Cagalli."

He was crouching near her, and she squashed herself against the wall, afraid that he would touch her. He brought his hand near to her, and she saw the blood on it.

She calmed herself quite effectively- she bit back her scream by biting her tongue. The pain was comforting, although she found herself choking in the process. It was better this way. Then she would wake from the dream and find herself in her bedroom in Orb, where nothing had existed beyond her standard of normalcy and Athrun Zala was stored as a memory far behind her and there was nothing that existed that she knew of The Isle and the people who lived and died on it.

The corpse's face was huddled near her neck. His weight was immense and crushing.

'Good', Cagalli thought faintly. 'Crush me and smite me to death quickly. No more questions.'

She thought of Lacus and that perfect, glowing smile. Kira too, his boyish face serious and questioning as he had asked her in the first year, where Athrun had gone to. He missed his friend, didn't he? The questions ran through her head. Had that man made any sense? No. None. She had not understood a single thing except that he was to kill her and that Athrun had no more need of her. Had he sent the man in to harm her the way he'd threatened to with Epstein and Miles to help him?

'Athrun is not here', she thought feverishly. 'And he died a long time ago.'

But in an instant, Athrun was standing over her, prying her mouth open, stopping her from clamping it shut again by balling a fist, allowing her to bite onto the hard knuckles to silence her own screams. And his arms around her, he saying something that she did not quite hear, and when he did take the fist away, with some vague recollection of what her own voice sounded like, Cagalli was aware of the room being filled with the sounds of her hoarse, shrieking voice.

Athrun was throwing the sword aside and plying the corpse off. He had been alive only a few seconds ago.

It slid to the floor as a bloodied, broken heap. Its face grinned up at her and she was shoving madly, struggling against Athrun's arms as he tried to hold her, hurting herself and whatever of him that she could hurt, scratching, sobbing, blood on his hands and hers. And suddenly, he was not bothering to fight her anymore as she lay chained to the bed, but brought a stiff hand swiftly upon her neck, and her eyes widened and then closed as he delivered her back to her dreams.

* * *

The twins had her bathed and washed even while she slumbered fitfully, her forehead knotted with sweat they carefully cleansed. The fire in the hearth crackled fastidiously, and Athrun contemplated adding more coal to it. But anymore would change the comfortable temperature to a stifling one. He did not want that.

Nothing was left to remind Athrun of who had charged in here, ready to kill Cagalli Yula Atha, and then died because of that intent by Athrun's own hand. But the poison in his cup had already gotten him by then- Athrun was not entirely to blame for the man's death.

The flames licked at the dark shapes in the rectangular frame of the fireplace. He looked at it from where he was sitting and thought of the changed carpets and the ruined dress. White with blood- pointless to wash, really.

He had been in a quietly maddened state after he had saved Cagalli from being slaughtered in her own bed while she was chained to it. They had expected the intent and the action, but they had not expected the poison to take such a long time to work its effect on her assailant. And Athrun had only just made it in the nick of time.

"I will never risk that again." Athrun had said quietly to the twins. They looked at him with trepidation in their young faces, and hopelessly, he waved them away, convinced that they would not return while he was still there.

Nobody was allowed in this room when he was in it. That was an unwritten rule. Epstein had not set foot into this place, not even when Athrun trusted him entirely with his life. Friend or foe, nobody was allowed in it except those Athrun permitted in as servants.

But the assailant had sullied this ground with his blood and his very entrance. Athrun frowned and looked at the slumbering form on the bed. Cagalli was dreaming. Her lips were moving slightly and her eyes were partially but almost indefinitely open, as was her sleeping habit.

"Wretched child." Athrun murmured. "Poor wretched child."

He reached out and brushed a strand of golden hair from her pale cheek. She was clad in a pale golden sleeping gown Athrun had chosen for her, not as sensuous against the skin like silk, but as light as air and comforting to touch. Athrun himself chained her back to the bed. He had to- for their sake.

When his bonfire awoke, he was already sitting by her bed. He had been doing that for the past three hours, thinking of brighter, better and more hopeful times.

She yawned a little and looked at him with a misfit smile.

She was so close to forgetting.

But then she remembered and a wild look of panic came into her eyes. She backed against the wall, like a beaten animal, cowering, wringing the blanket between her hands, like a captive angel faced with a monster. Her face was contorted with fear. Athrun bent closer to reassure her, but a strangled sound escaped her throat and she threw a look of unthinking, unimaginable terror at the cuff he had replaced on her wrist after the twins had bathed and changed her.

"Hush," He whispered, trying to be as comforting as possible, "I'm here."

She opened her mouth in mute horror, and he realised, with a terrible hammering in his chest, that she was staring at his hands, shivering and cringing as if he would hit her. She must have seen blood there.

He saw it too. It was crimson and dripping to every inch of his body. But when he blinked, the hands, pale and perfectly-shaped, were facing palm-up at him. There was nothing. Everything had been washed off with a dash of cold water.

Cagalli was huddled against the wall, her knees drawn protectively to her chest. She was mewling hoarse ragged sounds, no words, just sound, and her cheeks were blotchy as she held her tears back, broken but proud still. He could not bear to break her any more.

He turned away, ringing a bell. In a minute, the twins had arrived.

"Take care of her," He said quietly, and only the twins heard the regret in his voice.

* * *

Three days passed, and he lost his patience.

"What do you mean she hasn't recovered from the shock?" Athrun said in a low voice. His pen was still scribbling across the paper and the twins trembled, their faces very white. "Did you not do as I instructed?"

"Please," Laplacia said tremblingly, "The last we spoke to her and received a reply was during her meal, three days ago. We measured the right amount of drug, triple-checked it even if an overdose would not be potent, and it was the drug you selected for her to sleep soundly."

He nodded. "And she woke still. Of course, she was chained so it did not make a difference."

Cartesia spoke fearfully. "We cannot coax her to say anything, even to us."

"And she doesn't move much," Laplacia chimed in, not seeing Athrun's knuckles turning hard as he gripped the pen, still writing as he had before they had been sent in. Epstein watched the three of them, his eyes worried and his mouth tight.

"Why?" Athrun said calmly, putting aside the pen for the first time since they'd entered.

The windows had been boarded up since Cagalli had arrived. Now, they presented a stifling atmosphere to the overall situation. The papers were neatly piled, ready for submission. Epstein would take care of those later.

"We- don't know," Cartesia whispered. "We've tried talking to her, and she lets us change her clothes and bathe her, but she doesn't move. But when Laplacia presented her with a warmer blanket, she struggled against her chains."

"A new blanket?" Epstein exclaimed. "Why?"

"What color was it?" Athrun said sharply.

Thee looked confused. "White."

"Be clearer," Athrun asked between gritted teeth. "White? Not likely."

Laplacia looked like a lost kitten, pleading and not understanding. He could not blame her for it, but they anger was too great. How could they have miscalculated the poison's timing?

"It was a white background, but it had large patterns of dark maroon on the underside."

He imagined himself in Cagalli's state, frightened and chained to the bed, still plagued by terrible nightmares, and a new, thick blanket, maroon to her as it enveloped her, suffocating, a weight crushing down upon her face.

"Dark maroon. No wonder."

Black blood.

Infected, poisoned blood.

The corpse had been removed and he had only just settled the procedures involving the man. That man had been dead since he first stepped into Athrun's manor- he had been destined as a box of wormseed from the time his superior had asked him to come to Rune Estragon's stronghold.

He strode into her room, not caring to hear the frantic explanations the hurriedly following twins offered in explaining why she had not spoken yet. With a kind of violence that wasn't apparent until one looked deep into his face and saw that the action was not a merely forceful one, he ripped open the four-poster's curtains and glared at the form nestled in the bed.

"Cagalli-" His voice was sharp. "Get up and speak to me."

He turned to the twins. "Leave us alone."

They bowed uneasily and disappeared, closing the door so it locked, leaving her with him. He watched her apprehensively, not sure if their lack of presence and his in replacement of theirs would cause her to panic and break into hysteria. But she did not. Her face was turned to the side, a bit like an incomplete sculpture which did not have eyeballs within its sockets.

He sat in the chair by her side. "I said, sit up.

No response. He drew an angry breath, balling his fists into tight curls.

"Cagalli," He said in a low voice, "It's time you stopped brooding about it. He was a dead man anyway; you saw the poison in his blood. It would have killed him if I had given a few more minutes for him to struggle and fight it. And in that time he would have shot."

She did not move or even face him. Livid suddenly, the past few days of struggling suddenly coming down hard on his shoulders, he grasped her by her shoulders, pulling her to face him. The chain rattled, and he caught sight of her face. It was wan, almost unrecognizable, and the lips were nearly white.

"You saw a man die." He said slowly. "It's been a shock. I do not begrudge you that. But you must talk to me now."

She looked where she had when he turned her over- to the ceiling, not saying anything.

"What do you want me to do?" Athrun said tightly. "Shake you so you'll look me in the eye and talk?"

As if hearing him for the first time, she rotated her head slowly so she was looking straight into his face. There was a faded beauty he recognized, but it made his heart skip a few times, nevertheless. She had a sort of panic in her eyes now that he saw blossoming to her hands as she reached tiredly and held his harms the way he was holding hers, and she opened her mouth then closed it and shook her head.

A heart-wrenching mewling sound emitted and she began to shake her head again, hopelessly, tears spilling everywhere as she clung to him, silently sobbing.

It was then that he understood.

"I had to, you know," Athrun said faintly but still very steadily, "Or he'd have killed you. He had planned on doing it. I knew. I couldn't let him do it."

"Now," He said heavily, breathing very hard, "Say something."

He watched her struggle to form the words, frustrations suddenly coloring her face as she hit the sheets weakly with whatever strength she had left, over and over again, and his temper, usually reserved even in the most common situations when a little frustration was bound to be shown, became very apparent.

"Call my name!" He said harshly. "I want to hear it!"

She cried harder, all the signs of her feistiness non-apparent, a weak child pinned there rather than the golden tempest he had been forced to chain in case she ran off. She was not being disobedient, she simply could not obey. Now, the chain was there because this sobbing child in place of the strong-willed, stubborn woman needed it. She had no place to go. Sending her back to Orb was out of question now because she could not return without her ability to speak.

He took her head to his chest and held it there, something long dead and numb in him coming alive in its pain and slight joy as she buried it there, grasping handfuls of his shirt, tiring herself out with the heaving, soundless sobs.

"I killed him for you," Athrun muttered. "He tried to harm you and perhaps, he didn't deserve to die that way. But he tried to harm you."

And he would physically remove anybody who dared to hurt her.

He eventually laid her head back on the pillow and watched as she fell asleep, having tired herself out. And he thought of the blurred, faded times of when she had done the same, unbeknownst to the public, because the Lioness of Orb never cried or showed a sign of weakness even when her father was mentioned in the worst way possible. She had cried privately, in front of him, because she didn't know how to hide it all in when she was with him. He had watched her, comforted her, taken her into his arms the way he had only just done, laid her on the bed and watched over her while she had slept, had he not?

Seven years later, nothing had changed.

* * *

She grew to accept him slowly, in a sort of uneasy truce.

At very least, Athrun liked to think so.

He was gentle and careful with her each time he sat by and fed her- he came during the evening, most of the time, after he'd finished his work.

During this time, she was mostly listless and he could never bring much of a reaction out of her. He privately enjoyed brushing her hair although she was like a doll, dead and beautiful to look at.

The first stroke was always a careful one, as if his vertical movement would tear her scalp when all it did was sort the strands into golden streams in the path of the bristles. He would watch her carefully during the first stroke, as if she would violently protest. But she never did.

Cagalli gave no indication that he had brushed her hair- only looked into the distance at something Athrun could not quite see. Nevertheless, his voice filled the room every evening, as he told the silent form on the bed of the funny jokes Epstein had related to him that day, and mentioned how irritating work was at times.

Athrun did not force her to speak still. As long as she allowed him near her, like this-

His hand gripped the brush. The ivory was as white as his knuckles.

They still bore a few marks to where she'd bitten down hard.

He gazed at her. Her hair was fine and golden.

He ran a hand through it, cautiously, afraid to startle her.

Her eyes were closed and her lips were pink with the health that had returned to her.

He did not have any regrets for bringing her to The Isle. He could not afford any.

"Cagalli," He said in a low voice, "Turn around. I want to get at that bit."

She obeyed and he brushed slowly, prolonging it, taking his time, savoring how close she was. She did not speak. Of course, he noticed how she hummed tunelessly a little at times, under her breath, when he brushed her hair after she'd eaten- but she did not speak.

Secretly, Athrun was beside himself with a silent, indelible panic. She refused to let Miles examine her- although the doctor was quite convinced that it was a shock that would eventually wear off.

It wasn't, as he suspected, because she didn't want to. Cagalli's words were lost somewhere because she had forgotten how to speak.

He exercised her limbs by moving each arm up, then down, one at a time, the right one as far as the cuff would allow, then her feet in the same fashion. The first time he had done that, she had resisted, struggled and cried silently. But then, he had hid his hands behind his back, sat on her bed, and waited until Cagalli had calmed down. Then he had tried again, more insidious than before, and she allowed him near.

When he had completed it fully for the first time, Athrun had stroked her cheek tenderly with his fingers, not caring to look into the eyes and see only glass there, only that she was alive and he would see to it that she remained that way.

His voice was a murmuring brook. The words, she may not have heard. But the sound of his voice made her less tense each time, and he used it to lull her into a dream-like state, caressing her hand, the hand she had allowed him to take into his, sometimes even daring to stroke her face and watch the golden lashes lower on her white cheekbones.

"You are a good child."

He stroked her head uneasily. The silence was very disheartening.

"You are pure and whole and nobody will harm you."

He lifted her face to make sure she was listening. No response.

"You are a good child. Good-,"

* * *

He sent for Epstein in the meantime.

The black leather of his chair was pressing itself to his form, and he ran a hand across his forehead wearily. Epstein, in contrast, stood tall and alert, watching him, waiting for Athrun to speak.

"Get a speech therapist ready." He said finally. "I will give the signal for one to treat the Orb Princess."

"Very well." Epstein said, already finishing the last syllable of the words Athrun had only just uttered. There was that machine like efficiency that Athrun valued and often reminiscence about. Clearly, Epstein took after someone. The eyes were the same too. If they had been round and child-like in the photography Athrun had received and seen once, they were now that intriguing shade of steel and blue that once belonged to someone else.

The man paused to look at him. "Mr. Estragon, do you have a preference for any sort of therapist?"

Athrun nodded briskly. "Experience is an imperative, and I will have a speech therapist that spends years if necessary in coaxing the Orb Princess to speak. Of course, I want one who has the highest rates of effectiveness. The cost is obviously not an issue."

"Very well."

"And one more thing," Athrun said carefully. "Send for a female therapist."

Epstein took this down, but no expression flitted across his face, or any question surfaced in his eyes. He was a perfect soldier, one who carried out orders unquestioningly, perfectly, and very efficiently, although Athrun better. Epstein had been a frustrated, rash child, one without his parents or anybody to care, once. Athrun himself was very aware of this fact. Now, it was merely that the thoughts were not reflected across Epstein Cleamont's face. Athrun watched him, not thinking, but suddenly sitting upright in the chair.

"The poison did not work as well as predicted," He said mildly. "He had time to barge into the Princess' room. He was only expected to collapse right outside it for us to confirm his intent."

"Timing issues, sir." Epstein said apologetically. "But at least he shot you so we could confirm the intent. And that gave us the justification to withhold the antidote, although he was a bull of a man. Managed the whole way down that hall, didn't he? But he didn't lay a hand on her, at least, not before you finished him off."

They glanced at the metal vest sitting insidiously on the chair at the side. There was a large dent where Athrun's heart would have been.

"No," Athrun said heavily. "But it was bad enough. The princess lost her speaking ability, and you know we must have that. Or the ability to write at least. Of course, the highest level of intactness would be the best. When we release her and she cannot speak, all hell would break loose."

"Hasn't it already, sir?" Epstein answered politely.

"Technically yes," He answered wryly. "The General has been accused of arranging for his impromptu promotion after his twin's mysterious disappearance in the middle of the ocean. And the Scandinavian Kingdom is a major case of screwed, if you'll excuse my language. Orb's deterrence is truly nothing to laugh at."

Epstein smiled a little. "It had never been, since the war. But then, the Orb Princess took it to a new level, didn't she?"

"Post-war paranoia, just like all the other ruling powers." Athrun muttered, with a touch of sad affection and dullness. "But then, you can never be too sure. She hasn't had any closure since the First War, really. If the Lord Uzumi had been her fortress, he was destroyed during the First War, and from then on, she had to cope as what she is today. "

Esptein shook his head. "War. I want it to disappear forever."

"I understand," Athrun said quietly, in a rare show of open gentleness for the man. "You aren't very much younger than any of us who survived the Second War- the loss you suffered is nothing to mock either."

"My mother was a Coordinator," Epstein said with a sigh. "And even then, she wasn't accepted by her own kind."

"That had nothing to do with war," Athrun objected. "Society will never truly accept a woman who carries her lover's child without the law agreeing to their union."

"But all the same," Epstein said quietly, "War took her away."

Athrun stood up, putting his hands on Epstein's shoulders, noting how young the man really was. "Do you despise me for what I'm doing to the Orb Princess?"

"No," his assistant said hesitantly, "To prevent what we despise from happening again, some sacrifices must be made."

"Ah,' Athrun said sadly. "I thought so before I met her."

Cagalli would be the sacrifice in their plans.

* * *

"You look well today," He said smilingly, although no smile graced his face. His fingers flitted here and there amongst gold, touching the ends of her hair with his fingers. "And you will look better and better as each day passes."

She stared into the mirror he had placed in her lap because he would not unchain her for her to look into the one at the vanity. But Athrun's words were ultimately true- under his care and the twins' management, Cagalli had regained so much of her color and natural freshness that her inability to speak was rather startling. He had chosen an azure gown for her today, and she wore it with a delicateness in her frame the material did well to bring out.

He wove a white flower behind her ear, tucking it securely. "Do you like this one or the red one?"

Her eyes widened, and he immediately hid those from sight. So she was not quite normal yet. Every night, he tested how far her progress was as time passed and she forgot the incident. To-night, he had tried a red flower, but she had an adverse reaction to it.

"But the white suits you better," He said swiftly, and he bent nearer to caress the petals, watching her relax visibly. "Today was a busy day. I had Epstein call in a therapist. Perhaps it is time."

She watched him with some apprehension and a strangled sound came out of throat. He watched her struggle to say something, admiring how fierce her eyes were as she probably attempted to deny needing one, but then he hushed her by pressing a finger to her lips.

"So feisty," He said tenderly. "Do you ever wear yourself out?"

She fell silent, and he bent closer, nearly touching her lips with his own, but then, he did not. Then quietly, he took the brush and stroked her hair until it positively shone and his arm was close to aching.

It continued this way, for another week. Every night, she seemed to make a little progress, although her words had been trapped somewhere. Athrun was desperate for her to regain her speech, but he did not indicate it. She was desperate for herself- the twins had informed him of the strange, muffled noises she made in an effort to say something.

But one night, she finally spoke, when he presented her with fresh, pink flowers that might have raised a dead man to a galliard.

"Red clovers." Cagalli said quietly, one word at one time. Her voice was low and sweet, louder than her quiet breathing- like listening for the rain and hearing the ocean.

The joy was blinding, and he gripped the flowers because he was afraid to grip her hand in his overwhelmed state. And Athrun's surprise showed in his voice and his face at her identification of the flowers and her sudden willingness to talk. "So you know these."

"-Rune."

He could not tell if she had tried to say his name or 'Rune'. But she was speaking and he was too overjoyed to care if she ever called him by his name again. She was smiling a little, a bit unsure, testing her newfound words again.

"Epstein told me. These are the national flowers of Denmark, are they not?"

"They are." He held them out to her, and disinterestedly, she took them with the unchained hand and performed a perfunctory observation for his sake. Then she put them aside, their distinctive scents filling the bed sheets, and their balmy pink textures like tiny spuds of clumped cotton by her pillow. They lay there secretively, as if their centers held something he was trying to tell her, something she could not yet grasp.

"You know to speak now." He said, testing the waters.

She looked at him with a shy or sly expression, either of which, he could not differentiate. "I was thinking."

"For a whole week?" Athrun said sharply. Was she planning another escape?

"Yes."

The days eased themselves by, and she began to rely more and more on him. A part of her rejoiced when the unwiring of the door's locks revealed him there, perfect and composed as he always was. He filled her room with flowers and the bright colors made her laugh and clap her hands together like a child, for she could not help it when he presented her with such simple gaieties. He would sit next to her, looking on very quietly.

He liked to watch her, Cagalli realised. He did not show obvious signs of it, but there was a certain mixture of tranquility in him she provided by smiling at him, no matter how wan it was, or how difficult it was to smile at times.

She chose not to ask him on the murder, because it was best saved until he fulfilled his side of the contract they had made. He slept a few hours, in the chair, by her side, for each night, and it was good enough. By the time he slipped off, she had fallen asleep, and the nightmares did not come.

He talked to her of simple, quaint things at times, how his day had went, how Epstein's children had came to the Manor and uprooted a few beds of flowers, much to Epstein's chagrin, and things like that-

During these times, Cagalli imagined she was with him again, back in a place where they truly belonged to, where they had known each other for as long as they had lived and would do so for the rest of eternity. It was a little less difficult to keep alive when she did that, when she watched Athrun's eyes rest themselves peacefully upon her face, and she knew that instinctively, she had never wanted to hurt him then, seven years ago, or even now.

One evening, he appeared to her again, and bent low. He neither sat, nor held a brush in his hand.

"What are you doing?" She whispered.

"Unchaining you."

This wasn't a temporary action, she suspected, for her to bathe and clean herself, or change into a fresh ensemble of clothes the twins prepared for her. The silvery metal slid off, and a hiss of relief escaped from her lips. She lay immobile; however, afraid that a sudden action would bring the tension in his face and body to a heightened direction, and that Athrun would change his mind and reinstate her to captivity of another kind.

But her fears were mostly unfounded-he brought her to her feet and inspected her.

She stood still, impatiently, allowing him to take each wrist in each hand, letting him see if the cuffs had hurt more than the surface skin.

When he was satisfied, he led her to another section of her room. He took her hand gently, afraid to give her pain when she had already undergone so much of it.

Her hand was small in his, cold and curled. But his was wrapped over hers, warm and reassuring, and she put it into his with a trust that surprised even her. He was no longer the cold-blooded killer. He was her benefactor, a sort of shield, and Cagalli wondered why the turmoil within her existed as it did.

Would Athrun Zala have killed as easily as that?

"_He has no more need for you."_

But he was settling the contract they'd made, wasn't he? If not need for her obedience then what?

"The contract stands." He said evenly. "And you will give me what you offered in exchange."

She nodded, biting her lip.

Her hand was in his. She had allowed him to take it and hold it thus.

'I've been here for more than a month,' She thought vaguely, 'And I still don't know anything about The Isle or if this man is really Athrun Zala.'

A faint memory tugged at her. She looked down, apprehensively at the carpet. But it was no longer the rich maroon that easily consumed the spilt blood. It had long been changed- a pretty, pure turquoise color, a color that disguised what had been lost and the killing Athrun had done for her sake.

"But first before we settle the deal," Athrun said suddenly, "I want you to tell me what transpired seven years ago, in order for me to leave Orb."

* * *

_ 4 months. 29 days_


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

_There were shadows in the cellar. Two of those, like black, nearly transparent nylon stockings, elongated and stretched, never quite fixed in their shapes. Or one of those. It was difficult to tell with how the shapes were, mingling, separating for a split second and for a tiny fraction of distance before they entwined together with the light once more._

"_And I'll tell you a secret. Are you listening to me?"_

_He ignored her. He was closing his eyes, smiling, enjoying her presence, knowing that he was as real as she was. They were breathless from the shock of falling and gripping to each other, she to stop herself from falling, he to stop her from falling. She was relentless, crawling closer to him as he tried to sit up, his back throbbing from the absorbed shock, her voice stubborn and her hair shorter than before, almost as short as a boy's because she had tied it up into a rough ponytail and from where he was, her fringe and thick sideburns looked like a boy's hair._

"_Say, did you know that I always wanted to-"_

_A seventeen-year old Cagalli was on fours, peering up at him and frowning._

_He could not stop laughing. She was shaking him by the shoulders, insisting that he look at her, but when he did, her petulant expression made him sore with his own laughing. His hands were already clutching his stomach. The bruise on her arm was clear- and yet, her clumsiness seemed to rain off her easily like droplets of water from the duck's clean white back. They sat up, in a tanglement of limbs, and he unbuttoned the first three points of his jacket to breathe with more ease. The cellar was dusty, and he sneezed once. Kisaka would have to wait for his drink._

_She looked perturbed. "You don't want to hear it?"_

_He nodded. "No, no, tell me what it is that you wanted to say."_

_She laughed as well, finally giving in to him. "I said, I always wondered how quick your instinct really was. You caught my fall in, I don't know, three seconds? Amaz-"_

"_No. The part after that. The secret."_

"_I wanted you as my bodyguard because I didn't really want one and-"_

_He was scarcely listening, only laughing. He had never been more alive, more hopeful, more confused, and more decisive in what he needed to be a real and whole. He suddenly stopped and so did she. There was a light stain across her cheek, and he should have goaded her on it, the way he usually did._

_Instead, he reached to her cheek, silently, and pulled her to him, and she was kissing him fiercely, his hands drawing her to him, finding her back and her head as he loosed the band from her hair and the gold fell in waves. Her arms found their way around his neck and they sat against the stairs she had tripped down, pulling him down with her while he had tried to break her fall._

_­­­­­­­­­­_

* * *

They sat at the circumference of table in her room, she drinking her tea tersely, afraid to think of the significance of what she was bound to do for exchange of what he was about to tell her, and he, quietly looking at her, measuring her insecurity as she held her cup with a slightly tremulous hand.

The cream he did not take, and the sugar she put only a little. The tea was meant to be bitter. The memories and silence were thick enough as a substitute.

"Athrun," She said quietly, desperately, "I don't know anything.

But he did.

He knew and remembered the despondency in his body, the way he had put hope to rest by uprooting the last of everything, leaving a place she could not escape, and therefore did not want him to be in. And he had come here. Seven years had been easy enough, discounting the agony of the first two. The others were seamless passages of time.

Now, she was sitting in front of him, eyes scared but her mouth still defiant with the full lips pursed in distrust. He did not blame her for instinct. He only blamed her for revoking his ability to keep his emotions to himself, as she had so easily done before in the past.

Only someone like Cagalli would have plotted an escape with such headstrong determination that made him both admire her and exasperated all at once. And above all, she had faced confinement where the view of the sky was both a rarity and a symbol of the stolen freedom. Any ordinary person would have shrunk in the foreign surroundings and obeyed with no question.

But not Cagalli- she must have somehow realized that he would not kill her yet, and was defiant, disobedient and extreme in her response to free herself, and this was just as extreme as the level of intrigue, the measures to maintain the secrecy, like everything here.

And that was why he was attracted to her; he wanted her, it was obvious to him now.

But agreeing to tell her information- that had been unthinkable. Either that, or for a minute of insanity, he had imagined that earning her physically would bring her back to him when these seven years were shouting their protests in the more rational part of him.

All this time, it had been a testimony of his determination to erase her from his mind as completely as he could manage. And he had ruined it all by agreeing to do this, now; he was compounding everything by admitting to himself that the woman in his grasp was not his yet. And damn it, he wanted her. He had dreamt of her time and again, and heard, not apologies from her, but the truth. And the truth would break him again, perhaps her even.

"You do," Athrun answered genially. There was a trace of irony in his face.

There was a slight tremble he observed in her fingers as she lifted her cup in her hands.

Why was she afraid of him?

Simple, really. Last week's unprecendented event had thrown her into a speechless state, and Athrun did not blame or think of her as weak for that. That man had died in a violent and diseased manner, in her lap. It was quite one thing to go through war, shooting down ships and people whose expressions one did not see, almost like an electronics game of sorts, and quite another thing to watch a man die the way she had. He had seen plenty of it- the first time; he had reacted in a similar manner. But this was her first time.

Or more accurately, her first time seeing such a death after seven years.

The poison had been used by Epstein, without Athrun's knowledge. And the poison had been the rarest of lethal ones, made from a mixture of dried plants and such, but mainly Belladonna. Athrun himself was not sure of what it was, but he knew the name of it, at very least, and its effects.

He would.

Perhaps Cagalli had uneasily come to the conclusion that he had backed out of the deal in the aftermath of the killing. But he had come today, the whirring of the door's mechanisms announcing his entry and the slipping on of his white gloves on the pale, slim hands the only indication of what would have been something normal in this situation where normality was limited.

The gloves were like a second skin on his hands, like liquid pearl as a milky sheen on his hands. She wondered why there was an uprising of feelings in her, as if she was close to knowing, understanding something but didn't know what it was. Those hands had been stained with blood, but they were white now.

The fingers tapped the table a few times, but he made no effort to speak. She would have to first.

"It's not fair!" She suddenly burst out. "Our agreement stands thus, as we arranged before this. How can you ask for the information pertaining to what happened seven years ago?"

Athrun placed a hand on the table, as insidiously as he might have slammed the same fist down on the table if he had been any less potent a master of his will and body. "I have a right to know."

"There's nothing to know." Cagalli said forcefully. "There's nothing to it. You managed to come into Orb when you were not absolved of your war crimes in the Second war, and all I did was official. I told you to go away, before you were linked any more to the murder. You weren't proved guilty of murder, but neither were you absolved."

It was all Athrun could do to keep his palm outstretched on the table, rather than clench it into a fist. "Circumstantial evidence will never put anyone to the death sentence, will it? Especially if it was forged evidence in the first place?"

Her mouth trembled. "You murdered a man while in Orb. The next elected president was murdered by you."

"They managed to establish a motive, didn't they?" Athrun mused. "A political plot to avenge the despot father. All because my fingerprints were _not _found on the Nicholas Renault's last form of indulgence, all because they claimed I wore gloves in a planned killing. He was served poison a month after the war, the day he had sat in the courthouse to declare an entire group of people guilty of war crimes. The very day I had been present in Orb, in that very courthouse."

"You had access to belladonna poison," Cagalli hissed. "From Dullindal's own private reserves, no? He was declared an addict after his death- his subordinates testified to seeing dilated eyes and sometimes, his hallucinatory state, the madness that killed him in the end. And you were one of his subordinates once."

She glowered at him, balling her fists under the table.

"And of course they couldn't find any on you. A drop would have been enough to kill in a concentrated amount. And you knew that."

He smiled coldly. "Lies. What's this about your morality? I was framed. A badly executed, rather botched attempt towards the end, but an effective one nevertheless. "

Livid, she sprang up from her chair, darting to the far corner of the room. "I don't want to talk about it!"

He stirred his tea with the fine-handled spoon, lifting his eyes to hers, surveying her and testing how far she would stretch before she broke. The tea was deliberately placed there.

His gloves created little friction on the contact point, and he noted that it was soon that Cagalli would understand. She was not a stupid girl. If she had not gained realization, then at least, she had gotten suspicious. He looked at her imperceptibly.

"You must. Did you underestimate justice? Did you, for any minute, think that the Seirans had enough cunning to create the perfect set-up? They forgot that while I was rightfully associated to a man I'd known from my childhood, a man who conveniently, betrayed my father during the Genesis and then assumed a new identity in Orb, I had no dealings with my dead father, or the need for revenge."

The newspaper clippings he kept came to his mind. The headlines haunted him at night, at times, after he'd actually killed somebody. But for her to have allowed him to be framed, no, aided the framing-

Her mouth twisted. "No! There's nothing to it! The only time when I saw you face to face, I told you that you ought not to be in Orb. What do you expect to hear from me?"

"The truth."

"Ridiculous!" She spat. "You want the truth in exchange for nothing?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"Then why are we even having this agreement?" Cagalli questioned vehemently. "You refused to tell me unless I traded something for it, and only then was headway made. Why the double standard?"

The distance between them was immense and significant. But he continued to look ahead, as if she had been sitting there all along, rather than standing stiffly in the far corner of the huge room.

"Shall I force it from you?"

A terror gripped her as she remembered the long sword he had wielded. Since when had Athrun wielded a sword and not a knife? But it had served him well- the man who had come into her room had had more than his back stabbed- the blade had ran through the entire length of his body. All the same, she found courage to answer with a scorn that bit into her words.

"And what are you going to threaten me with?" She mocked. "Will you kill me like you did with Renault and that man? Will you have me drink the poison of Belladonna?"

The man in front of her could not be Athrun, she told herself stubbornly. No. Athrun was gentle, not harmless, no; that would be idealizing him. But this man- he was a monster and she would never sully Athrun's memory with what he was presenting to her.

"I'm not afraid to die." Cagalli said angrily. It would not hurt to die at this monster's hands- if he had been Athrun, that would have been a different case, but he certainly wasn't, and she would never believe it, this man was not Athrun, this man was not Athrun, this man-

"I never said I would kill you." He said comfortably. And this was true for Athrun. Destroying something he wanted was not even considered- it was simply out of the question.

But at the same time, anger rose in her. Why could he not deny that he had killed Nicholas Renault seven years ago and the man that had somehow brought himself into her room? If he did, at least her motives would be justified, she would forgive him for being a liar, believe in the lie she had helped fabricate. Believing blindly would be more suited for someone as pathetic as her, rather than have him Rune Estragon and not Athrun Zala.

"Seven years ago," She said hoarsely, "You went to Orb, a week after the war had ended. I do not know why, nor do I want to know why."

"I told you already," Athrun said harshly. "I went back to find-,"

"No," She said firmly, stubbornly, not letting him continue. "You came back even while your alleged war crimes had not been absolved. By an international decree, it meant that you could stay for only two weeks and no more unless your crimes were absolved."

"And in those two weeks, you avoided me almost perfectly." He said softly.

She chose to ignore this. "But when it was finally time to leave, you were accused of another misdeed, and a heinous one in the sight of law and anything that has a heart."

Athrun's eyes were like daggers at her face. "You ignore the facts. By the end of the two weeks, the crimes had been absolved in Plant. I would have stayed in Orb without the decree having any relevance to me."

She forced a laugh of triumph. "But you didn't take the absolving of your war crimes as a blessing! While still in Orb, you went and had your father's old enemy killed, after tracing who the man really was from the database of Plant! The man had left Plant and assumed a new identity as a Natural, in spite of being a Coordinator, and then joined Orb's politics. But you couldn't forgive him for deserting your father's Genesis plan when it was to be launched, could you?"

He laughed shortly, imitating her. "I knew who Renault was from the day I saw him in Orb. He wasn't my father's trusted friend and confidante for nothing, even if he had testified against my father at the end of the First War. If I had wanted to exact revenge, why wait until the Second War had passed? And that collapsed the case against me, didn't it?"

"Only because you were fortunate enough to hire the top lawyers," Cagalli said swiftly. "You were wearing gloves that day, the Seirans testified to having seen you wearing a pair of white gloves and thinking it strange. Naturally, the cup he used had no sign of your fingerprints, or anybody else's for that matter. And half an hour after you left the courthouse when the hearing had finished, after meeting with Renault very briefly for him to congratulate you on being absolved, Renault collapsed with dilated eyes and black blood pouring from his mouth and lungs."

Her eyes traveled to his hands, where they were in their satin-like sheaths.

"Even now. You wear gloves to remove any trace of your presence."

Athrun shrugged. "I do things for a reason."

It was just as well then; that her hand wrestled up from where it had been, wrenched tight in her lap, and then spread across, hiding part of her face. She could not forget the second man who had died by such a poisoning.

"Do you deny the murder?" She said blindly, somehow hoping that he would.

He shook his head. "Think what you will. Only let me hear the truth."

"Of course, they put you on trial, as you deserved." Cagalli said in a rush. "And Lady Seiran testified to having seen you slip something into the tea that was eventually served to Renault before leaving."

"Of course, she could not explain why she didn't stop me, even if she was perfectly sure of what time I had done it."

"She clarified that at that point, she imagined it was mere fancy of thought."

Athrun smiled dangerously. "And therefore, I was put on trial, almost found guilty. Then when the reasonable doubt persisted,I was declared not guilty, but neither was I entirely absolved either. Therefore, I was asked to leave Orb. But tell me your involvement in this."

"Involvement?" She said, dry-mouthed. She did not dare stand up to increase the distance between them for fear of admitting her own guilt. She had buried it for seven years- he was goading her, forcing her to be provoked. "I was a witness to his death. Nothing more."

And she had watched as Renault had died, the way she had gone to meet him with her bodyguards and the press, and how he had bent forward and how the blood had poured on the table between them, the way he had stumbled up to grip her by the shoulders to tell her something and died in her lap. The way the other man had died a week ago, poisoned in the same way.

"And after that?" He said pleasantly. "How did you liaise with the Seirans while I was being detained?"

The physical distance between them did nothing to discourage the feeling that he was standing right in front of her, his eyes boring as intensively as they were over the rim of his teacup.

Her voice faltered only somewhat. "I have no involvement in the event of seven years ago. You cannot do anything to me."

"So many things," He said to himself, and her, desperate to hear the truth, forced from her or otherwise. "So many things I could do. You say those will not break you, but I could try."

She stood up then, unable to bear it any longer, either bravely or foolhardily. "And if you do, you will see that I hold fast to my words. The foulest things cannot break me, I can live or die a Prince, both if you wish."

"You are a child," He said, standing up as well, making her back against something that jutted into her, hypnotizing her with his eyes and taking one step forward, and another, and another while she found herself rooted to where she stood. "Have you realized your potential influence on the world?"

And in that instant, she lost her last reserves of self-control.

She dashed forward, her hands unrooting from where they had been planted on the desk, not managing in striking him across his face because he caught her hand with his and threw her to the floor, flipping her neatly on her back. She screamed once, in terror and helplessness, but he watched her with no clear emotion, and still gripping her hands, forced them to the ground, on either side of her head.

"Did you think I would not know?" He said clearly, pleasantly, almost as if she would have jumped at his offer. "Did you hope for me to remain as you wanted me to be, in the dark just for your own selfish reasons?"

"Do you want to try the same threat on me?" She said, white-faced but very proud and dead-set on keeping mum.

"No," He admitted readily, "I'd rather not take you that way- too much force breaks beautiful things. It would be a pity."

Their faces were close now, and she did not know what to say to this, but a thrill, unwelcome but still sufficiently strong, ran up her spine.

"I will have Laplacia's arm broken, perhaps," He said agreeably. "Cartesia can watch. Of course, you will as well, while she begs for mercy. But I will stop once you agree to give the truth to me."

Her eyes darkened with tears and hatred. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want the truth," Athrun stated coldly. "As simple as that. I never thought I would have it, I never though I would want it after all these seven years, but you are Cagalli Yula Atha and you are before me with the information I lack. You can either give it to me or have me force it out of you. The choice is yours."

He took her chin in his hand, the palm a base that supported her face as he lifted it to his, turning it so she would look in his eyes. There was only emptiness in it. Athrun Zala wanted to know. He had found her after seven years, come back for her to obtain the information she had.

She bit her lips and wanted to rip something into two. But she had no alternative. He would do it, she knew that.

"When I heard news of your return," She said in a low voice, "I had Kisaka refute the citizenship you were to obtain on the basis of your war crimes that had not yet been absolved."

"But you could not fight the law stating that war criminals, under certain circumstances, were to be immediately absolved of their crimes if their crimes fell under a certain section, which mine did, as it was proved on the last day of my conditional approval to stay in Orb." Athrun said simply, "And that made me free to stay for more than two weeks, at least. And yet, on that very day, when I could have made that decision, I was accused of another crime, and this time, a planned murder of an individual."

"Wasn't it obvious Athrun?" She cried angrily. "You weren't supposed to go back to Orb! You were supposed to come back from the war and move on with life, get a fresh start with the right girl and forget your past. It was the last thing I tried to complete for you- and you had to ruin it all by going back there! What else did you want?"

"I wanted you." He said quietly, breathing very hard, watching her tirade, the turmoil becoming stronger and darker in her face. "I came back for you."

"I told you already," She said, visibly upset, the things she had promised to take to the grave now lying open in front of the very person she had hidden them from, "I lost the feelings we might have had once. You must have as well."

"Presumptuous," He said bitingly. "Hypocrisy. I had nothing to do with Renault's demise or the Seirans, for that matter, lest I stain my hands with the filth they innately carried. I did not murder Renault, or poison him, for that matter."

Inwardly, she believed he was lying, even after seven years. But she was glad for it. By denying it, vehemently, with the lack of conclusive evidence for the poisoning, Athrun Zala was a free man. He had been on seven years ago, and he was ultimately one even now, as long as she never admitted it.

If he had been found guilty then, there would have been the gallows and only despair for her. But when he had been declared not guilty, she had been stricken with maddening panic. He would stay. He could not stay. He would eventually be found out, and she would die when he did.

So she'd made a pact with the devil seven years ago, one gigantic, consummated lie that she was living even now. The consciousness of this might have been removed with all the years that had passed, but he was a reminder of it, the exact reason, undeniable and searing, why she could not bring herself to remain here on The Isle where he was.

Unato Seiran and his wife had been livid at their son's capture and subsequent death, and before they had been forced to abdicate in favor of Cagalli Yula Atha even after the Second War had seen her reclaiming Orb. Moreover, once they'd realized that their stronghold had been single-handedly crumbled by their son's foolishness and he'd died, leaving them no excuse or person to blame for their negligence with Orb, they'd sought their revenge against her. But harming Cagalli Yula Atha would be even more foolish with her new establishment of power in Orb, and there was no law for bringing charges against a person who had not caused Yuna Roma Seiran's actual death.

Thus, they had clawed their way to the Courthouse that day, desperate to blame somebody, willing to pursue even the pilot of the GOUF that had unknowingly trampled on the foolish Yuna who had been too dazed to move out of the way. Their son's death had maddened them, and the loss of their societal denominations and their political positions with a collapsing façade of wealth and glamour had driven them to find someone to press charges against. And it had a monumental day in Orb's history, in that very courthouse; Renault, the to-be-President, had declared himself a full Coordinator under the alias of a Natural. The Seirans had been appalled. And with as much logic as madmen could have achieved, they had held a grudge against Renault. But that had been months after the Second War- and who had been, by some coincidence, there at that time, at the very same Courthouse?

All this, Athrun was aware of. Seven years had not been spent in vain. But Cagalli did not know.

"They convinced you to create a motive for my supposed murdering of Renault," Athrun recounted plainly. "Then got into an accident and were buried in the sea their car drove into."

"I had nothing to do with the Seirans," Cagalli said sharply. "They were merely unlucky for getting into an accident."

"I have more power than you realize," Athrun said tersely. "A little string-pulling told me they had died of belladonna poisoning as well. The accident was a natural one in that madmen, if given a steering wheel, will probably drive themselves to death. But it was a suicide on their part, in taking the poison minutes before driving off a highway into the sea. And where do you think they had obtained such a rare poison in their case? Especially when it was banned in Orb? I had been gone by then. No hope of accusing me, was there?"

Cagalli's eyes widened. "Impossible!"

"Come now," Athrun said impatiently, "A pretence cannot be held up for more than a while. Yours has collapsed. They were the one who had access to the poison- they must have used it on Renault themselves, upon realizing that he had been a Coordinator and not a Natural, in light of their inherently anti-Coordinator standpoints. I had nothing to do with it, but you helped them in the set-up, didn't you? You must have realized that creating a motive for me to murder Renault would make it an imperative for me to leave Orb."

She was not listening anymore. There was an ocean in her ears and she was vaguely aware of her sinking to the floor, faint and somehow alive again in that dialectic position.

The memories were straining at their edges of restraint, and her mind was somewhere else. Athrun was innocent- had been innocent then. And the Seirans had done a terrible thing to frame him, and she, mostly unwittingly, their accomplice. She covered her face, breathing in hyperventilated gasps and her eyes wide and something that suggested only partial rationality.

He knelt as well, in a strange reminder of something that had once been, once when they had taken a tumble somewhere and he had shielded her with his body, and she had lifted him to his feet, only now that he was not doing so but cupping her face in his hands.

She did not open her eyes, too filled with shame to look at him. But the tears flowed anyway.

"Why do you cry?" He said ungently.

"Relief," She muttered. Unhappily, and a bit too forcefully, she swiped at the tears with a trembling, unforgiving hand.

"Open your eyes," His voice instructed in her self-imposed darkness. A bit too rashly, she did, and the eyes focused on him. He was looking at her with an imperceptible expression on his face, and she could hear him breathe, as he could hear hers.

"Why did you agree to establish a motive and testify against me?" He said clearly.

"I knew that the circumstantial evidence was insufficient to have you sentenced to death," She said quietly. "But if you stayed, you would be found out sooner or later. So I used the decree that stated that if you were accused of more than the pre-existing crimes, you would have to leave Orb. Article four of Section twelve."

The pieces were falling in- one by one. He had been made to leave because of that clause, but she had made him leave because she had believed he would be sentenced to death if he stayed any longer.

He had sent a letter a week before he had been tried in court, before Renault's murder had taken place.

"_I've come back to settle the past."_

In her panic when she had heard of the accusation of murder, it had seemed correct to fit it in with the established motive she had then testified to in court- that in the first week of arriving in Orb, Athrun Zala had found out who Renault really was and therefore killed him for the sake of his father's revenge.

Naturally, she had testified against him, thereby making him leave because if Athrun had somehow stayed in Orb, then as she had believed him of being guilty, he would certainly have died when she could not do anything about it. More than that- his staying meant that she would have to come to terms with him and herself. And she had not been willing to do that.

"Did you think I was guilty?" He said quietly.

She faltered, and then nodded. "I couldn't let you die in Orb, could I?"

He didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh or take her into his arms and kiss her until she was unable to act rashly or distrust him ever again. "You know the truth."

"I didn't then." She answered honestly. "I couldn't trust you. I swore to myself that nobody but the three parties involved would ever know of my involvement- and my testifying was done in secret so you would never know. Are you pleased now?"

He shook his head. "I suspected it. But I managed to see you still, before I left Orb."

A wry smile graced his lips as they recalled the way he had stole into the governmental premises and found her.

During those days, he had become almost a fugitive, and the headlines had blared without any discretion or any need for ethical writing, that he had murdered Renault. So it had been written off, along with the Seiran couple's testimonies, and Cagalli Yula Atha's word, that Athrun had more than returned to the court in Orb for a hearing. He had gone back for revenge on a man who had betrayed his father before the First war had come to a close. And Cagalli's then-betrayal had been everything.

He had left for good after that- wiped away everything she remembered about Athrun and became a person she identified as her captor now. He had only just emptied her of the lie she had kept within herself for so long, broken through the barriers she'd set up around herself and he almost regretted it now, looking at her wan, white face. But he had wanted the truth; he had forced it from her.

There were two choices. He could forget her or gain her. Seven years had not given him a solution. He would do the second.

It had been a situation where choice was available for both of them. He had thought only of keeping her alive and he might have offered anything in exchange for her willingness to live. But Cagalli wanted information and that much, he could not offer.

Now, he lifted her to her feet and guided her to where she had been, forcing her to sit. There was a resuming of supposed normality, and it disconcerted both of them.

Of course, Cagalli had not known how much to offer for a small candle, in her desperation to not remain entirely in the dark, no matter how trivial the light offered was. And thus, she had offered more than the required for the candle; she had offered something even he could not refuse.

If he had thought only of keeping her alive, she had unconsciously given him a passage to the thoughts that perhaps, just perhaps, he could have something of her. She had not known how close he was to giving into her please, how close he was to telling her what she needed for her to stop hurting herself.

For now, however, he had the upper hand. He had the information, whether she needed it or not, and the fact was that she needed it.

He cursed under his breath. He had, in one moment of marked insanity and reckless impulse, agreed to give her information. But it did not matter. He would tell long truths.

There was nothing wrong in that. Guilt would come hours later. And he would crawl into a bed and forget its hold on him. One more cut to the wound was nothing.

Cagalli sat opposite him, twisting her napkin in her hands now. What was he thinking? She never knew. The time he had spent trying to help her regain her sense of security, the moments when he had slowly, methodically brushed her hair, healing her with the gentleness in his words, all that seemed faraway now. She had sat through it all, in a daze, not knowing if he was Athrun or not. Even now, she didn't know.

But this man held the key to the door. She needed the key, no matter what.

Because it was becoming clear that every day would she her becoming more dependent on the man before her, whether he was Athrun Zala or somebody else. She had to escape and return to her world before it grew beyond her control. Did he understand this? Perhaps. He had asked for something that would be a zugzwang for her- in trying to escape him, she risked growing emotionally attached to him. But Cagalli knew this might have been a case of paranoia. It was one kiss. That was all.

"Now that I have the truth," Athrun said morosely, "You can ask me what you wanted to know."

"I didn't expect you to remember the agreement." Cagalli managed eventually. She was careful in conversation- Athrun was nobody's fool.

The days before this one had been proof of how much she had underestimated him. Had he found the unfortunate piece of paper by accident, then same piece she had carelessly left behind, and thus sparked off the chain of events? No. Athrun had probably arranged for her to be supervised by his assistant under the pretext of fulfilling the very request she had made, and searched her room in the meantime.

And Cagalli found that she could not blame him. After all, it was quite obvious that she neither wanted to follow his instructions nor remain a prisoner on The Isle.

But then, Cagalli thought desperately, he had never been an enemy before, he had been a valuable ally who the others feared. And now, she feared him. But was he an enemy? No- not quite yet. The ambiguity was strong and the ambivalence maddening. Her thoughts filled her entirely and she was nearly oblivious until he spoke.

"You were the one who offered a deal," Athrun said quietly. "Will you not carry it through now?"

She bit her lip, but shook her head. "No. I must know. And I cannot go back on my word, can I?"

A ghost of a smile touched his face, although she was surprised to see no contempt in it. It was almost as if he was reminiscing about something. But Cagalli had no heart to interpret the minimal signs of emotion that Athrun was prone to displaying. Anxiousness nagged at her, and she found herself wondering if this was another trap.

"First," Cagalli said nervously, "Tell me who the man was."

He shook his head. "A traitor. He was as good as dead by the time he came into your room."

"Why?" She said in disbelief. "You stabbed him, ran your sword through him and then shot him three times!"

Athrun shook his head. "It was better that way. He would have killed you if I didn't finish him off."

"Finish him off?" Cagalli breathed. "What do you mean?"

"Black blood." Athrun said morosely. "He was already poisoned. Trust him to think ahead."

"You poisoned him, didn't you?" She asked, quivering. "Poisoned, then shot and stabbed. Were you always this thorough?"

He was silent. "I shot and stabbed him, yes. But only to prevent him from killing you."

Distracted by this, Cagalli looked like a hollow doll for a second, her eyes with no light, her mouth opened only slightly, and her hands limp in her lap. However, she shook herself awake. There were ore pressing issues at hand.

She sat straight. "Who lives on The Isle?

He looked at her with sobriety in his expression. "The Isle is the home of people who want to escape the political conflict in Denmark, or those who have found their home-islands beds of unrest and chaos. They are all refugees of sorts."

"So this isn't the home of the terrorists?"

"No."

"Do those even exist?"

"Yes. They were responsible for the chain of cold-blooded murders of children in Sweden's schools."

They both knew what he was talking about. For a week, the newspapers had showed the victimed schoolhouses, blown to smithereens and wrecks of concrete shells, but nothing as horrifying as knowing that there were no children to sit and chirp merrily at their desks, and that the morgues were working overtime. That had been a scandal even the Heads of Scandinavia in Sweden could not keep from the rest of the world.

And that was the Denmark terrorists' aim- to ensure world attention to the Scandinavian region so Denmark would be released from its slave position and made entirely independent. Perhaps the end was a fair one, Cagalli thought despondently, because the Danish would be free to decide their own political system and ensure their interest were prioritized by their own government rather than figureheads Sweden had placed there, but the means were surely not the fairest.

Even now, Cagalli was not sure if she had been embroiled in this the minute she had stepped into the Scandinavian region. The possibility of Athrun working for the terrorists was nearly non-existent, even with the remorseless steel she sometimes saw in his eyes. His capture of her had placed doubt in Cagalli, but she sensed the gentleness and honor in some other part of him. He would surely not stoop as low as to be part of a syndicate that blew up hundreds of children, even if he might have, for some bizarre reason, shared the same aims as the terrorists.

She considered all this, and looked directly at him. "Was the man who tried to kill me a terrorist that the world has been taking notice of recently?"

"No." He said after a pause. "And I cannot disclose any more information other than to tell you that I will never allow such a thing to happen again."

"He said you had no more need for me," Cagalli argued. "I could be killed and it would make no difference."

Athrun looked at her coldly. "You would believe the words of a madman and the lying Seirans rather than my actions."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I will say this, and it is true." He said stormily. "I will neither allow anyone or you to harm yourself. I need you alive and unharmed."

She gazed at him, able to look at his eyes, because they were staring at something away from the table, away from her eyes. Was he lying? She could not strike out this possibility, but then she could see no motive in lying, especially when lying about needing her would contradict the time and effort he had spent on her for the past week.

"And these people who are here on The Isle- are they leading secret lives away from what they previously knew?""

Athrun nodded, not surprised by her keen instincts. "As you have suspected, yes. That is why everybody on The Isle has a different name from what they were born with."

Her eyes did not leave his face. "But you have more than one alias, don't you?"

He did not tear his gaze from hers, and smiled softly. "It was obvious, wasn't it?"

The air was dry and crackly. But at least she would have some answers finally. Did they expect her to stay behind in this godforsaken island and let them tell her what to do? That was as possible as her becoming engaged to Aaron in a positive stroke of heterosexuality. Cagalli shrugged.

"Not difficult," She said tensely, "Even your household has more than one alias apart from the name they assumed once they came to The Isle. The twins' aliases are clearly named after the philosophical demons of Laplace and Descarte. Miles Summon and June Requiem- far too poetic to be realistic in context This means they go by a name which does not matter even if I realize is fake. And your name- I read that book once. Waiting for Godot, was it?"

His eyes bore holes in her face. "Waiting."

The ambiguity festered in the air for a second, but he had continued in the passing of the next.

That is correct. But if it makes a difference, that alias is the one I go by here in The Isle. I don't lie in that respect."

Cagalli looked away now. "You might lie in the others."

He shrugged this time. "Believe what you will."

"Then tell me," She said impetuously, "Why did you bring me here?"

He frowned. "You should know better than to attempt little things like that. I will trade only information about this Isle, not cater to ever whim of a question you forward in my direction."

She exploded. "Whim of a question? In case you haven't realized, Estragon, you were the one who bloody brought me here! Do you expect me to be a sort of wretched little pet? All this while I maintain enough sanity to know that they will have your head if they track you down? And why must I come here? If you needed anything from me, you should have appeared about seven years ago and asked in the first place!"

He looked silently at her, as if observing more than what he saw, the memories mingled with the motion of her gesturing hands, her biting eyes and her the snap in her voice. Then fluidly, he got up, as if straightening himself and preparing to leave, and she faltered immediately. Damn him.

"No," Cagalli said hastily, more hastily than she should have allowed, "We haven't finished."

He did not seem to enjoy his trump, only sat down as nondescriptly as before but with that powerful aura of cold charisma and ability to forgo words with the depth of the quiet eyes in his face, always watching her. "Ask the right questions, and the answers will come."

She drew in a deep breath. "Tell me about this house now. Where does it face? And why have I not seen a single window since the beginning of my stay here?"

"All tied up in one," Athrun said, some irony gracing his lips, "If you knew which direction or which sea the house faced, then all you would need was to contact someone to come here. And The Isle would be soon exposed."

"But I can't contact anyone," She argued pointedly, "You won't let me!"

"True," He said thoughtfully, "But I won't underestimate you again. Even your regaining of speech- you did that all by yourself, without Miles or a therapist I was beginning to think necessary. And you threatened to kill yourself to get this deal. Certainly, this is not expected of a simple-minded woman. You are not one, as far as you and I can see."

She hurried into the next question. "So what are the surroundings of this place like?"

"It is basically a large island," Athrun answered simply, "Surrounded by much of water and nothing else. Without having me to breathe a word, you would have understood how you arrived here."

"But I couldn't have been brought on a boat!" Cagalli said confusedly, "Because the Sweden Navy troops aboard that night would have spotted the boat, if there was any, and made their rounds to ensure no threat at all!"

He smiled indulgently. "True. Of course, you assume, and quite wrongly as well, that the Navy was functional on the night when I took you here. They were pliable only eight hours later, and we can rightly presume that any getaway, not just ours, would have been successful by then. But no, a boat or ship was not used. It would have been too easy to shoot down."

A shadowy shape lurked in her mind, something in her mind's eye as she struggled to retrieve the dregs of an event she would not have expected except that she was living its circumstances. He had carried her aboard something as she lay quite still, moaning quietly, he had taken a few steps across a sort of landing, took away one hand from her to hold a hatchet-

And she gasped. "A submarine!"

He nodded. "It was more efficient. Nobody could track you that way. And obviously, nobody would come after you, which was unlikely with the mayhem that yacht was embroiled in at that minute and for hours later."

She remained speechless.

Had someone arranged this? The shooting sounds, the disturbing and implied effects of the brutal bullets piercing air and their noses kissing flesh, embedded in hearts- it was no simple feat getting aboard with weapons, and no simple feat tackling the numerous guards and guests simultaneously. And the entire fleet of Swedish security ships! It had to be thoroughly planned and executed by someone.

Athrun was quietly tasting his tea.

Bile rose in her throat, and a hand flew to her mouth. Her breathing was shallow and badly spaced.

"To speed things up," Athrun said gently, "A submarine was used- so you can infer the depth of the isle now. It will not hurt to inform you of where this house is located on The Isle, because you will never leave it until there is an obvious need for you to. This house has one side facing the open sea, although it is not quite on the cliff since the slope is very gradual. There is a beach, however, at the aforementioned front. The other exits will lead to the core of The Isle, a passageway that is a cellar leading to the market place the natives congregate in on market days. Is that all you wanted to know?"

So there was only one route which would not serve her well. The sea was not something she was familiar with here, and it would be a safer option to find an exit leading to the passageway of the mainland he had described. She would then find somewhere to hide while fooling them into thinking that she had gone to the sea instead. Yes, that would do.

Now, Cagalli shook her head, still trying to retain all their information he had suddenly revealed so easily in the face of completing his side of the bargain. "No. I still want to know why there are refugees as the main residents here. Unless you lied to me about the terrorists hiding here like the newspapers claim they are doing."

"The newspapers aren't accurate." Athrun said flippantly, "But then Sweden will never allow news of the assassination of their last hope in the Imperial family to become sensationalized news. The premise is enough for any gossip stand, all that was found of that royal was one hand, wasn't it?"

She nodded tensely.

"And with that reluctance to admit that there are terrorists who have harmed the Scandinavian heads, that forces a code of invisibility to the terrorists who want themselves to be made known so that worldwide attention will be given to Denmark. And this impedes their purpose, obviously. Denmark has never belonged to Sweden other than the historical linkages that plague its past, but they have no say in their political system or the way they rule their own land. But again." He paused, "This doesn't affect me in a significant manner. I'm here to live a life away from Athrun Zala's name."

He had confirmed her suspicions about him not being part of the terrorists. But she focused on the present. In this time, Cagalli had made up her mind. There could be no doubt now. The ache in her was too familiar, too all-encompassing. There was only one cause of the pain, and if all he had said did not convince her, then the pain did. Her instincts were never wrong.

"I insist on addressing you as Athrun." She said stubbornly, glaring at him, "Because you can't be anybody except him."

Physically, it was true. The same midnight hair and forest eyes, alabaster complexion and sharp features. But her words were foolish the minute they left her mouth. He had an ambiguity she had never noticed in him before, and an erosion of the gentleness that had seem so characteristic of him. But there was an ache in her, and it was the ache of holding, being burdened with the knowledge that she was truly seeing Athrun Zala again.

Sometimes, she wondered if the gentleness she thought she viewed in his eyes at times was merely a kind scorn from a shepherd gazing at a young, lost animal that thought it knew better. Had the seven years here done that to him?

She watched as Athrun smirked. "You do realize that seven years ago, I would not have even considered a kidnap? True, this wasn't intentional, I had meant for coercion and not the advantage of your lack of choice while you were unconscious. But I will have you consider that there are lengths I have already gone to that Athrun Zala would not have gone to, clearly demonstrating that he doesn't exist anymore."

His words had already been her thoughts, even if unarticulated, but Cagalli would not show more than her unease than what was already noticeable.

"Try me," She said softly, although she raised her chin impudently. "You aren't the only one who's become a little less idealistic since then."

To prove her point, she lifted her wrist towards him, as if to baptize it with a drop of rose water on the raw, reddened surface where metal had clamped down on soft flesh. Laplacia had been ordered to tend it- but the poultices and cooling salves had not changed its appearance even if the fiery pain had eased. She did not blame anyone. She had been the one who had so violently protested.

He raised his eyebrows and set down his cup. She glared with a deep poison laced in her face, and would have brought her wrist back. But his hand suddenly extended from where it had momentarily rested, perched on the white linen of the table, and caught her hand.

She flinched involuntarily, but his eyes burned into hers. The white silk of the gloves was cold and somehow strangely soothing against the rougher surface of the raw skin. She tried to take her hand back, but his grip was steel and the control he had was almost impossible. Slowly, he peeled off one glove with the tips of the gloved hand that her wrist rested in, and the bare hand began to trace the marks of the metal teeth.

Her eyes closed. The fingers were colder than the silk, like small pillars of ice against the lines that would remain there for some time. He wasn't hurting her with the careful tiptoeing of the fingertips against the wrist, and the caress of his fingers were deliciously light and addictive.

A releasing of her unconsciously held breath told Athrun that she had relaxed.

Promptly, he let go, and her eyes opened with shock, as the relaxed hand fell heavily on the table top, unable to respond to the signal that was too late. Awkwardly, she retraced her hand.

He smiled tightly, and light entered his eyes for the first time. "The mark of a child is one who insists that she isn't one."

Her face darkened. "What are you trying to say?"

He stood up and crossed to her side, pulling her out of her chair and locking her against the wall so she was confined to the parameters of his arms and the palms pressed on either side of her head.

"What I'm trying to say," Athrun murmured, voice harsh but eyes tender, "Is that sometimes, I want to retain memories. And all the better if you haven't changed, because it becomes clear that the past never went anywhere, at least not where you are concerned."

He ran a hand through her hair, bringing his face close to it, inhaling the sweet, dewy scents drawn along with her bath, and she was reminded of how gentle he could be.

She was afraid to realize the infinite and dangerous possibilities he had spread out in a blanket before her. Seven years had passed, and her heart ought not to have been pounding so madly, or her mouth so dry, Feebly, she licked her lips, bit them once, and colored a creamy rose. He observed every detail, recording every nuance of her body language with a marked eye and a calmness that made the situation disconcerting.

Then he stood back, rather than leaning his weight forward on the wall, and smiled slightly. "I'm waiting."

Her mouth went even drier. Her thoughts were blank as she watched him, and wondered what was the air about The Isle and this house that drove her to insanity and such a heightened sense of discontentment with the world around her. And a thought struck her- what would it be like if she somehow escaped the terms of the payment?

The one ungloved hand was pale and relaxed, but she sensed the power coursing through it. She could not remove her eyes from it.

"Like you mean it." He instructed, and an edge of steel came into his voice. There was no softness in him now, nothing that suggested any action he had done for the past week. There was only his demand now and the side of the contract she had to fulfill. She would not dare defy.

She approached timidly, and then tiptoed; lifting her arms to place her hands on his broad shoulders, and meekly pressed her lips to his. He remained motionless. Confused for a reason she could not place her finger on, she paused, tilted her head and then pressed her mouth to his again, more insistently this time, wondering if she looked like a fool with her eyes half-closed, not so much by choice, but by instinct, while his surveyed her skeptically. He wasn't satisfied, was he?

She swore raggedly in a harsh and hushed exasperation at how childish she was being, and then threw her arms wildly around his neck, pulling him down for their torso to meet, although he had no either reaction of his own will. And she watched him, feeling apprehensive, and then thought of a brilliant plan to mask her obvious inexperience with a situation like this.

She closed her eyes.

And feeling infinitely more confident in the darkness of her shut eyes, she began to explore, not so much out of anything except curiosity and the intangible spice of excitement and danger that enclosed them there.

Athrun's hands were tight by his sides. He would not hold her- or at least, he would do everything to prevent his holding her. He chuckled inwardly at her rather amateur attempts to lead, and yet, it made her vulnerable and even more desirable. For the entire week, he had resisted the urge to touch her for more than was necessary, although he could have plundered from her lips easily in her state or perhaps, had more than a kiss or two. But it was unthinkable- it was an imperative that she give herself to him, by her own free will, and that nothing else would force her to accept him.

Now, her inexperience gave rise to a new edge of possessiveness in him that she could not have been aware of yet. Besides, her poor attempts signaled two possibilities. One, she was trying to foul the terms, asserting her pride in the only choice she had now by kissing him awkwardly and clumsily. That was unlikely, given her character, and considering the impassionate manner her arms were beginning to envelop him with, his golden tempest would be a choice student. The other one was of a higher probability.

Simply, Cagalli had not had much practice since seven years ago, from the brimming of adolescence and early days, and was struggling with the context of the contract she was bound to fulfill. And perversely, since he had never meant it to be a reaffirmation of her innocence, but more of a dare gone wrong, he wanted her more than he thought was possible in his rationality and the secrets that he had to keep from her.

Suddenly irritated with her wholehearted but poor efforts, he ripped off the other glove and gripped her head, tilting it back to grant himself access. He would have no more need of the gloves. The past had been extricated- now was the moment to relive it. She uttered a cry of protest but it was drowned by the single action they had been embroiled in. He teased her with an expert tongue and almost cruel punishing of her lips with his teeth, tasting honey and tea her mouth was wetly scented with. She began to mewl in a quietly raw display of emotion that drew a fear in her. It did not deter him, it only deepened his desire.

Growling deep in his throat, he pushed her against the only door of the room he had kept her caged in and did what she had attempted to do in exploring, but only that his attempt was far more successful. She began to assimilate and follow what he was teaching her, her quiet moans muted by the cover of his lips over hers, and there was a strange fear in both of them, even when it was a supposedly harmless kiss.

She cried his name but it was lost in the darkness of their joint contact. He teased and bit her lips again to reward her.

The desire was no longer harmless, it was with a darkened edge now, and he was teaching her and demonstrating his expertise over her poorly-made attempts, and when they broke free, her lips, he noticed with satisfaction, were a strained pink from his biting and response to her attempt. Nervously, she placed a hand over her lips. "What- was that?"

He stalked to the door, and not trusting himself to speak yet, pressed his bare palm to it, half-supporting himself, half to key in the rows of numbers to release the security lock, too shaken to understand anything other than the fact that he wanted her more desperately than anything he had ever pined for. And seven years hadn't been a numbing barricade- it was like vinegar to a dish. Time had not been a salve, it had been a festering to the wounds she had given him. He turned around to look at her.

" What was that?" She asked shakily.

He turned around, his voice mocking and distorted with a reproach that she did not know, was not solely for her. "That was a kiss. One that you meant."

He continued in his path.

"Wait!" She called. "Your gloves-,"

"Do what you like with them." He said somberly, not even turning to look at them. "I have no more need of them."

The locks unlocked and the footsteps she heard after sinking to the ground became fainter.

A glimpse in the vanity revealed golden hair that hands had run through, and lips that had been bitted and kissed to its fullest potential. She could not blame him now- she had responded with equal fervor and fulfilled her side of the bargain to every last condition. It was no simple thing.

She had meant it.

Frowning, she put a hand to her lips again.

She proceeded to fling herself upon the bed, covering her face with her hands as an ostrich would when it imagined nobody would see it if it could see. And Cagalli understood that the heat emitting from her face was as real as the pounding of her heart and the mad gush of memories and need- not only desire, need.

Analyzing what possible gains he would stand to reap from a bargain like this had led her to only one conclusion. Of course, this was assuming that the seven years had been effective in numbing what they had once found in only each other, effective in removing the solace they had sought from each other in the war and eroding the warmth from being together.

He had asked for a kiss that she meant, only to mock her thus, because somehow, he had understood how little she had actually recovered and moved on from seven years ago, how large the entire lie was, and how badly she was keeping up with appearances in a place like The Isle.

She swore loudly in her misery. She had been playing right into his hands!

And yet-

She recalled his touch and actually shivered. But then, Athrun was not an untried and experienced man, nor was he predictable.

Anything but that, really.

Where would they go from now?

She looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an exit. He had dragged the truth of the past- and now, they were repeating it. She could not stay, for fear of being hurt and for fear of hurting him.

Where would she go from now?

A bell rang, and she sat up just in time to see Laplacia pattering in to clear the things.

The girl stopped in her tracks, staring at the disheveled Cagalli.

"Is anything the matter?" She whispered.

Cagalli looked at her, swallowing once. "No. No. It's nothing."

* * *

_4 months. 29 days_


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

For a long time, Rune Estragon sat in the annex, not quite thinking but pondering deeply enough about the captive in his house

It was Rune Estragon who thought in that highly precise, very systematic way. Athrun Zala did the same. The difference lay in Athrun Zala being unaware of his surroundings when he was in semi-thought, and Rune Estragon becoming more wary on his environment when he was inclined to think. And the greatest difference lay in the simple fact that in this room, there was only Athrun Zala, no Rune Estragon, no aristocratic, impersonal and intelligent businessman, no person who had no qualms about threatening and carrying out his threats.

It was here that the mask was peeled off, layer by layer, melting off and becoming a mist in the air as his eyes saw and registered everything of some importance. Rune Estragon saw nothing as important, nothing worth putting value to. The lights that danced about in the room were melding into each other, like pale, forsaken crows that left their flock to scavenge and return to taunt the others who had not gotten such prizes. He was accustomed to this flickering, and did not try to read in this place for his eyes' sake, and he was comforted by the drowsiness of the air and the scent of the candles. As Athrun Zala, he did not like to think of the shadows and the light as menacing. Too much light hurt his eyes after a childhood incident when he'd been accidentally burnt. Even now, he sometimes threw his hand up to his face when light was too close to his eyes, but he was drawn to light and the sun.

As Rune Estragon however, the shadows were a nuisance. Too much lurking in one corner. Too much to be conscious of, too much to take care of in case there was one concealed in the corner- although that was highly unlikely, of course. But Rune Estragon was never too careful. He stood up with that affliction of weary masculinity and withdrawn grace and lighted another lamp. There was no electricity in this room for no particular reason to Rune Estragon. For Athrun Zala, too much light would make the photographs dull faster.

It was simply that he had wanted revenge. It had been the strains of a wounded human affection compounded with the old contempt, although having her kiss him was another thing, of course. He wanted her to kiss him- he wanted her. The sun was already rising beyond the windows of this room, and it cast an uneven, mostly circular bloodstain over the gauze of the curtains. On his table, he had a few books he'd gotten from a safe that had been opened a few years ago with the Second Will his father had left behind. The First Will had been opened nine years ago. The third would be opened in two year' time. But for now, he had not been given more than five more businesses to take charge of, with the old things from his childhood and some of his father's old belongings. These lay on the elongated, fine shape of the table, along with a paraffin lamp that trapped a trembling, low leaf of a flame in its glass enclosure. Of course there were shadows-there were always shadows, like reminders of self-abasement and genuine, saving resentment towards Cagalli, the only person who had spurned him when it had mattered.

Holding the battered, childhood copy of _Franny and Zooey_ he'd somehow gotten hold of was not the most sickening thing Athrun had ever done after surviving the wars. Children had been brought up with books on naughty, rather endearingly foolish rabbits that snuck into gardens and bloated themselves on forbidden lettuce. Athrun Zala was a different case altogether.

He was born a scion of an old family of old power and old money, and really, the Plants had its own hierarchy altogether, in spite of general free markets and the discouraging of economic monopoly for the established families. Of course the established families had been established enough to become the leaders of a new world once more, and they'd gained monopolies relatively quickly, so really, there was no point of having laws that benefited nobody. It was in this light and this kind of privileged background that he had been born into part of the high society. His father had told him that, drummed it in him with that heavy-handed way of his, providing a 'standard' education for all old families' heirs with proper lessons on etiquette and culture, giving him all the toys he could ever want, while insisting and threatening that his son would not spoilt. This was a surprisingly accurate diagnosis of the boy who had grown up to be Athrun Zala- a quiet, quietly handsome and intelligent but slightly introverted boy with guardedly innocent, trustingly doubtful eyes. His mouth was made to look like a finely-drawn crescent moon that was never quite defined as a smiling or weeping mouth, and those who saw it often thought it melancholy and beautiful, those who knew him and knew that he had many but few friends. His character was another thing- he never flew into a rage, but his temper was slow-burning and intense, and when he did show his ire, it was with a humorous poison. He was never sarcastic, but he had been distinctively wry in that maddeningly prepossessing manner. He'd been taught to be impersonal and courteous, well-mannered with a killer's instinct.

But that was a mixture of nurture and nature in itself, and Patrick Zala's way of involvement- as a man, a husband, a father, he could never quite let it be; always had to plunge his hand from the icy cold into the fire to warm it. So it had been that his son was brought up on a manual to observing the organized chaos of a dysfunctional family, perhaps without even realizing that the later parts of his life and whatever that remained of a relationship between the father and son mimicked his childhood novels.

Athrun couldn't remember how he'd gotten his hands on this particular book amongst others that were scattered around. Had his mother objected to his reading habits or more likely, the choice of book? No, she'd been pleased as all mothers inherently tended to be when their children were diagnosed as particularly gifted or unusually mature. In fact, most Coordinator children were. His first talk about spring and that sort of thing associated with girls had been at ten, amidst a school hall of giggling boys and surly, embarrassed girls. Coordinator children, in general matured fast. It was again, their nature and their parents' nurture in the backdrop scenery of a looming war and the history of how they'd been nearly eradicated by the Naturals. Small wonder that the adults tried to educate the children early, lest they die early, lest their own children die early, and lest the hatred was not passed on to the next generation. That sort of parenting attitude had been passed on to every kind of education available, even rather embarrassing talks the children snickered at and the educators cringed at. But to a young man, it had been a remarkable experience. His own practical education had begun early anyway; as early as he'd enlisted in the army and watched seniors get packed off to war at the grounds where the airships took off, leaving hysterically-crying girlfriends and that kind of things behind.

The first girl he'd been close to had been Lacus, but that was different. Lacus was someone far away from war, someone in her own white palace with her lovely face and shining eyes and ignorance of what happened in trenches and dark space where nuclear sounds and the final screams were silenced by the laws of physics that no sound would be heard in space. He hadn't thought of Lacus as a girl; more of a distant future if he survived the present. A wife, a fiancée for now, not a living, breathing entity, but a figure cut in alabaster with the eternal smile and pure heart that was too pure for her own good. He rarely thought of Lacus while in the trenches- which made him more obliging and courteous to her when he knew it was time to make a courtesy call during his breaks. He never desired her physically- it had never occurred to him that she might have had a strange sensuality because he had never thought of her as a mortal. She might have been an angel, an android, or a computer program for all he was concerned about- perfect, unadulterated, and even boring. The first girl he'd been with, the first _real_ girl, had been kind and warm and alive, about five years older than him, red-eyed and cheerful as she waved her comrade and lover off.

He'd been amongst those who waved their loved ones off, quiet and withdrawn, a few months into the ZAFT forces with only the memory of his mother and her death on the commercial widescreen to keep him from going mad from the desire to hunt and kill. They'd bumped into each other and he'd apologized for making her drop her things, looking up and comprehending quite suddenly that his hands had accidentally brushed against her rear. She didn't register outrage or embarrassment, and he was glad that he didn't have to pretend to be affected by it.

He'd picked the things up for her, and realized that they'd been the things her boyfriend had left behind. He'd been puzzled- asked her why she was taking them away. She'd laughed, as if her swollen eyes didn't matter, as if her trembling hands were steady, like her voice wasn't hoarse from trying not to cry, and she teased his prying questions, and then sobered and told him that her boyfriend was simply not coming back. There was no chance of it at all. And she was right.

Two hours later, the news came that the ship had been annihilated for want of numbers against the sweeping Natural troops. He had thought about what she'd said and didn't feel quite sorry, only a dull satisfaction and that confirmation of the rage against the enemies worthy of his hatred.

Then he'd seen her walking towards a corner of the camp and without a conscious understanding of the need to comfort and be comforted, he followed after her. They didn't bother talking much after the initial greeting and his cautious questions. But they returned separately, three hours later.

She'd cried after that, told him she wasn't sorry however, that he'd been keeping her company. They had ended up in one of those abandoned warehouses even the runts avoided going to; there were rumors of it being haunted, and people did not like to provoke things like that in general. But she pooh-poohed those; on hindsight, he knew she hadn't been afraid of anything, not even death, much less the undead, and they spent the next few days returning, quietly seeking each other amongst the throngs of weeping comrades who had survived the dead ones.

The warehouse had smelt of various substances; sweetly musky rotted wood, talcum powder for boots, copper and rust, not surprisingly, and a popular perfume for the ladies. Amidst this were the more subtle things, the familiar scent of a man's desire, walnut benches, mossy fragrances and the tangy sweat of human bodies and exercise. Athrun sometimes suspected, were the source of the 'ghosts'. Purely speaking, he gained firsthand knowledge that there were no such specters, only the cries of his senior and their moans as they spent hour after hour in their desperate, needy lovemaking. He was convinced, after that, that the rumors had been encouraged to provide a sort of informal but official place for couples.

She taught him all there was to know, willingly because she had nothing left to live for and because she was a generous lover by nature, and he rather enjoyed himself as she did, once they'd moved past their initial grieving and mutual comforting. They used to enter, locking the door and fastening it haphazardly while they struggled to remove their clothing and reach each other. She had a thick mop of long, swinging auburn hair, a fringe that sometimes covered her very large, sorrowful eyes. Her face had been quite pretty, that much he was sure of; but if she had appeared a little lanky, slightly boyish figure with thin shoulders and legs that looked almost gangly in her pilot suit, then stripped bare, she had been otherwise.

In his arms, she'd been full and rounded with warm flesh and eager want of him, and he had enjoyed the curves he hadn't thought to notice, the way she knew how to engage him. It hadn't occurred to him then that she'd lost a lot of weight recently, with worrying and stress, but he had been fascinated by how her thin, small shoulders were sometimes hunched when she arched herself to him as he busied himself with her. He remembered her fair skin being quite freckly, although he was enamored by this imperfection and was physically attracted to her all the more for it. She had been slightly taller than him, which was unusual for a girl, but then he had been five years younger and was to soon experience another growth spurt anyway. They spent hours sprawled all over the low, nearly broken table, a clean towel she'd found and brought with her so they wouldn't suffer from splinters in their backs and limbs as they'd writhed and panted, her hands exploring him and his face unmasked and his aggressiveness obvious because of her encouragement.

And he was sorry to see her go and never return one day. But he didn't ask her to stay- that was simply impossible for two reasons. One, enlistment meant complete loyalty to ZAFT and the orders. Two, he did not love her although he was beginning to care. He hadn't even remembered her name; but then, she had never told him her name and he'd never asked. He did remember her unit however, and he was surprised to know that it was a highly-ranked GOUF unit. He did not pay homage to her memory- there was no need for that. He hadn't loved her, and they'd been almost-friends but not quite.

That was the kind of life the war showed them, and it was not a sordid one in spite of its nature. Little things like that persisted in his memory and the way his mouth was neither smiling nor crying. Above all, the knowledge, or more accurately, the belief that he had to avenge, had to eradicate the enemy lurked in him, in the way he smiled, the way he carried himself and the gun in his coat, the way he received the title of the Redcoat rank.

Had Lenore realized that his father had encouraged that belief? Perhaps not. The signature on the second last page of every book Athrun had was an embellished stamp of P.Z. Even at that point, his father had been reliant on a pre-cast signature. The birthday message had been embedded in the message of the book, at least, that was what the eight-year old had believed. After all, there hadn't been any handwritten message on the leaves of a book that may have well been the library book he borrowed on a weekly basis, the book with the crisp pages with that new smell and a stately, organized and significantly indifferent stamp.

His mother had been a simple, slightly underprivileged town girl whom Patrick had married when he had decided it was time to move on to the next stage of his life and ambitions- fathering a son to succeed the already thinned bloodline of the Zala House. The justification for his marriage to young girl barely on the cusp of womanhood when he'd been a thriving, ambition-led man in the prime of his life was as good as anybody's guess. But that was not to say that he did not love Lenore. Certainly, he had loved her enough to claim her as his own instead of stringing her along as one of those who appeared in society-magazines for a while and then faded into oblivion; there had been hushed reports of a man Patrick Zala had nearly beaten into unconsciousness for laying a hand on his wife in drunken desire, but that had been silenced because Patrick Zala was ceded to be part of the High Council in a few months.

Inarguably, Patrick had loved her in the end; he'd become the insane genocidal beast for her, the most obvious declaration of obsessed love if there ever was one. And who could deny that he had loved her with all his soul, if he ever had one in the first place? Nobody in the Plants had truly noticed, with the instinctive repulsion towards Naturals and the sheer brilliance of Patrick Zala's fragmented mind blinding them each time with his election speeches, that Patrick Zala had gone mad in the months after his wife's demise.

It was all over the diaries Athrun kept in a box, locked away somewhere he did not like to try and remember; neat, very disciplined, flowing penmanship, a memo about meeting Lenore Zala for lunch and actually remarking what an enjoyable outing it had been. It had been three weeks after Lenore Zala had been eradicated with most of Junius Seven.

Things like that, scattered everywhere in the pages of a diary only Patrick had access to until it had been handed over to the family safe after his demise. The State had demanded it from Athrun Zala right after the First War had ended, but he had politely claimed it as his own. It had dangerous plans that involved other plans if Genesis had failed, but then Athrun wasn't; about to press the trigger and he felt a indelible sense of pity and ironic sentimentality for a man who had been ruined.

And nobody had quite known that the brilliant man who had gone to the top Universities by his own merit and a little push of family funding had started taking multiple wrong turns every evening as he had driven home, a mirror of the life that he was to forge for himself until the time came when he was to die. And his death had been completed in the whimpering manner Patrick Zala despised of others and yet showed during the crisis of the Genesis chaos he'd constructed for himself and the world.

When Lenore had married Patrick Zala, it had been the classic rags-to-riches story, never mind the twelve year age gap or how infamously stoic Patrick Zala was. It was fundamental that the wedding was the event of the year, there was a long checklist of ostentatious costs, suits, bridesmaids Lenore had probably never met until her wedding day, and the kind of posterity one could expect form a young, stunning and stunningly ordinary girl marrying into stations high above her middle-class profession social denomination.

She hadn't been ignorant, only ill-informed, and her training as a leading anthropologist hadn't quite prepared her for her social debutante. Naturally, she'd retreated into a sort of homely shell, allocating all her time to her son and her husband, adoring them both, having both of them adore her, and in the process, Lenore hadn't opposed to having countless of books being given to Athrun. This was especially when she was unaware of the history of certain prose that had induced a murder of a famous politician at one time or another. Patrick Zala had taken full advantage of that, of course. Between his office politics and limited family interactions, he'd decided that his son would be an educated gentleman.

In certain respects, Athrun was his father. He'd been brought up to be his father, without his mother quite understanding that, without his father understanding that he was destroying something in Athrun with the love he showered on the child with books adults grappled over to understand and shot themselves in the head when they found they could not.

But Athrun was never inclined to be suicidal; he'd tottered around as a child of eight, asking what this word and that word meant, asking what it meant to have a religion, asking why Franny's friend suggested that they get friendly when they were already friends, asking why Zooey talked about the Fat Lady, who the Fat Lady was-

In all assumed honesty to himself, he had never been because he was too engrossed in living for the dead to remember how it was to die while living. He'd died a few times- watched his mother being blown to smithereens on the giant diamond screens that took a break from advertising the latest tune-playing gadgets, killed a man and spent a whole day washing his hands and face until the skin was nearly torn, betrayed by his father, shot in the arm by the man who'd once bounced him on his lap, things like that.

But Athrun was not embittered, sophisticated yes; but not embittered. He was the kind of man who instinctively trusted without taking for granted that betrayals occurred everywhere and at any time, the kind of man who people did not dare to not respect, but the kind of man who was more assessing and critical of himself than anybody else. He despised himself but saw no better way of living

Be it for his wretched, unhappy parents or the comrades he'd lost, Athrun could not quite ignore their presence in his memory. And reading it every night as light reading before one slept made it a routine depression that he somehow found tension-relieving. It didn't make deep reading in his opinion- the thoughts of the Glass siblings, like organized chaos, was actually quite refreshing from the staid business reports. Again, he was far too concerned with the present to understand that he was living from a window in his past.

The copy lay amidst the other miscellaneous things. The place was bathed in beige and sepia tones of wood, masculine and somehow raw because Athrun had not bothered furnishing it, save for a simple couch he sometimes sat on to think. He could not do his business dealings here, let alone his planning- this place was far too sacred for anybody to desecrate, and yet it had that comforting, slightly musky smell of a place that was not over-sanitized but well-preserved.

It was the only place where Rune Estragon was a mere cover, a duvet over his head, a singly room that was worth a few rooms put together. Even after seven years, he had not changed a single thing in this room, akin to how he had not bothered changing himself physically. He was different, he knew that innately, something cold and comprehending in him, like an illness that he had not recovered from- not too sick enough to die, but not recovered enough to be irritable about its presence.

But she was tearing through all of that, each time she called him Athrun, looked at him with unconscious confusion in her eyes when he did something cruel or out of character, in her opinion at least. What was cruelty? Kicking a cat or hitting a child? Or making her understand that he saw her as a woman, not a war-comrade he could embrace without a certain depth of desire? There was always a sickening satisfaction when he saw that she sensed this and was frightened of him and herself. But he'd proven he didn't need her and had long forgotten about her, hadn't he?

When he had claimed his returns for supplying her information she had begged for, he hadn't liked the way she allowed him to kiss her possessively and almost desperately. Ideally, that was what he had wanted- for Cagalli Yula Atha to submit to him physically and by extension, mentally and emotionally, but the reality that she had made him slightly nauseous now.

It wasn't the kiss itself- no, she had been sweet and thrilling, raw and compellingly vulnerable, and the mere recollection of the way she had willingly uplifted her gaze and brought herself close to him made him slightly dazed. But the kiss evoked so many memories the pat seven years had once numbed and blocked out, that he feel something in him was at the point of rupture.

He was nearly inarticulate with irritation at her and himself.

And really- that was the problem. He still loved Cagalli. If he had forgotten her, now he was falling for her all over again. Which was worst? The renewal of desire and affection or a reminder of something that inherently existed in him?

Athrun honestly didn't know.

His hand brushed across the cover of _Franny and Zooey._ She had read this copy once, when he'd been carrying his things in melancholy looking boxes when he'd lived at the Atha estate. She had hated it- he'd caught her sobbing even thought the book wasn't particularly sad, more disturbing than sad, really.

She had tried to excuse herself, but concerned and mostly curious, he'd asked her why she was crying. After all, the author had written a book with the same nuances as this one, and some manic had got hold of it and assassinated an American president a long time ago. He didn't want her to be too affected by it, lest she go berserk on him.

She hadn't been able to explain why. It was the power of that book, he thought now. That book had no conclusion, a reverse bildungsroman, really, and time seemed to never move for the flow of the story if you could call it that and not one long, twisted conversation two siblings shared over the phone during one of their religious crises in the story.

He wanted to remember something about the way she'd muttered, "Don't know why," but all he could think of was the turmoil inside, the way he had fervently sworn to protect her and make her love him. And that was the problem of youth. There was too much time and too little to do. And they'd let it go to waste in the end. They were now like the story in that time was not moving for them but actually reversing itself as the past was dredged up, little by little, until it was too late to see any possible alternative path to living.

He sat in front of the rows of faces, imagining all their voices, how high-spirited they had all been once. Wooden frames, glass covers, glossy colors. He had framed these and locked them away for a year, until he'd decided that he wanted them around still, even if they were irritating to see at times. Amongst the familiar people, a man, distinguished with a stern but somehow accepting softness in his face if one was perceptible enough, the grey strands in his hair combed neatly behind his ears as his son stood stiffly, certainly in awe, behind his father.

The slight reflections in the glass frames were warped, wavy even. He frowned at his own reflection, not seeing much of anything in the distortion, but lifting a hand to undo the cufflinks, depositing them at the side.

His father had influenced him from the way he carried himself to the way he dressed. Patrick and Athrun Zala were unconsciously imperceptible to many others, not because they desired to be so, but because Patrick had an innate habit of keeping his thoughts to himself although he was an influential speaker when he desired to be.

Therefore, Athrun was such a person- he'd began to lose the need to voice his thoughts once he'd reached his eighth birthday and decided that he was on his way to becoming the father that he idolized and later, but only on hindsight, idealized for too much of the man's actual credit.

He smiled grimly at his father's unsmiling image. "If you met her, you'd pity me for breaking her."

Patrick Zala was a shadow in his son's eyes. It lurked there, cold and mercenary at times, and it frightened Athrun in the deep of the night, when he awoke sweating, imagining a gun wound, and old one but nonetheless painful and searing, in his arm. His own father had shot him. He had been prepared to kill his father in front of Cagalli, only that someone had done it before him.

He was becoming his father. Oh God.

He could not bear to throw it away. It was a rare picture of Patrick Zala, a man who was first and foremost, the Senator Zala of Plant, then secondly, the father of Athrun. His wife was much younger than him, and Athrun had often overheard his mother teasing his father on how old he was becoming. Was that why Patrick Zala did all he could to make up for what he felt lacking in a husband's youth? Perhaps. And ironically, he sacrificed the remaining years of his prime to make up for this.

His father had been a madman, the trigger of the Genesis, the doomsayer of the era. It was frankly rather annoying since Athrun had looked up to the man as a child and in some ways, even at this stage, did until then. To give Patrick Zala credit, he had been unshakeable in his love for Athrun's mother, never mind that he'd gone mad chasing after that very thing once Lenore had died.

The human mind was a fragile one. Something in Athrun ultimately believed that Patrick Zala had ceased to exist after Lenore had been killed in a show of cold-blooded murder. His father had died long before Athrun had found him floating in a pool of his own blood in the gravity-defying cell, way before Patrick Zala had shot him, way before Patrick Zala had declared merciless war on the Naturals, way before Patrick Zala had looked at him coldly, barely registering the blood-red uniform Athrun was nearly trembling with the joy while wearing before his father.

What had his father said then? Oh-

"What is it? I'm busy."

It was then that Athrun muttered something only the smiling faces registered with their somberly composed merriment, for the camera's sake. Nobody really knew what he said to it, but then, he had been incoherent, the thoughts jumbled everywhere and his head throbbing.

But it was perhaps, as Cagalli had spat, impossible for him to be Patrick Zala. He was the son of a man like Patrick Zala, he had grown up idolizing Patrick, idealizing every of his flaws, glossing the tyranny of his father's ambitions over and over until he'd gone to war for those same ideals.

He was like a beast now, fighting for those ideals, using a woman he had loved and perhaps still did, in a bid to regain something of the past. She would be destroyed by all he was doing. But he could never be Patrick Zala because he inherently trusted and wanted to love the life around him.

That was the crucial difference.

His eyes fell on a separate row of photographs. A few showed him standing next to his friends or the comrades, some of who never lived past the years after the war if they had managed to outlive the unluckier ones.

He stood up, painfully, walking, one hand gentle on the panel, as he passed the rows of memories. Why did he still keep them here? He did not know why- he had no more need of such a past, but it was a pity to forget as well. There was good amongst the bad, and his eye suddenly fell on a lone photograph, nearly forgotten or overshadowed by the more prominently featured ones.

Cagalli was smiling at the camera, a pair of hands around her neck, her head pressed to somebody as he tilted her slightly backwards, and the camera out of focus while she clung onto that pair of hands. His, in fact.

Who had taken the photograph? He could not remember. The photography did not show his face, only hers. But he knew what expression he must have had. They had been about seventeen then, her face was aglow with that permanent, golden happiness and his must have mirrored hers.

He thought of Cagalli now. He was harming her. He had done so by bringing her here to The Isle, but at the same time, he was destroying himself, insidiously, from inside, the renewing of recollection and renewed pain working its way outwards.

Someone knocked at the door. "Milord- they want an explanation for the demise of Decant Corriolis."

Athrun cleared his throat. "I will go."

He looked at the photograph again. She had been his sky- the seven years had only festered the absence and the smile he was seeing now was a reminder of what he was secretly yarning for.

There was no hiding it now. He had loved her deeply, hated her for betraying him, and loved her for it more, the way men often do when they are thwarted and spurned by women who they are convinced they want. But if it was even remotely possible, he was a different person now, changed and less ideal, and yet he wanted her, not because she was out of his reach, not because she had changed too and was unimaginably strong and beautiful in her vulnerability. He had been attracted to that part of her since the first time he'd met her-now, it was even more pronounced and it was besotting and frustrating to want her.

He looked at the portrait grimacing.

The entire genealogy of the Zala House plagued him in this room, whenever he chose to enter it. It should have been a reminder to him that he did not deserve her, that she had rejected him and he should have forgotten her for it.

But the entire irony was that he was falling in love with her on an island, not even for the first time.

* * *

Five hours later, he sat in his study, reading carefully while ignoring Epstein. He knew his assistant wanted to say something, something that Athrun himself was clearer of than anybody else, and yet, he did not want to address it at all.

Epstein looked irritated for a second, but masked his displeasure with a cough and an insidious straightening of his collar.

"What is it?" Athrun said, with that perennially unaffected tone which was somehow crisper than the average speaker without being pretentious. He did not glance up from the letter he was reading. It came with the lack of care as to how others perceived him. It came from the lack of care as to how others perceived him.

"Excuse my language," Epstein said rashly and very uncharacteristically. "But I think we're screwed."

"No," Athrun said mildly. "I haven't been wanting company for some time."

There was a curse from Epstein. "Estragon! Do you want a flying kick in the nether region?"

There was a pinched smile from Athrun. "I apologise."

His ward looked hastily disapproving and stood straighter to dampen the hacking coughs of snorted, nervous laughter. "On a normal day, I would have enjoyed the rather uncharacteristic humor. You were lucky you found me after I had been educated on these things."

"Thanks be to whoever who took charge of your holistic education. You majored in Social Science, History, Higher Mathematics, Chemical Engineering, and minored in how to snare a woman in bed. I can't think of a better combination myself."

"Oh quit that droll tone already," Epstein retorted, laughing openly now. "You aren't too bad yourself, are you? Political Science, Engineering, Economics, Law, and a degree in being the rake of the century."

Athrun gave a short bark of laughter and continued on as per normal. "As I said, that is highly exaggerated and mostly untrue. It's back to the whole issue of the lack of company in recent times."

"But Lyra would have stayed if you'd asked her to."

Athrun did not answer. He found no reason to. It was certain that Lyra would have made it a point to leave if Athrun had asked her to stay. She was that kind of person, too strong and too scared to be tied down to someone who could give her more than she expected.

There was a sound of disapproval from where Epstein sat across his desk, and Athrun could imagine what his expression was like. But he did not care to look up. The letter was more engrossing, and he gazed at the black and white photo of Kira Yamato, noting the clear resemblances to Cagalli, the stubborn eyes, the half-smile when he felt threatened but did not want to show it, the little things like that.

"Er-," Epstein said in a show of sarcasm, "If you'll allow me to go back to the whole picture, sir. We've been threatened to be flushed out of this place like common cockroaches, along with the good old threat of them killing the Orb Princess and the rest of us. You know they want to keep her with them so they have the bargaining chip- the only reason why you're keeping her here is for her protection and for us to use her as _our_ bargaining chip. I doubt they'll try to use diplomacy on us, now that one of their men has died in the attempt to retrieve the Princess. The chances are that they are plotting our very deaths at this moment. I tell you, if we didn't have the protection, which you will always have as long as you remain _his _friend and ally, the terrorists will have our heads."

Athrun looked up with a bemused expression. "Are you afraid of the threats? That they will slaughter us? Did we not meet with them just only to clarify that her safety is the main imperative in this and that their little plans to kill her because of an unforeseen circumstance was really their own undoing? Their leader pledged his allegiance to me, just as I to him."

"I'm not afraid of any threat.' Epstein said immediately, somehow betraying the general impression he wanted to give those who looked upon him and asked to see a mature adult. "But you know it is a shaky relationship- both of you are only biding your time. You know as well as I do why he sent Corriolis to visit the Manor. That man was here to convince us to let him take the Princess back to their quarters and use her for drawing attention to them. Scandinavia's tight-lipped about their existence- having a missing Princess linked to terrorism and a planned capture would certainly disprove the notion that they don't exist."

"And what do you think they would have done to her if we had let them take her?" Athrun said stormily.

"Made her sign something that attributed her disappearance to their very existence, obviously," Epstein answered instantly. "And then the trouble would really start. The Orb troops would probably break into Scandinavia and blast Denmark just to find her."

"If you know all this," Athrun remarked, "Then why are you even questioning the decision to keep her here in the Manor?"

"Because she attracts danger, that's why!" Epstein cried. "She's like a trouble-magnet!"

"But if managed properly," Athrun said sharply, "Has immense use for us. Giving her to them will only prolong the period of her suffering before she is possibly killed. If it hasn't escaped you rattention, let us remind ourselves that the Orb Princess is an incredibly rash person. I doubt she would take kindly to being their captive. The whole point for them in capturing her is to draw attention to them so that they gain the power to bargain with the Swedish Heads for their independence. And this is part of our plan to, isn't it? That's why we are even in a collusion and agreement of sorts. If they want to do it as they please, without considering our interests, then there is no point sticking with the prior agreements."

"But they don't know we have other interests!" Epstein exclaimed in unintended comical impatience. "Unless you include the one they mentioned yesterday in attempting to gad you in revealing why you were so insistent on having her right here. You heard what they insinuated yesterday! Hello, sir, they offered you a replacement whore! You know what they were leering at! What, did you think those gangsters found you attractive?"

Athrun shrugged, although his lips twitched. "Let them think what they like. In any case, we cannot guarantee the Orb Princess' safety in their hands. Their insinuation yesterday only proves that they would crush her dignity, not for spite but for their own lack of control and self-respect. Acknowledging that I am capable of a rousing rape is the same as challenging the issue that so are they. The point is that we cannot hand her over to them."

"And that reinstates what I said," Epstein gritted, "We betrayed them in the first place. The agreement was for us to locate and convince her to come with us while they fought off the Scandinavian troops and her guards. And we were supposed to hand her over- obviously, that's not happening. And that's precisely why they sent Decant Corriolis to retrieve her or kill her so that their goal would still be met."

"We weren't sure of whether they could still use her even when she was dead," Athrun said quietly. "And I deliberately left her chamber unlocked so I could prove and confirm that he wanted to kill her. But you were more far-sighted than me- you couldn't trust Corriolis and poisoned him. I have you to thank. I was caught unprepared when he took a stun gun to my chest, in the form of his watch."

Epstein sighed.

"I wasn't any better." He said, clearly troubled. "Amazing how a single blow can render a man unconscious. The poison was merely a safeguard- I could not think of any other way to make sure that he would die incase we had already done so and could not prevent him from reaching the Princess."

"Mostly," Athrun commented, "I was sure that he would try to kill her. But I knew his wife personally-she was a friend of mine. It seemed unthinkable to remove him without first confirming his intent. But in retrospect, that was foolhardy. I risked the Orb Princess' life. I even had her drugged that night so she would not notice the unlocked door and try to escape from her cuff."

"The poison was timed to react when he was moving from the drawing-room to the passage outside her chambers," Epstein muttered. "But I probably underestimated him. Corriolis made it all the way into her room, did he not? Thank God you regained consciousness and removed him in time."

"Only because you woke be before you lost consciousness," Athrun said simply. "Ironically with the stun gun he left behind when he threw down his watch and fled after drinking his tea and fighting both of us."

"Obviously we won't go down without a fight," Epstein said with a trace of exasperation, "But taking into account that a month and a half has passed, and the Orb Princess is still with us, as you insist she be, it's hard to see us surviving for the remaining four months. It's clear that the whole cesspool of them want our blood, I think. We just finished off one of their leaders, didn't we? And you knowthey take revenge very seriously. Corriolis was the last of his family. First his two children, then his pregnant wife- all by that worm's hands. He was pretty much suicidal for even agreeing to this mission."

"You gave him salvation." Athrun said faintly, although there was firmness in his voice.

"I gave him poison." Epstein corrected.

They looked at each other with cool contempt, although they understood that it was not directed to each other.

Athrun stood up, walking over to where Epstein sat. He could see clearly, in the light, that Epstein's eyes were still young and a bit impressionable- he was ultimately young. A twenty-year old had no place in this, and yet, he had found Athrun and pledged allegiance. His mother would have rolled in her grave, after specifically leaving instructions to the survivors of the general devastation that her son was _not _to go to war.

"What's proper justification for a war?" Athrun inquired.

Epstein smirked. "Haven't you heard? All's fair in love and war, if you can bear the cliché."

"Then what's the proper justification for preventing a war?" Athrun said absent-mindedly.

His assistant's eyes flew to him. "What do you mean? If we're sacrificing the Orb troops, it is a war in itself-,"

"A woman I know once asked me," Athrun interrupted wearily. "What is the meaning of fighting for peace?"

He was met with silence. Epstein's eyes were wary. "Was it the Orb Princess who asked you that?"

"She wasn't the first one who did," Athrun said slowly. "Lacus Clyne asked me the question I'd been trying to avoid answering ever since I joined the war."

"But you knew the Princess during the war, didn't you?"

Athrun looked at Epstein and smiled regretfully. "Only as a comrade."

His ward accepted the explanation with nonchalance and a shrug, possibly because there was no need to suspect otherwise, possibly because there was no indication to the lie. "That makes sense. That's why you agreed to capture her and bring her to The Isle. If you had been friends or anything, you'd have probably refused to. But where do you draw the line? She's the twin of your friend- did that come into consideration?"

"She is herself, and not the twin of a friend I have not met in seven years." Athrun replied flatly. "I never once thought of the Orb Princess as only the twin of Kira Yamato. I said it once already- she was someone I met briefly in the war. That is all."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Epstein called.

Cartesia peeked in. "Sir- will you meet the Orb Princess tonight? We are not sure if preparations are necessary."

Athrun exchanged a glance with Epstein, and it was fleeting without it being a searching one. Epstein made a movement that suggested irritation, and stood up. "Well, the Orb Princess' safety comes as the top of the priorities. I'm not sure about you entertaining her though. What is it that you wield over her?"

He felt a frisson of anger move in his body, anger at being misunderstood, anger directed at being partially understood, anger towards being nearly understood. But no. Epstein, for all his maturity, was too caught up in his own life to question Rune Estragon's. And Epstein was, as Athrun was convinced, quite ignorant about Athrun's other plans. This was possibly because Athrun's plans were usually articulated, during board meetings, during the daily interactions with his right-hand man and at times like those.

But then, Athrun himself did not quite have his plans made concrete- they had been developed as a sort of conversation topic his mind and his body had between themselves each time he saw her or remembered her. And he neither wanted to prolong this nor allow Epstein to suspect any deeper relationship with Cagalli other than captor and captive.

Epstein looked at him with something like a pained smirk. "Did she threaten to kill you upon her release unless you kept her amused?"

"No." He said coldly. "She has threatened to kill herself for that, however. But that was in the past."

Epstein looked miffed. "In that case, why don't you leave her alone?"

"I could." He remarked ambiguously. "And I shall."

Laplacia, from the corner of his eye, was pattering towards her sister. She caught sight of Epstein, made a small noise like an alarmed cat, and looked flustered. Epstein did not say anything but a slightly inconsistent look came over his face- bewilderment. Athrun saw this and made no comment. He would store this- use it as blackmail or a conversation-started with Epstein for some other time.

"Tell Her Excellence that I will not see her for some time."

There was always a choice. He would have his. And it would be a wish, and that wish would be fulfilled. Rune Estragon was that sort of person who had his way. Athrun Zala was the sort of person who worked for his way.

And Athrun looked at the letter on his desk, along with the photograph. Kira Yamato was probably worried to no end about his missing sister. But she was in safe hands, whether his friend was aware of it or not. For Athrun would personally remove whosoever who dared to harm Cagalli Yula Atha, Princess of Orb, Supreme Commander of the United Emirates, former war comrade, captive, and his golden filly.

* * *

He went about as per normal. His suits were waiting for him, pressed and freshly-ironed. His clients were waiting for him, pressed and freshly-anxious. His meals were waiting for him, heated and re-heated. He ate them when he had the time to.

Epstein commented the other day that Rune Estragon was becoming too conspicuous for his own good. Had it been the recent killing or the recent killing or the recent killing? He pondered about this. The death of a man in his house was hushed. The business deals he'd enclosed were secrets.

It must have been the last killing Epstein had been referring to- Rune Estragon's companies must have closed down a few others with the recent outsourcing. But then, it might have been the girl he had made a point to be seen with. She was the niece of a man who appeared to be a normal person, a pretense the Isle-dwellers kept up pretty well. And Rune Estragon had pretended that she hadn't interested him because of her uncle's reputation. He had none here on this Isle.

And yet, by the end of that night, she had agreed to tell him whatever he needed. Something the niece of an important person would have been able to do. He hadn't minded her at all; she was the kind of conventionally beautiful woman who everyone admired and did not respect for being too lovely and smiling. Lacus Clyne had been unfortunate to have had the same makings of such a woman, only that she had turned around and shown the world her true nature. Hardly a simple princess, that girl.

Perhaps that was why Rune Estragon hadn't minded the niece so much- she reminded him of Lacus, and she had the potential to become a Lacus, if there were such a thing. But no, he was idealizing her. She had been morally sound- refused to let him hold her hand and kiss it while she fluttered her eyelashes and made coquettish remarks.

And of course, she'd been well brought up; she'd refused to let him come quite close to her while she played with the brooch she'd arranged at the trough of the décolletage. And she'd been pleasurable company- her small talk was enjoyable when she was allowed to speak between their frantic, heated kisses. Subsequently, he had been bored out of his wits.

Rune Estragon was by no way an unknown in his circles. And this was naturally so, for the man was rumored to be one of the most affluent here on The Isle and before that, a dozen other places. But he did not flaunt his wealth- the size of the manor was hidden by the cove of cliffs, grey and immense in their stateliness. If one were to visit his house, they would find an enormous, but compared to the cliffs, rather moderate a block of white. And it was a structured mammoth slab, but still unostentatious.

Nobody would have quite expected the extravagant tastes of the upper leisurely class in such a place, and it was accurate of Rune Estragon. He did not shun moving in these circles, but he did not move about frequently either. Some called him a recluse, but then, weren't all of them?

And everybody on The Isle minded their business well. The income disparity was almost non-existent, and the only one that existed was for the multi-billionaires and mere billionaires. Their tastes, however, did vary, as it was expected of those who could afford to have their tastes met.

Rune Estragon was one who did not like people probing into his past. Most of those on The Isle did not- they had come here and decided to never leave precisely because they did not want any associations with their past. But some were fine to reveal what they'd been before they had left their pasts and identities. Some, like Lyra, had been brought here as a child. They'd never known anything more than what they'd always been. She had been forthcoming about everything, the way she lived her life, what she expected of him, and the scars she carried on her arms and back.

His business deals were never easy to settle. Those included discussions across the world, through people he had contact with who didn't even know about The Isle, people who did best not knowing about The Isle.

He drove to the town edge, not too quickly, but fast enough so that he would reach punctually, where the cliffs where at its rockiest points. Anybody who fell over would meet certain death, and he was sure a few already had. He muttered something as somebody approached from the rocks behind, calling loudly to be heard over the shouts of the waves crashing on the rocks.

She had planted some flowers here, some hardy, yellow, deceptively-cheerful and delicate looking shrubs. He liked to call them weeds, but she called those the fighter-plants. She'd been interested in horticulture and politics, could dance decently and had a remarkable talent for organization. Of course, she had been allowed education in none of those except an involuntary learning on sordid affairs and how to gain an upper hand over men who were foolish enough to mistake her for a mere doll.

Athrun turned, although he knew who it was.

"What is it?" He said, although it was clearly not unkind. He had out a hand, and she took it, shaking it, not in the least awkward after their absence of contact after so long. Then he drew her into his arms, aware that she would not misunderstand. She laughed and the sea glimmered on her face and in her eyes.

"You know," She said thoughtfully. "I believe I ought to be afraid."

"And why are you not?"

He let go of her and sat where he had before.

Lyra Delphius smiled, and he was reminded of someone else immediately. But this was different- he had not met her for a year already, and it was unfair to focus somewhere else when meeting an old friend. "Because you never kill unless you have to protect."

She crossed up to him, arranging her fluttering skirts so she could sit by him, and he noticed how she had gained a little weight to fill out that raw, thin hunger he had once pitied in seeing. "I'd like to spend hour after hour catching up with you. You've changed."

"How so?" He asked, bewildered.

Lyra blinked once, then looked at him closely. "Your face is more guarded than before. But where are your gloves? You never left without them."

He looked at his hands, the way she was doing, with some skepticism and some sense of familiarity settling on both their faces. But the difference was that she looked at him with a sort of quiet sorrow and he looked at her with the blankness of one who did not want to risk feeling. They were bare and slightly chilly from the incessant wind. "I settled some things."

"But there's more than catching up," Lyra intercepted swiftly. "I need clarification."

He had predicted this already. Her eyes were sharp and keen, the way they were whenever he addressed her outside the bedroom, the way a clever, pitiful cat did when it knew when it was being addressed when it was not expecting a pt on the head. Some part of him grieved for her, but she did not need his pity. Lyra was a very different sort of person- fiercely independent, liberal and free-spirited, and he had been surprised by her open, slightly aggressive sensuality she displayed like a confident man, and not a delicate woman he sometimes thought her to be. She had been his business advisor, his confidante, and a good friend until she'd left for a less complicated life. They were comrades, seeking to live as fiercely as they could, always, and they had never quarreled once because their queer, yet powerful friendship was a disincentive for strife.

"But I came to warn you." She said swiftly, staring at him rather than the sea he had stared at before her arrival. "You have been a very careful man during the three years we worked together. Even until now, I am not clear on what your motivations are, or who you are. Estragon- that is the only person I know, except when you occasionally remind me that you have another name. But you are Estragon to me."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him with her fingers, pressing it to his lips.

"I know enough to suspect, however," Lyra continued urgently. "That Corriolis' death is not a simple one. I heard it from Herliose- she was his consort for most of the time. What made you kill him?"

"I didn't kill him," Athrun said tonelessly.

"He died while in your stronghold," Lyra reminded him. "Allowing him to die is the same as killing him. However, it is unlike you to allow someone to die in the afflicted manner he was rumored to have been killed by. Poison, no? More cowardly than I would imagine."

He gazed at her, trying to read her. But she had never looked more honest, more lovely, since the time he had signed her quietus est and asked her to leave. She had done so without a fuss, with a flippant smile on her face that showed nothing of her true emotions. He somehow envied that side of her, although he did not desire it in himself or anyone else.

"But you told me so many times," Lyra said quietly, "That you would do anything to ensure my protection. I know, of course, that the person you were whispering to wasn't me-Lyra Delphius. I have allowed my hair to grow long again, to my waist- see? But during that time, I kept it much shorter for you. Now that we are no longer under my contract, I will ask the question I dared not to ask for three years. Who is that person?"

Athrun shook his head. "You are perceptive indeed. But I cannot say."

"I know, however," Lyra murmured, "What the name is. And it is an important one, although I have not left The Isle or received any news for eighteen years. I suspect the name will be a secret to the end, unless you tell me of it. And I wish to know."

The sea pounded beyond them, and he stared into her eyes.

She smiled beguilingly, and perhaps by force of habit, traced his lips with the fingers still placed over them. She did this like a lover or mother would, although she was clearly not. And it was all unintentional that she had put on an attractive pastel dress that he understood, was clearly not at all what she was used to. She did not close her eyes, because she was not expecting a kiss. She did not move closer, because she was not expecting his embrace. But something in him recalled the way she had presented herself to others when she'd met them- the way they surrounded her like courtiers circling their queen. Without saying a word, without being overtly coy- she was Lyra, the one person people were not prone to forgetting.

Athrun had known then, immediately, that if Lyra Delphius had been born in a better family, she would have become a queen in her own rights. How fickle Fate was, that the intelligence, beauty and the heart she possessed were put in a single, tortured girl. She had been born a princess, died as a mere child and reincarnated as a captivating, soulless, and somehow very jaded woman. All on this Isle.

He looked at her, admiring her more than he had ever done so in his time with her. He had essentially been a fool, unlike Lyra, Lyra who always knew what she was doing, how to control herself, how to take things as detachedly as she had always done for the whole of her life, the way life had forced her to do.

"What will you do?" Athrun said soberly. "Tell Greyfriar of this?"

And Lyra scoffed in that incredibly winsome manner he remembered of her each time he asked what she needed. "Tell him? Of course not. He would think I was involved with you and his affairs, which I have mostly no idea about. Isn't there a saying that sleeping dogs must be allowed to lie? When he does, he snores like thunder, according to Herliose, and I do not wish to be involved with so weathered and unpleasant a person."

Her eyes twinkled, and they laughed for one moment. Greyfriars was ultimately a dangerous person, embittered by his loss, but a strong and nearly invincible warrior precisely because he had nothing to lose.

Athrun cleared his throat. "Are you disappointed that I cannot tell you anything?"

She shrugged. "I half-expected it. But I had hoped, at very least. No matter. I came mostly because I wanted to see your face. You have grown out your hair. When I first met you- even when I left, you had it short, at the upper limit of your neck. It is below your ears now, like how I've seen it to be in one of your old photographs with that boy, the boy with the brown hair and quiet eyes."

Smiling thinly, Athrun looked at her. "Some things don't change. You survive anywhere in this world."

She looked sad for a second, but it was gone in the next, because she would never lose the edge and defensive side of her. "Madame Chanteuse taught me that. But enough of the past. I will leave now, and I believe I will not see you for quite some time. I am busy- I own a small flower shop, thanks to you, and business has been good. Morbidly so."

"Yes," Athrun said morosely. "Funeral wreaths and the planting of saplings in the newly-allocated graveyards. Your business thrives on part celebration and part mourning. But in the recent years, it has been the latter type of business, I'm afraid."

Lyra showed no change in expression. "Yes. Only a week ago, I sent an entire bower of lilies to that man's grave. But Corriolis had it coming, did he not? His compatriots requested for those. And red clovers, of course. Those seem to be popular with Greyfriars and his men, although I cannot imagine why they would want a flower that is so commonly found on this coast. But the customers like to stay to chat- they are always welcome for a cup of tea. The flowers, I think, are secondary. And I have you to thank."

She leant forward and kissed him lightly on his cheek, affectionately and merrily casual in the way her eyes were tender. She never took herself too seriously, and he had appreciated that about her.

"I will go now," She said mildly, and he did not turn to look at her retreating figure.

The wind blew a little more, and the clouds threaten to darken but did not until an hour later. And in the relentless wind, the yellow heads of the flowers she'd planted bent, small and nearly insignificant in their light weights, but they did not break at all. They were too hardy for that.

She treaded her way carefully, to the paths that lay beyond him now. She would marry a man who was innocent and pure. He would treat her well and she would love him entirely, love him as entirely as he did for her. And then the scars would begin to fade and the flower-shop would be filled with little old women who bought roses to bake in cakes and young lovers asking for bright colored flowers, lovers who did not know how else to please each other. She'd offer them an interested listening ear and some tea, perhaps, instead of novenas and condolences. Rune Estragon did not buy flowers from her. But he had bought her freedom, and that had been more than what the flower-shop and she was worth. He did not like to admit that- instinctively she knew this. But she knew he was aware of this, and it made her all the more indebted to him.

Lyra's footsteps were not heard in the howl of the grieving winds as he lost himself to the thoughts flowing through his head

His eyes fixed themselves on the sea.

He never looked back to watch her.

There hadn't been a need to at that point.

* * *

4 months 25 days


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

The time she had spent here in this room was terrible. Each day was like a grain of sand in an hourglass, seeping through a narrow, glass waist, deposited into a small, but increasingly large pile of wasted days. The calendar was outdated- she'd given up tearing days off.

The stranger in the mirror was her. Long hair, a bit untrimmed, a bit dull. Her face, a bit waxen, eye rings a little obvious, mouth twisted like she didn't recognise herself.

The only upside to the ordeal was Epstein, who had not arrived yet. And of course, there was her captor's consideration towards her- the care Rune Estragon lavished on her was exceptional, even more than what Cagalli had back in Orb.

But then, that was because she had the power to decide what she wanted in Orb, which included her personal space and a rather empty house. Here, she had no choice whatsoever.

The maids were busying themselves with tea while she sat still on a chair, trying not to get in their way. Now and then, they would block the mirror on the vanity, and she prayed that when she could look fully into it, things would have changed.

So every now and then, she snuck a look at the glass across her. But nothing ever changed even as the reflection of the maids bustled across its clear surface.

"Where is your master?" Cagalli said reluctantly. She was afraid to ask, but eager to know, all while aware that it was unlikely for them to reveal this. She wondered why she cared to ask about someone was trying to forget.

"I'm afraid they can't tell you, even if they did know." Another voice said.

Cagalli lifted her eyes as Epstein entered her room. He was a tapering silhouette against the stone walls, and she thought of Jervie from Daddy Long Legs. His young, raw-scrubbed face had a hare's bright eyes, intelligent, fetching and very curious.

She had no resentment towards him whatsoever. How could she, when he was her only friend here? The irony being, of course, that she did not trust the doctors or the maids, but trusted her captor's right hand man.

"Leave us." He said to the maids, who looked hesitant, but bowed and left silently. They did not dare disobey him.

She looked at him, wondering if the youth in his face was a reflection of his age or his nature.

"I brought some port and glasses." He said cheerfully, holding them up. "Forget the boring old tea."

She laughed, leaning back. "Will that spice up another day here? We speak of the same things every day, don't we? What can we do with our free time, of which I have plenty and you have little?"

"We'll talk of interesting things then," Epstein said obligingly. "Whatever you want to talk about."

"I want to know more about you then." Cagalli said boldly.

Epstein however, had learnt the ways of his master. He gazed at her with an unreadable, even reassuring ease. But she sensed danger, how his eyes did not blink as they watched her. "I'll tell you what I can."

Which meant that he would tell her next to nothing. Rune Estragon had taught this man-child how to tell a story, leaving out parts that were more important than the story itself. Typical. Athrun had always been a good teacher, a rare talent in a man who learnt very fast and very well.

"Come," Epstein said steadily, perhaps sensing her thoughts, "I'll do my best to amuse you and keep you company."

A small, angry smile escaped her control.

"As your master instructed?"

"Yes and no. I want to, you see." He took her hand and patted it in hers, in an avuncular manner. She took her hand away and turned, irritated. She did not want a kind uncle cum babysitter in lieu of that damned person.

He sensed her hesitation. "I'll tell you things about myself and him to make time pass quicker. How's that?"

Her eyes flew back to his, and she saw triumph in his smile. He was baiting her.

She wondered why she was allowing herself to be baited. And the answer was clear to her in his knowing smile. For Cagalli could not leave without having information, be it her location, if there was a route out of here, or who held the keys to the house.

It struck her then, that she had asked the wrong questions in exchange for her kiss, questions about the place. In order to leave The Isle, she should have asked questions about her captor.

For now, she would have to play by ear. In her mind, she could only think of Athrun and how his kiss had been needy, impatient and passionate. She did not know what to think of him, only that her heart was aching for something beyond her.

"Alright." She agreed. "I'll admit it. I'm curious. Tell me about yourself, and him."

"Ah." He said slyly. "That's provided you tell me about yourself first."

She hesitated again. She recalled what Rune Estragon had said.

'There is a price to everything here on The Isle.'

So she nodded.

Any price was worth it, if she could leave this place and stay away from that man. She paid a kiss for information. Surely, her time and some memories, which she had plenty of, would be a low price for Epstein's information.

Besides, what more could they know about her that they didn't already?

They spoke of her childhood in the deserts and Orb, and she tried to be as vague as possible, afraid that the information was more valuable than she realised, afraid that it would be used against her. But Epstein was obliging and an astute listener, as well as a good companion, and she found herself opening up to him.

Yet, when she'd turned the questions on him, he became guarded. He shielded himself, however, so subtly that she scarcely realised this at all, what with the way he sat and smiled at her. His teacher had taught him well.

Cagalli was gazing at Epstein and her eyes were wide. Her tea was untouched.

"So you don't know who your parents are?"

"No." He said mildly. He looked pleasantly at her, not bothering to elaborate.

Erlich Hoffman had been a gurgling toddler when his mother had returned to the Plants. Of course, his father had been rather upset, but a divorce had been imminent from the point of the marriage. It helped that Erlich's father wasn't the man that his mother had married. Of course, Erlich never knew who his father was until he received a classified folder of who his mother had been.

"Then where did you live as a child?" Cagalli pressed.

Whatever the case , Erlich had been carted from orphanage to orphanage in Berlin. Something of his father had been destroyed by his marriage to Erlich's mother, and the man had never recovered from the shock of realising that his son was another man's. Of course, Erlich's mother still arrived for her biannual visits at the orphanage, bringing him a cake and clothes he wore proudly amongst the ugly gingham uniform the other children wore. And for a boy of four, that had been enough. Then the visits stopped and his father didn't bother taking over where his mother had left off.

The boy always felt himself to be superior- he still had a father didn't he? But the man got himself killed in some accident or some bar-brawl where the lager was strong. So Erlich sank into general obscurity, celebrating his birthday with a small picture of his mother and a boy with honey-brown hair and smiling blue eyes.

"I lived with a distant relative." Epstein remarked offhandedly, taking a sip of his tea. He surveyed her, setting down his glasses that he wore.

He vaguely distrusted her, despite liking her and possibly, being rather attracted to her. Of course, there was slight dislike as well- she was a competitor for Athrun's attention, but he was reasonable enough to accept this.

The Orb princess looked at him curiously, and he fought back a smile. "Did you like it?"

"Yes and no," Epstein admitted. "Every place has its good and bad memories."

She nodded, agreeing thoroughly.

He enjoyed taking on bullies who were twice his size, sporting blue-blacks but often inflicting equal or greater damage on the others. He had been educated sufficiently well, because the nuns at the orphanage were adept at using arithmetic tables and Tickler, the communal cane. Erlich enjoyed arithmetic to the point that the nuns sent for Father O'Casey and he had privileged lessons. By this time, Erlich was nine and according to the Father, "Too big a fish for too small a pond."

"So when did you start working for Rune Estragon?" Cagalli said suddenly.

Epstein grinned. "Well." He paused, allowing the silence to continue for a bit as he collected his thoughts. "It wasn't my first job."

They had sent him off to work as a shop-boy, and he rather enjoyed taking stock and pilfering from the sacks of prunes. But then, he had been adopted by the shopkeeper, and the Fraulein Martha, who scarcely seemed young enough to be addressed as such, liked seeing her shop-boy well-fed.

By this time, Erlich had forgotten about most of his life at the orphanage. That period hadn't been particularly unhappy, but it had certainly been a lull amidst an already monotonous existence. As a young boy, he'd tutored the other children in their weaker subjects. Coupled with his extraordinary athletic abilities, it became exceedingly obvious that Erlich was not a Natural.

The fraulein was a widow and she liked children, going as close as to spoling Erlich. But when she found a man who wanted to marry her, Epstein was terrified. Fredyrick Murdstone was had an appearance of wasted youth and a faint handsomeness that became a splotchy red rage in his frequent, drunken stupors.

One night, when he picked up a meat chopper and chased the nine-year old Erlich around the house, Erlich decided to save them all the trouble and ran away. This was hardly uncommon in Berlin- as far as he could reason, Epstien was still superior to the waifs who surrounded tourist and pick pocketed them.

But after starving for three days, he found employment and a good pay in a small, sex shop somewhere in the tourist traps of Munich. The shopkeeper hadn't had objections to him working after he promised to work hard, so Erlich was ensured off three hot meals and a roof over his head. The nine year old amused himself for hours, re-reeling old tapes of nubile, young girls pouting at the camera.

His employer was a hearty, comically-goateed man whose girth exceeded the young boy's by more than three times. And Herr Boniface had been surprised when a mere child had arrived with the notice he'd put up, but the boy was gifted at taking stock and calculating at demonic speeds.

"So what did you do for your first job?" Cagalli asked.

"Stock keeping, you could call it."

Boniface had noticed that Erlich had a knack for organisation, and came to rely on his worker to arrange the stock into neat rows. The little shop had never looked so cheery before, with its mended curtains, newly-polished brass door handles, and the new light bulbs that showed the boy's restructuring of the place.

Boniface had been delighted at the impeccable, alphabetical arrangement of the lubricants, video tapes, and best of all, the organisation of whips by the material, leather, hemp, then cloth. He promptly offered the boy higher wages, which Erlich gladly accepted, above lodging in a small backroom, and free weekends.

"I worked in a necessities shop," He said vaguely, "Filled with things that people needed."

If they were into bondage and a colourful sex life, then why, yes.

"Like potatoes and soap and that sort of thing?" Cagalli echoed.

"Oh," Epstein smiled. "Why, yes. And then the First war disrupted my job."

She nodded, believing whatever he let her believe. But he had been affected by the First War very minimally.

When the First War struck the Earth Alliance, Germany sent its children to the underground shelters. By a strange twist, the sex shop was a bomb shelter, and Erlich found dozens of children picking up bottles and asking what this and that was for. He told them rather straightforwardly, resulting in oohs and aahs everywhere, until a frazzled looking Boniface insisted that he kept his mouth shut.

And then, after a month, it was over. The First war came and went, and for a nine year old, nothing seemed to have changed. The town centre had been bombed a little, but reparations were on its way, and business was better than ever.

Erlich was convinced that the young children had gone home and advertised the quality wares to their parents. The corsets were in unprecedented demand. And Boniface, coughing slightly, could not disagree.

"And the Second war?" Cagalli questioned. "What were you doing at that time?"

"Trying to live," He said sincerely.

The Second war happened in the same way, and Erlich was far too absorbed in the emptiness of his general living to care. He watched as politicians argued over whether they would send men to the war front or not. But he preferred watching footage of those gigantic killing machines, the beauty of their lines, the way the mobile suits slammed into each other.

A boy was old enough to enlist as a clerk, but Boniface balked at the idea of Erlich becoming anything remotely linked to the war. Boniface did not want a boy who was like a son to him going off to fight a war that did not know what it was fighting for.

Erlich couldn't be bothered either- he was far too busy sorting out the storeroom's garbled mess of feather boas and other equipment that Boniface had not gotten to for years.

"I suppose I have had a rather normal life," He laughed, cutting the cake on his plate into half.

She winked at him. "I wouldn't say so. You probably had quite a few experiences that are equivalent to the most exciting things in the world."

"You may be right," Epstein shrugged, smiling at his master's captive.

So Erlich lived a rather fascinating life after all. He liked to watch customers shuffle in embarrassedly, poke around at the wares, and look awkward when he offered to help.

Once, an old man tried to grope him, Boniface threw the man out and yelled German that Erlich didn't even understand or speak. Erlich didn't even mind when women squealed at his smooth, white face and pinched his cheeks. In fact, he rather enjoyed their attention, and they tipped him well and taught him different languages.

When he practised it at dinner time, asking if Boniface wanted more of this or that dish, as Erlich assumed, Boniface nearly had an epileptic fit. So Erlich was forbidden to practise the French and Italian that the customers taught him.

They were a strange pair, living each day by, counting the day's profits, eating hot mash, watching their favourite cartoons by the flickering telly, surrounded by the new arrivals- life-sized dolls. The boy amused the Boniface by chasing the flies away by flicking a long, black leather whip, although Erlich didn't understand what his adopted father was laughing at then.

He lived in a haze of contentment and dim light, studying the books Boniface found from somewhere on political science and world history, enjoying the discussion on gender inequalities with a few female regulars who seemed to smile secretly at everything he said.

And Erlich had few friends, save the familiar faces he recognised, the lady with electric blue eye shadow, the man who twirled his moustache nervously, the young girls who had laughed at him once but tried to kiss him nowadays, and Aunt Rhoda who ordered everything in bulk.

That had been until Plant had sent for him.

"Wait," Cagalli said suddenly. "And then you enlisted in Zaft and became affiliated with him?"

"Why," Epstein paused, wondering if half-truths were better or blatant lies easier. "Why, yes."

He had told the entire truth, but it was obscured for both their sakes.

When Erlich had gone to Zaft, he had never quite understood the procedures, except that Boniface had cried all night and Erlich could not sleep with the prospect of sitting in a shuttle and going to a place smack right middle in space.

He was going to Zaft- the notion of that was too strange and so seductive. He would have a uniform, two sets of standard wear, a bottle of shoe-polish, and like the hundreds of others who received this, would belong to a platoon. The point was that he would belong.

After all, he was a coordinator.

He spent the next two years in Aprilius, completing his education in a top school and going on to university modules. Although he was intelligent, his learning in Berlin had been lax and the children in Plant had learnt at much faster paces than he.

So within these years, Erlich learnt how to shoot, knife the cloth dummy, and hack into computer systems. Around him, the war was going on, dying and starting again, until the colossal fight that ended the war- the Messiah. At that time, Erlich had his first girlfriend, so he barely bothered.

He had lost his virginity at twelve, having stumbled into a party, thanks to his friends' insistence that he live a little as a young adult coordinator. His reputation preceded him far too much- Tommy had told the girl that Erlich had worked in a sex shop for a few years, and the girl had expected too much.

He had decided that he did not like the experience of booze, nor the smoke he blinked through rather pathetically. The truck's backseat had been too cramped for two, and he had been dazed throughout the entire experience.

After that, he had rarely looked at girls who spoke loudly and wore too much makeup. But overall, Erlich had a few friends and his life was decidedly quite enjoyable.

Sometimes, he wondered why his parents had been such letdowns, but then he decided not to care. He spoke with a stutter at times, trembling from the shouting of his officers, but he was fit and ready to serve.

An officer named Trine was particularly kind to him, enquiring about his health and his life, but Erlich never spoke to him much, deciding that another avuncular character in his life was unnecessary.

Erlich was tall for his age, and in Plant, found that his maturity that seemed strange for a thirteen year old was common here. In the Plant, thirteen year olds were adults, but he still watched with amazement as Fainey, his bunkmate, got engaged to a girl who looked a little like a customer Erlich had once served.

Now, Cagalli leaned back in her chair, surveying him, unable to see what flashed in his mind. "How did you find Zaft?"

"Good," He said casually. "I wasn't in the thrust of war, so it was good."

Sometimes, Erlich woke up in the night, hours too early for the morning march, and wondered what the hell was going on. The barracks had many of such people like him, stranded and collected again after the second war, orphaned, adventurous and a bit displaced.

"It was good to get along with everyone else." He explained to Cagalli.

His superiors looked at him with strange eyes even though he never did more than get along with every body else. But better the odd stare without any explanation than trawling Berlin's streets as an urchin.

"I see." She said briefly, watching him with the eyes he thought were very strange and beautiful. "And how did you meet your master?"

"He needed a personal assistant." Epstein said quietly. "I was available for the job. And that was all."

When he was fourteen, he was unexpectedly called into his squad leader's office and he stared at the person sitting in the visitor's chair. Uncomfortably, he shuffled into the office, feeling like regular scum after an afternoon's worth of physical conditioning.

"At ease." His superior told him, and Erlich had dropped his hand, staring at the other person in the office. The visitor never even returned his salute- he merely lifted his eyes to Erlich, coolly surveying him, drinking tea with beautiful manners Erlich had grown unaccustomed to seeing.

"I see." Cagalli said again, only her eyes visible above her teacup rim, and Epstein knew that she did not really see. "So you both met in Zaft as colleagues."

"You could say that."

The man had looked like a civilian in his dark suit and tie, well-dressed and formal without the stiffness of one who served Zaft. That was fine, except that Erlich recognised him- the civilian had served Zaft before.

This man was young, approaching middle-age by Coordinator standards, actually, but well, sociologists were still disputing the matter of the coordinator-adult. Whatever it was, his eyes were old, alert but old. Recollections of war reports, the names of Zaft's top aces and mobile suit numbers flashed by in his head.

On that warm, slightly stifling day which seemed as routine as the others, Athrun Zala had arrived for Erlich Hoffman. And one month later, Erlich Hoffman was re-christened as Epstein Cleamont.

"I thought it would be a good experience to become his personal assistant once I graduated from Zaft," Epstein elaborated.

For a person like him, adventure and revenge was the only way to live. Athrun Zala was his parent in name and in person- a person Epstein was drawn to despite his reservations. The man was a very gentle person, fair and patient as a teacher, loving as a father despite their ages, and very protective of him.

"Really?" Cagalli said, a strange expression on her face. "What have you learnt from him?"

"A lot," He told her sincerely. "Too much to elaborate on."

Epstein learnt a great deal of things from a man who did not and could not even trust himself. But the love Epstein had for his father was not known to himself until five years ago. Athrun had stayed on The Isle for his sake. These sacrifices Athrun had made for him were countless and burdened Epstein with guilt.

But he had found a way to repay Athrun after all.

She was looking at him with doubt. "Too much to elaborate on?"

He looked at the woman sitting before him. She was the key to everything.

"Why, not at all. I was just looking for a change of topic. Tell me more about Orb."

* * *

The streets, a hundred and thirty storeys beneath them, were dots of pretty colour. The world seemed to be made of thin air and high altitudes at this point. Today was a single day of some festival. The mask-stands boasted colours he had admired while watching from the window of the car. Somewhere below them, a child was pestering his mother to buy him a fragrant, maple-cream snack. But there was only business now- the streets were far beneath him.

Athrun sat down in the lone chair that the men had placed in the centre of the room. He did not watching the man's upturned face turn ashen. He crossed his legs delicately. The kneeling man, his arms held behind him, began to curse in his native tongue.

"Marubeni-san," Athrun said tonelessly. "The proposal was and is rather fair."

There was an ominous entendre in his words.

As if to prove his point, the shadows grew longer, their faces halved by these. Outside, the streets were bustling, and he gazed towards the windows at the far end. A magnificent view of the architecture in the centre of the business district. Of course, it looked somewhat like Eiffel Tower at this altitude, but at the street level, it was impressive with its sheer magnitude.

The man snarled before him, tussling violently, but Harumi's men were very strong. She was standing next to Athrun, and she smiled winningly at him. "I told you he was a stubborn one."

He watched her, noting that the smile did nothing to remove the reptilian glaze of her eyes.

"Estragon," The man was trembling, speaking haltingly without the comfort zones of his native language. "I'll do anything for you, but don't ask me to sell the company."

Athrun stared at him, his expression growing wintry. "I've made offers that were more than reasonable."

They looked at Tetsuya Marubeni. His great lump of a forehead shone with the large wet beads trickling down. His jowls quivered in agony.

Harumi, petite and bloodthirsty, shook her head. "Estragon, he's a greedy one. Don Mittall agreed at the first price you set, but not Marubeni. And Mittall Steel is certainly far more profitable than the shell of what Marubeni Corporations used to be."

"Thank you," He said simply, and she grew quiet. He focused on the man kneeling before him, and tapped his chin with a finger, thinking.

"If I buy over the oil companies, ten percent higher," Athrun said evenly, "Would you sell it? Of course, I do not need to remind you that your companies have been operating at a loss for five years already. Add to that the externalities the government will soon make you pay for, these are already nearing bankruptcy. And you have a score to settle with the patent-owners you've been disregarding. Add to that, the inefficiency of your production chain. Why not sell it while it's worth something?"

The man was spewing obscenities. "I won't sell Marubeni Corporations!"

In a flash, Harumi drew her sword, wiping it, and re-sheathed it. A second later, there was a scream that shook the air. Obscenities in a language Athrun did not fully grasp were scattered in the air, but the tone was unmistakeable. Pain was universal. She had moved so quickly that Athrun scarcely noticed what she had done, save the drops that were growing on his sleeve. He looked at his sleeve with narrowed eyes.

"But you promised," She said coyly. "See?"

Something splattered on the floor, and there was a silence that followed, save the gradual whimpers and increasingly louder sobs. Marubeni's severed pinky lay like a worm after the rain, on the carpet.

Athrun refused to look at Harumi, knowing that she would have read him from his eyes.

He turned back to the whimpering man, feeling sorry for him. "Please agree and let us treat the wound."

"You bastard!" the man wheezed. He seemed to be leaking oil and blood as he shook with fear and pain and hatred. The odious, gold rings on his hands shone dully. "Are you going to sew my finger back? Kitani Harumi! I'm your uncle!"

"It can be done," Athrun said calmly, as Harumi's expression turned slightly, almost imperceptible churlish with glee.

She took a step forward, her robes moving slightly. Her henchmen were all outside the boardroom, and yet, she was capable of killing as many as she wished while all thirty of guarded the entrance.

Her dark hair was pinned up with an ornate gold pin and blood-red coral pieces for the festival. She bent down and said something he couldn't understand, but Marubeni could. His eyes widened and he began to gag and choke in an induced epileptic fit. Her voice was deep, sultry, even, and guttural in its rich articulation. Then satisfied, she stood up and moved back to Athrun's side.

"Done." She said easily. "Sold. But you must thank me. I've gotten you a bargain." Her face looked brutal in its efficient simplicity, the eyes slits and the mouth a red scar, plump and vicious. "Free."

"What did you tell him?" Athrun said, out of curiosity.

She looked at him, her face beautiful. She had surgically removed the scar near her forehead a month ago, making the face the Noh mask it was again. Her eyes were liquid obsidian, the white teeth sharp behind the red, painted lips. "Nothing in particular."

He stood up, not caring to look at the sobbing man. "Send someone in to fix him up."

She nodded at one of the men. He stepped forward, gangly, hunched and thin but very strong, and gripped Marubeni's head by the hair, upwards, the eyes behind the dark glasses as emotionless as his letterbox mouth. The outward gesture of violence made Athrun look away.

Harumi brought her hands together, bowing, her flapping sleeves swinging. A sign of respect towards him. It seemed almost like she was mocking him, but he knew that she did not appreciate sarcasm.

Before he stepped out, he turned back to her, frowning. "I don't approve of your methods."

She straightened up, no clear expression but a sneer in her eyes. "This is my territory. As long as I am alive, the underworld is mine. You wanted the oil corporations, and now you have it. Marubeni though, has been trying to establish power that belongs to me. No? So it is our matter, a private one that I will settle."

He kept his silence, watching with some pity.

She turned back to Athrun and smiled, tilting her head in that pretty manner. He looked at her, deciding what to say.

Then he bowed, in her custom, and left.

Her henchmen bowed in a corridor of bent bodies, dark suits like moths aligning the cloth of the carpet, and he left. He must have looked like one of them in his own dark suit. It looked like a funeral in the narrow corridor, the smell of ink and air freshener trailing after them as his shadow marched before him.

As he stepped out of the building, the receptionist smiled at him. He glanced at her name tag, although this was more a habit than a necessity. She looked like a young, fashionable girl with silver hoop earrings and dyed hair, her uniform sporting the Marubeni logo. But they both knew had probably been sent in as early as Rune Estragon had decided that Marubeni Corporations were to be bought over.

The receptionist greeted him with what he recognised as a morning greeting in her tongue.

Naturally, he returned it out of courtesy. "Ohaiyo."

Almost conspiratorially, she bent forward and her eyes twinkled.

He nodded stiffly.

So he watched as she laughed suggestively. The board behind her reflected an electronic system of reminders and London and New York's time. The phone records showed a dozen calls from the chairman's office, all probably requesting for security.

And of course, her desk registered a dozen missed calls. There was nobody to see the call board either, or to respond. They were all wearing dark suits, lining the hallways of the top level, waiting for their mistress to finish her business meeting. The people working here were either Harumi's, or people who were warned to leave the building as Harumi had entered with her entourage.

The girl looked interestedly at him, but he moved away fairly quickly. He did not like to mix with Harumi's henchmen, even if this one was a very attractive girl.

Thus, when Athrun stepped out of the massive building, nobody would have guessed that Marubeni Corporations was not a building anyone could simply enter. He was so unassuming, so average, so absolutely normal.

Athrun did not bother to gaze up as its steeple impaled the clouds. He might have been blinded by the glare of light that cast itself against Marubeni Corporations' headquarters.

The procession danced like a red and gold chameleon, a strange blend of tradition amidst the urban settings. Girls wearing thigh-high boots with soles the width of a large sponge cake careened, their dyed hair gaudy and eye-catching.

One girl produced a cell and put it to her ear, the phone strap and toy larger than the phone itself. Her scarf had something like the emblem of pistols knitted into it.

He stared, feeling the cold slab of metal in his own coat pocket.

Some school boys ran past him, lassoing their blazers, one knocking slightly into him and its owner apologising in a hurried, laughing voice. They compared notes and then flung it into the air, shouting that the examinations were screwed up anyway. There were street performers screaming their songs into megaphones and electric guitars screaming louder than their players.

Athrun ignored them all.

He walked at a steady pace, alone but at ease with himself and the world. He stopped by a quaint but renowned sweet shop and emerged a little while later. A box in his right hand held the maple-leaf shaped cakes that Epstein had a weakness for. He smiled at the shopkeeper next door and picked out pretty hairpins for Cartesia and Laplacia- he got a bargain from the female shopkeeper.

A passer-by, hurrying home, stopped and stared at the person who crossed the street, noting the man's midnight coloured hair and pale skin. A group of youngsters with the rainbow spectrum of hair colours were talking loudly.

They passed by, with their outlandish clothes that somehow fit the neon surroundings, their multiple piercings glinting in the sun.

The passer-by wondered if the man he saw belonged to this group. But the man with the midnight hair had already crossed the road, his height swallowed by the crowds on the other side of the lines.

So the passer-by registered only this man's profile without comprehending the face.

And thus, nobody really quite noticed Athrun Zala standing, smack in the centre of the crowded crossroads, right in the middle of Tokyo.

* * *

Coughing his laughter, Epstein beamed at Cagalli.

She was clapping her hands softly in her mirth, swaying slightly in the seat, her eyes tearing with laughter.

He laughed just as openly, enjoying her equally spontaneous show of humour.

Bawdy jokes tickled most men but made women snobby with upturned noses. Not this one. If he had started out as cordial but distant towards her, he was utterly charmed by her now.

She was unlike any other woman he'd seen, as charismatic as conniving salesman, but lovely and pure like a child. And her beauty was breathtaking the first time but it developed into something else the more one studied her. He knew that she was often compared to Lacus Clyne.

But they were very different women, and this one seemed to be a war hforse, golden and magnificent, unlike Senator Clyne, a mild, snow-white dove.

The clematis flowers that he'd brought her were a pretty pink splotch on the chocolate tones of the wood. Their tea things lay there and the cakes were half-eaten. She looked around in surprise, for there was a chocolate mousse that she could not possibly swallow a mouthful of.

He cast an eye over her. She was a little pale, slightly peaky even. But the sparkle in her eyes had fooled him for a second.

Cagalli was very pretty, he noted. Those fine features and the slight haughtiness but open warmth in her face made her quite attractive. No wonder his master had once been taken with her.

He had often asked Athrun what Cagalli was really like in his younger days, the way a child would question his father on a mother he'd never known. Of course, Athrun never replied, and if he did, he would mention vague things about Orb's politics and things that never really answered Epstein's questions.

And Epstein had learnt to forgo his curiosity five years ago, after silently watching his master punch the wall with a bleeding fist over and over again. It had left thin white scars even after the shattered fist had healed. Athrun had begun wearing gloves after that, but he revealed nothing.

It had angered Epstein that Athrun told him so little. Sometimes, he felt as if Athrun did not trust him enough. But he was sure that the Orb Princess had something to do with his master- he never mistrusted his instincts.

He watched balefully as Cagalli poured tea for him. She was chattering away, glad to see him.

Of course, there was a familiarity he had always felt with her. He half-despised her for it- the way she put him at ease, the way she could put Athrun at ease.

Good grief. He was jealous of her, but he was starting to wonder what it would feel like to put his arms around her and kiss her. She did not notice his thoughts and continued what she was saying, though nary a word got through.

"I suppose you entertain your master like this, all the time?"

"He'd be horrified if he heard me telling lewd jokes," Epstein grinned. "He's a very proper person, a gentleman. He would avoid hearing anything vaguely demeaning to women, I suspect.

The mention of Rune Estragon made her eyes dark in cynicism, and he noticed this.

But she did not say anything more. Abruptly, she drank her tea.

Behind them, Cartesia and Laplacia waited with trays of more desserts.

"Rune Estragon is a good person," Epstein said, picking up on her discomfort and goading her with it. "He would never hurt anyone he cares for."

She looked sharply at him. "Are you sure about that?"

"Very." Epstein said, signalling to the maids that they should leave.

They bowed and pattered out. He stared at Cartesia- her arm sported a bandage. Laplacia, on the other hand, looked tired and wan. Of course, they'd given Cagalli excuses, falling down, things like that.

But he knew that they had been training even more aggressively these few days. He shook his head inwardly.

He refocused on Cagalli, noting the frustration in her face.

Cagalli blew her fringe out of eyes. "Epstein, why do you work for Rune Estragon?"

He sat back, looking directly at her, unable to keep the frostiness from his voice. "He's a benefactor."

"Surely," She said in a hushed voice. "There are other ways to repay a person? This job you are doing isn't simple."

Epstein surveyed her with some sadness. He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking of a suitable reply.

It struck her, although not for the first time, that he didn't look older than twenty. But she couldn't tell either. He was almost as tall as Athrun, and he might have been seventeen or thirty.

A man-child, and she was attracted to him. She ached to see a familiar face, and with Epstein, she thought of Kira. His face was very young, his eyes large and a lovely blue next to the peach skin. She wondered if he had a sweet tooth and was prone to worrying, like Kira.

He did not catch hold onto any of her wayward thoughts. "He's worried about you. That's why he instructed me to come. But I'd come, even if he didn't ask me to."

She smiled, grateful and pleased.

All those were his master's orders- keep her company. But he enjoyed meeting her, enjoyed seeing her face light up when he came to her. Together with the maids, they spent long, happy hours on their stomachs, betting on all sorts of things with dice.

Epstein found that Cagalli had a knack for such vices- blackjack, poker, just plain betting, she would emerge the winner.

Now, he teased her on it. "How much have you lost these days?"

She grinned. "I didn't lose. I won Laplacia's apron."

"And that's worth such a lot," He said cheekily. "How is she going to live without her apron? She won't be able to wash, cook, clean, good lord- that valuable apron!"

She shrugged. "She won an emerald bracelet."

This time, Epstein did gasp. "Good god! The one you were wearing the other day?"

Cagalli squinted. "The emerald one? Well, yes. Why?"

"D'you know how much that's worth?" He said in shock.

"Oh come," She laughed airily. "Live a little. Besides, it's not mine."

"And you gambled it still! It was a gift from my master!"

She frowned. "I don't need it. And Laplacia liked it. I could see."

"Girls generally like that sort of thing." Epstein said pointedly. He wondered why she saw no value in the baubles his master picked personally for her. The other women certainly had.

"I know."

"Then why'd you gamble that?"

"I don't want anything he's giving me." Cagalli said abruptly, so suddenly that it sounded rude.

Epstein paused. "He's-,"

"I don't care what he thinks of me." Cagalli said fitfully. Her mood was changing again. "As long as he leaves me alone."

He paused. "What happened?"

She looked at him, her cheeks becoming rosy. "Nothing."

If she had seemed difficult with his master, now he found her irresistibly lovely.

She seemed younger than she really was, easily fooled and trusting, and he began to laugh and talk with her, banter as they argued over topics like gender inequality. Her sensitivity and intelligence was not numbed by the tranquilisers, as far as he was concerned.

He was drawn to her, and he wondered if she was a piece of him that had been taken away a very long time ago.

He had found himself visiting her at every opportunity he could find, just to talk to her and amuse her with anecdotes and jokes.

But today, he thought with some regret, he would not have to do so anymore. His master was coming back to The Isle.

* * *

_Five years ago, he had been driving along the sandy roads. Barely anyone drove by, save a sleepy truck driver who cut into his lane._

_He wondered if the sunrise would be early, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The road under the car was becoming bumpy- the road was contiguous to absolutely nothing in this coastal region. _

_Nothing grew well here, he reflected. Not even his faith in human nature, which certified him as a bit of a misanthropist. _

_The Cliffside was ill-suited for his car, or perhaps the other way around. It was his will against the environment. He spotted a tree branch extending from the shallower regions of brackish water, swirled around by the suspiciously violent currents. As he sped by, the branch took on the appearance of a hand, extended to heaven in a mute cry for mercy as the water swallowed it whole._

_He might have left The Isle. It was not impossible. _

_But now it was. He was disgusted with principals and moral goading- he loathed himself for being susceptible to both of these. He had rely on Sander, trusted him even._

_And he had watched, unable to articulate his grief, as their bodies were burnt to destroy evidence of their existence on The Isle. This would be his end as well. He could not leave The Isle until his end came. And then nobody would remember that he had ever set foot here. There was only one way to prevent this- succeed in this mission. And for that, he had to stay on._

_That day, he spotted belladonnas in pots, lining a small shop. He had forced his car to a halt and found himself in front of them, staring. Those were pretty flowers, as their name suggested. But the poison was a different thing altogether._

_Athrun did not care much for flowers, although he did appreciate the fresh beauty of blossoms. In this place, flowers were rare._

_Imported flowers were few and those that could be grown were hothoused and fed with fertilisers and not the normal sustenance of climate. This place was unsuitable for anything except brambles and red clovers. Those grew in abundance, but then he also cared very little for them. _

_His garden remained a wilderness, but he rarely entered that portion of the manor. He had not given orders for it to be aesthetically pleasing, and his protégés had little initiative when they were in the thick of their training._

_The town was mostly empty, almost as if The Isle existed only for him. But then, it might have been the fact that it was six in the morning. The sun's rays were only hinted of beyond the sea. This place was very the cliffs- too near, in fact. He pursed his lips, deciding what to do. Buying it up would cause suspicion, but if the owner was willing-,_

_He turned in, and spotted a brown bulk of a man's back. It was bent- probably watering the plants in front of him or something._

_Athrun peered to see, and then tapped the man, unsure of his identity. The man, or his bulk rather, turned, face scarred and toothless. Athrun swallowed his shock._

_He had asked the man politely, "Are you the shopkeeper? I'd like to speak to the- wha-?"_

_Abruptly, the man threw a punch at him and he ducked, just in time. And suddenly, he was hitting back while a flower pot smashed over their heads. _

_Then another flew over them, and chuckling, Athrun dodged while it hit the brute squarely in the forehead. The enormous chunk of a man bent over and knelt, smashing his jaw into the floor, effectively knocking himself out. _

"_Thank you," He called. The girl who had thrown the pots emerged from where the man had been crouching and blocking her from sight. She looked every part the distressed maiden that the blob had been threatening. _

_He stared. Hay-coloured hair with grey eyes that reflected a few other colours if given the right lighting. A bit peaky looking, but quite attractive._

_She did not thank him however, only looked frightened. "Stay away."_

"_Hallo." He said unsurely. She had a sort of face that was both impish and pretty, and her eyes were very distinctively grey. But he was staring at her because her voice was slightly husky and warm like she had a perpetual cold. Like Cagalli's._

_She had looked defiantly at him then. He felt something in him grow uncomfortable with the familiarity. _

"_You're one of them, are you?"_

"_One of whom?" He said, puzzled at the ambiguity._

"_The Madame's cronies. A pimp. Like this one." She gestured to the mass on the floor._

_He shook his head, although he was beginning to understand. Business often took him to Madame Chanteuse's, although being called a pimp was something else. _

_Had he seen this girl before? No. Surely not. He didn't like to indulge in that sort of thing, at Madame Chanteuse's. "Are you one of those girls who managed to buy their way out?"_

_She had looked apprehensive, like a threatened animal. "I don't want to have anything to do with Madame Chanteuse."_

"_I've visited." He said calmly. "And I've never seen you around. Who are you?"_

"_Lyra Delphius. I got out of there before I was auctioned." She said, stammering, reaching out to take a pot off a shelf, clutching it to her, as if she were planning to run away with it. "I convinced her that eighty percent of this shop's would more than cover the cost of rearing a whore who would eventually grow old and earn little."_

_She looked at him very suddenly, and her long blonde hair covered a little of her face, as if she didn't know why she was saying all this to him. Her hands were very small, that he noticed almost immediately. He stared at those, afraid to look at her face. Lyra Delphius- she was surely a native, who had no idea who he was or what he was doing here._

_Perhaps his intervention in Madam Chanteuse's thug's visit made her obliged to tell him something of her past._

_His eyes were still on her hands, and he felt strange. Something made him uncomfortable, the way she bit her words, the way her eyes were darting to his, away, staring at his suddenly in a way that arrested him, then flitting away again. _

"_I'm sorry to have caused the ruckus. Lyra." _

_She looked painfully shy, fiercely awkward but very pretty. _

_He tried to focus on picking up the broken pot, and thankfully, she let him. But that might have been because she was backing into a wall, watching him with those large, slightly almond-shaped eyes._

_He felt a horrible sense of déjà vu._

_He began to take a closer look at the shop. It looked almost make-shift, but the splashes of colour masked most of that. And a few pictures hung about, simple paintings of cliffs and the sea. So she painted._

_He grinned at her and she blushed, muttering something about the chilliness of the shop. _

_Silently, he handed his coat, and she shook her hands helplessly, her inability to articulate rather charming, and then she held it, her hands in it like a muff. Her long hair swung about like a fish tail, hay colour, a bit on the paler side of gold. He noticed this and pursed his lips._

_Then he remembered his purpose and frowned unconsciously. "Is this shop for sale?"_

_She looked at him with a horrified suspicion. The coat she was warming her hands in looked ready to be flung at him. _

_And her eyes were fearful but almost vicious in their fear, quite changing her thin face. He knew then, that she was going to be difficult to deal with. "You work with Madame Chanteuse, don't you? I knew it- You waltz inhere and you want me to sell this shop, and then you'll take me back there so she'll have both the shop and another whore- how much is she paying you to do this?"_

_And suddenly, Athrun lost the desire to care about the shop. He wanted to gain her trust._

_He shook his hands in self-defence, mirroring her discomfort a few moments ago. "No- I just thought that I-,'_

_His sudden awkwardness made her relax. Animals were like that, he reflected. They panicked easily, but then relaxed upon realising that the predator was possibly weaker than the pre._

"_It's still hers for now," Lyra added bitterly. "She takes all the profits for seven years."_

"_Why did you agree to this?" Athrun said in surprise. "It sounds like a pretty tough bargain. Nothing grows very well on this island." He trailed off and the ambiguity festered. "Anyway, it's rare that she lets one of her-, wards venture outside the- compound."_

_His euphemisms had precisely the opposite effect._

_She smiled sardonically. "I'm seventeen this year. I think you know Charles Purcell? A man named Greyfriars and others who I cannot remember, were looking for a new face to celebrate his birthday."_

_He nodded, thinking of the man that was slightly older than him, chiselled with a wasted, waxy handsome with the aggressive eyes and hard, cruel body. He had watched Purcell kill before- efficient and with a delight that sickened Athrun._

"_I was frightened when he hit Bonnie," She said numbly. "So when my turn came, I convinced Madame Chanteuse that I could make more money for her in other ways. Ways that didn't involve my virginity. I suppose that the plan worked too well for my own good- the demand for flowers is high and the price the blossoms fetch give her lots of money. I suppose she wants both the shop and a whore who works for her. It doubles the profit. So she's been sending her thugs to make me give up this shop. If you're one of them, you can go back and tell her that I will not."_

_He felt a surge of sympathy for her, but he shook his head inwardly, trying to be as impersonal as possible. _

_She was staring at him, and he thought that Madame Chanteuse had probably made a wrong business investment. This place couldn't be earning as much as this girl potentially could- long, soft hair and limpid, expressive eyes with a passionate mouth. And she was dressed decently, non-descript even, but she was young, nubile and probably worth paying for._

"_I'm not her thug," He insisted, suddenly even more eager to make her trust him. _

_He looked at the shop, its cramped but cosy parameters and the flowers that were arranged lovingly in their corners. He wondered where she lived. There were some sacks on the floor, and with growing disconcertment, he realised that she had no bed. She had been woken by that thug- he'd probably broken in. _

_The flowers made him look twice. Those were the finest he'd seen anywhere on The Isle. It was impossible for them to grow on most areas here. Nothing grew except spruce and red clovers. _

_She was probably growing the flowers in some patch of fertile soil she'd discovered. If the thugs realised this, they would destroy that patch and her livelihood._

_He said abstractly, "I just thought I'd come in and-,"_

"_Whatever it is," She interrupted, "You saved me from a scuffle. I could have done it without your help, but you did help me, and I thank you for that."_

_She lifted her head, as even fiercer and prouder because her shame lingered inwardly. Her eyes flashed as if daring him to say anything._

_He was forcibly reminded of Cagalli. _

"_I just came for some flowers." He said stiffly._

_She looked at him, her eyes appraising him and her lips slightly moist. There was something strange in them._

"_Take your pick."_

_Haplessly, he chose some belladonnas, irony of ironies. _

_Instead of paying up and getting the hell out of there, he made his decision._

_They spent an hour talking about the weather and every single thing that they could think of, testing each other, and getting to know each other. She was naïve but cunning in her own ways. In some ways, she was a dreamer who was mercenary when it came to achieving her dream, vicious because of her helplessness. _

_Whenever he smiled, she looked shy, looking at him through her long fringe. She was a child, and it was a pity that she had grown in a soiled, adult-dominated world. He paid, despite her protests. _

_The next few days passed and he sent her little presents, visiting and chasing away a few more thugs. They were always around when he appeared._

_He admired the fact that she was strong-willed and not as weak as she appeared- she'd given concussions to two of them with a particularly heavy pot of daffodils by sheer effort of will. They had tea once they'd pulled out the two unconscious men and left them outside the shop._

_Then two days later, he had appeared with a contract he'd obtained. It wasn't for her to sign- she didn't own the shop, Madame Chanteuse did. Or rather, Madame Chanteuse had._

_He told her that he wanted her to live with him, and if he had to buy the shop, he would. Of course, they both realised that he had bought her freedom from Madame Chanteuse in the process- paid more than what the little shop was worth, really. _

_He hadn't bothered haggling with the old shrew. She'd whined about how profitable Lyra could be, and he'd eventually convinced her that she was right- he paid for Lyra what half of Madame Chanteuse' girls would have brought in with ten years of hard labour._

_Lyra had slapped him, screaming that he had betrayed her, that he had pretended to be her friend, but was a pimp just like Madame Chanteuse. He knew then, that he wanted her all the more for her anger, for her rage and scars._

_He'd hauled her to the little patch of land she'd been tilling in secret, showed Lyra evidence that the thugs had been preparing to burn the shop down, along with the land. _

_She'd stared at the kerosene cans and clutched the arm he'd slid around her, afraid that he'd leave._

_Of course, he hadn't told her that he'd paid the thugs to leave signs of their damage, and that he'd paid them off their job. He didn't tell her that he had bought the thugs as well, asked them to hound her and let him fight them off to gain her trust._

_And he never revealed that he had hid around a few times, waited for her to leave her shop, her bag stuffed with packets of seeds, and followed her to the cliff's edges. She had an absolute flower bower here, hidden behind the granite rocks, warm from the proximity to the sea, the breeze cut off by the shelter she'd built. _

_So naturally, he gained her trust completely, and she agreed to leave the shop and leave with him. It seemed logical to give up what was unviable and face the inevitable- that he had bought her freedom for himself. And this man she'd met for barely a week, was promising her a different life. She would have her own house, her own life. She could have the entire garden to herself if she liked, he promised her that, all while drying her tears with his hands. _

_They stood in a shadowy corner, the air thick with jasmine and the shop sign slanted where he'd shifted it to the 'closed' side. He kissed her softly, their hands exploring each other. _

_There was inevitability to everything. _

_He whispered that he loved her and he wanted her to love him back. But even when she responded, he knew that she had, from the minute she'd met him. _

_A week later, they were making love for the fifth time that day, tucked away in the house he'd bought, their limbs entangled, and her face flushed with his kisses. _

_She was young and inexperienced, but she had a knack for knowing how to please him. She had probably learnt a thing or two by hearing the other girls or watching them solicit business. _

_But he couldn't think clearly with the wine guiding him and her body nestled next to his. Her golden hair had been cut short to reveal most of the neck, and she was not used to the exposure of her neck. _

_She murmured that it was a dream, she was finally free from Madame Chanteuse's and with a man she loved. _

_He did not hear what she was saying, only continued to hold her and stroke her feverishly, thinking about the glimpses of her breasts when she'd been flustered, trying to rid herself from the tiny crabs. _

_The light was dim and her eyes looked amber and molten despite, or perhaps because, they were an ambiguous grey. Her voice was hoarse and sobbing, calling his name as he'd told her to through. _

_Athrun. _

_And he was holding her near to him, telling her brokenly, that he had never meant to hurt her by leaving for a war that his father had started. He was repeating over and over again, that he had returned for her._

_And in the morning, as he had dressed and drove away from the little neighbourhood he'd settled her in._

_He had done what he had to. She wouldn't have vacated that shop unless he had done what he had. Buying the shop directly would have made her fight him. Buying her was different. She had come closer to the truth than she had known- all because that flower-patch and shop was too near the cliff edge. _

_As he left the small house, he ignored the neighbours who were suddenly busy diving behind their books, avoiding him. But as he moved off, he noted the woman who was driving behind him. _

_They stopped at a secluded road. Her hair blew in the wind, luminous white and luxurious, and her eyes were hidden behind shades, as were his. Neither bothered removing those. Yet, her eyes were searching, and he nodded at her as she stared at him._

"_One problem after another, but it happens only with you." She said clearly, through the window. _

_He smiled lightly, aggravating her because he didn't know how else to look her in the eye. Sanders was dead because of him. "I have my needs."_

"_I don't care who you want to bring home," She said tightly. "As long as you minimise the danger we're already involved in."_

_He shrugged. "She's only a child."_

"_And yet you bring her into all of this!"_

"_So you do bother about these things," He said evenly. "I knew you weren't the machine you claimed to be. When Sanders died you just took off and-"_

"_Don't change the topic," She said, her teeth gritted. "I have been keeping tabs on Lyra Delphius for three days now. You brought her here a week ago, didn't you? To a normal, small neighbourhood. And someone like you, driving in and out of that place, is going to be noticed sooner or later."_

"_I've been staying there for a week. I haven't been driving in and out. And I've told her that I won't frequent regularly. What do you know about her?"_

"_Relatively safe. Had no contact with anyone significant. One of the girls Chanteuse bought from nowhere and raised to be one of her cash cows. She's met a few of them, including Greyfriars. But no harm."_

"_I thought so." He said quietly. "Leave her alone."_

_The woman made a sound of despair, and he realised, not for the first time, that she was nearly a head taller than him, despite him being relatively tall._

"_Estragon, I repeat. I don't care about your little affairs. You could keep a harem and I and the others wouldn't care. Look, Tom's had his nth girlfriend. The uppers aren't expecting us to be celibate or anything, but you know what the risks are. We're isolated within an isolated place, and it's best for it to remain that way. Get too close to anyone and you'll have difficulties breaking free of The Isle. And the danger- just keep that poor girl out of this."_

"_I know. I will."_

_It was unlikely that his colleague's worry was necessary. He felt little for Lyra, needed little from her to satisfy his own needs._

_The only thing that had passed through his mind in the morning, when he'd made love to her again, was that he would arrange for the shop to be destroyed- he wanted the cliff abandoned to prevent trouble._

* * *

The woman before him crossed her legs imperiously and glared at him.

Her pure white hair, as usual, fell over one ruby eye, making her look even more enigmatic in her beauty but always slightly sinister as well. She hadn't changed much these years, Athrun reflected. None of them had. "And you think that it's fine that you're double-crossing them so openly?"

"Sheba," A tall, pale man with glasses above a pleasantly good-looking face said exasperatedly. "Rune's been holding onto the princess for, what's that again? Nearly two and a half months, correct?"

"Yes." Athrun said stoically. "And it will not be a double-crossing. Not a clear one anyway."

"Estragon's a sly bastard," another man said, his body and face clearly more a boy's than a man's, save the grim eye patch he wore, "He's probably using someone in the Danish faction to overthrow Greyfriars, or convincing Greyfriars that someone has broken his rules. It's not his style to appear when he kills someone."

Athrun smiled and said nothing.

"Very well." Sheba said with a sigh. "The others have voted to let you do as you deem fit. Of course-," She added with some trepidation, "Don't go and make a mess out of this. The point is to obtain the suitcase. Create a suitable alibi for yourself to maintain your standing on the Fifth Isle. Remember that you're a wealthy businessman, not some terrorist. Don't charge in with that gun of yours, you'll scare the daylights out of that woman."

"Roger." Athrun said indifferently.

He looked at her and saw that her eyes were like full-moons, dipped in blood.

With a woman like this, he had to be careful. She was a wolf, sniffing out trails, ruthless and determined beyond his comprehension. She was probably wondering who he would bring along with him to Rochester's, since he'd refused to use the other Eyes' aides.

He kept his expression neutral.

But he thought of the firms he had acquired, and he knew that his pulse was racing. He had been thinking of his captive increasingly, these few days, and he wondered if he had been in her thoughts.

The months to follow would come and pass soon, and he would be free of The Isle, once and for all.

* * *

Eight hours later, Athrun turned to face Cagalli, scarcely registering that Epstein was shutting the door for him. Epstein had already taken the parcels that Athrun had brought back and was busy looking into the parcel of maple treats with delight.

Athrun approached the bed and stood about two metres away, but it was enough for Cagalli to get riled up.

She sat up slowly from the bed, stirred from her sleep as they'd entered, her eyes flashing but somehow fearful.

Her bare arms were pale and luminous in the light, and her hair was untrimmed and fell like gold over her shoulders. The slip she was wearing was thin and she shivered, gathering pools of the blanket around her.

They did not speak, merely breathing and looking at each other.

Bloody hell, she thought. Bloody bloody hell.

Athrun looked perfect. Not a hair out of place, not a sign of imperfection, save the dark circles under his eyes which made his face look even more attractive. Not a wrinkle in his suit, and his shoes gleamed.

She on the other hand, must have looked like something the cat dragged in, her hair tousled from sleep, despite it being less than half an hour. Her cheeks were flaming and her body still slightly slow from sleep.

Nervously, Epstein broke the silence. He had reclaimed his attention from the sweets that Athrun had given to him. "I told you she was taking a nap."

Athrun showed no sign of hearing him, and quietly, Epstein slipped out of the room. But he cast a look at Athrun that Cagalli noticed, one of despondent misery and something like jealousy.

They continued to stare at each other, until Cagalli stood up, still clutching the cloth to her, a red riding hood character facing the fabled wolf. It wasn't particularly cold, but she was still trembling and her eyes were unfocused.

Her voice was low and quiet. "You're back."

He imagined her pressed against him, her voice a mewl of desire, barely articulating his name while he cut off her air with kiss after kiss. He had not seen her since then- naturally, his last memories was of her, the way he had finally gained some kind of access to her through her consent. He noticed again that her hair fell long and slightly tangled, beyond her shoulders.

He shook himself out of his daze. "Fine. You?"

She nodded absently and began to walk to the table. The blanket trailed after her like a long tail. She poured water into two glasses and drank from hers, studying him above the rim of her cup.

Slowly, he moved to Cagalli, reaching with one hand for hers, and she gave it reluctantly. The blanket slipped off one shoulder, and Athrun's eyes were drawn to her collarbone. Pillow marks glared at him, and he realised that she had hugged the pillow to her, curling next to it like a cat. He knew she was a person who liked to sleep, the sort of person who slept very deeply if given the chance to.

"Epstein tells me that you've been gambling with the maids." He said each word a thin slice from the other. He allowed the smirk he hid inwardly to surface briefly.

She looked slightly embarrassed. "Not much."

"Just enough to lose a bottle of perfume and a few silk handkerchiefs." He said wryly. "Cartesia didn't dare take you up on the offer when you offered to gamble with an emerald bracelet. She slipped it back into the casket."

"I don't need any of those." She said defensively.

"No." He said acidly. "Not at all."

"I didn't think so." She said disagreeably. "They aren't for people like me. They're for people like-I don't know- your girlfriends or something-,"

"I'm glad you noticed. You'll need to wear one of those tonight."

"What?" She said sharply.

He smiled and pulled her to him, and suddenly, she found that his arms were encircling her waist and shoulders. She found that his hands were tight around her and he was measuring the ends of her hair, looping a lock around his finger.

"What the fuck?"

"You have such a potty mouth," He said huskily, near her ear, tickling the sensitive lobe with his lips. "You don't look like you can swear."

"And why not?" Cagalli said brazenly. She was finding it difficult to think clearly.

"You look too dainty to swear," He said lazily, kissing the side of her mouth.

"'dgiveyouakickinthenether-,"

He laughed, feeling her struggle madly against him. "Did you miss me?"

"What do you think I am?" Cagalli cried, "Rover?"

He only laughed at her.

She swore, flailing against him, trying to yank herself away from him.

And with that, Athrun neatly gripped her wrists and kissed each one. "A little more respect, Princess. Self-discipline would be good too. Don't forget how you kissed me."

She gaped at him, forgetting to be calm and proper. "You patronising pig! Just because we kissed once doesn't mean that you get to be all smirky! I did it so I could have my way! And you! Disappearing for two whole weeks to god-knows-where! Leaving me to rot in this damn room-"

Athrun grinned. "They told me you were a little listless. But you look fine to me, in fact, a little too robust for me to believe what they reported. Perhaps, you felt listless towards them. I must tell Miles that his company's not been appreciated much."

"No! You bloody-,"

"Here-," He brushed his lips lightly across on her cheek, causing her to turn a strange colour.

"Arrgh!"

Her wrists flew out of his hand as she pulled and he let go, the impetus causing her to fly back and stumble into her bed. He wasted no time- he moved above her, crouching over her in a dominant position, trapping her in the nest of silk sheets and capturing her mouth for his.

She moaned quietly, struggling a little as he rolled slightly and she found herself nestling against his chest.

When he released her, she stared at him in horror. "What the hell are we doing?"

"Snogging," Athrun announced blithely.

She made a sound of insane frustration. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing at all." He said softly. "I just decided that I had waited long enough."

He kissed her quickly and without lifting his mouth, ran it to her bare neck, biting it gently to remind her of her place in the food chain.

Wildly, she pushed him away and sat up, pushing her hair over one shoulder as he did the same, although more leisurely.

"Don't try tomfoolery with me." She said in a low voice. "We're both adults now. We know how to behave and the kiss was a one time thing. A one-off."

"Really?" He interrupted. "Then it's a one-off thing that's quite frequent."

She glared at him. "And whose fault is that?"

He looked at her abruptly, narrowing his eyes in a squint. "You look thinner."

"Don't change the topic!" Cagalli snarled. "I don't believe how awful you are at-,"

"Tonight," Athrun said simply, ignoring what she was trying to say, "I'm going to bring you out of the Manor. You're coming with me, and you'll need to get ready for it."

She stared at him. "What? What?"

She couldn't believe how he was doing this to her- jumping from one topic to another, making her head spin, and then telling her that she would be out of the room, out of the Manor that night.

"There's an event I must attend." Athrun said slowly. "And a dinner date is required."

"Why don't you do what you usually do," Cagalli said nastily, "And pick up some girl on the way there?"

"Don't be ridiculous," He said calmly. "Those girls would want more than payment for their time."

She laughed mockingly. "Well, I'm sure a little snogging would help. You seem to be quite forthcoming even when nobody needs it."

He smiled, playing along with her. "There's a price to everything here."

"You're referring to the lady you're paying tribute to, no? What are you going to give her? A night she'll never forget, being the rake that you are?" She fired back at him.

"Don't be ridiculous." Athrun said bluntly. He was studying his hand in a way that suggested that he was unimpressed by Cagalli's comeback and the mention of the host. "She's an old bitch with a pug's face. But she'll get a five carat diamond."

Cagalli whistled, unimpressed but shocked enough. "Doesn't she have some of that already?"

Deciding to hit below the belt, she added, "And won't she want an hour with you or something?"

"That's why," Athrun said with something like a forced smile. "I need a dinner date. And there won't be any need for more discussion. I'll have the maids bring a dress for you. A more formal one, I think- maybe the maroon. Or that one- hmm, I think that one."

He strode to her cupboard and opened it, peering into it. He put his hands into the depths and began shuffling around, pulling the hangers aside.

"Don't just make decisions for yourself!" She cried, stomping after him and clenching her fists, glaring at the back of his head.

"Why not?" He said mockingly. "Maybe you should as well. You've got no country to think about here, do you?"

"What?" She said, stunned.

"You'll only have to eat, smile, talk of silly things, and dance with me." He said confidently, turning around and catching her eyes with his for her to fall silent. "Epstein will teach you some simple steps. If I'm not wrong, you've already learnt this stuff."

"How'd you know?" She sputtered.

"I was there." He said simply, "As Alex Dino."

She fell silent, unable to think of anything to answer back with.

"And nobody will be able to tell that you're unable to do either of these naturally. And after presenting our tithes and offerings to that bovine, we'll enjoy ourselves immensely. Nobody will realise that you're the bumpkin you are."

"What?" She sputtered again. How she hated being goaded by him!

"Or that you have a very limited vocabulary." He said absent-mindedly.

She swallowed her next exclamation and began to speak, but he intercepted her.

"You'll do as I say." He said cheerfully. "Your payment for the kisses I gave you when I came into this room. I told you didn't I? Everything has a price."

A pillow hit him in the chest and her voice rang out in the room.

"Damn you!"

* * *

4 months 4 days

* * *

A/N: Hello dear readers!

I'm sorry it took so long to upload this. I got lots of PMs this year, just for this story, and it's basically boiled down to, "Giddyup and get going!" Thanks for all of those, you guys. I was touched by some reader's concerns. e.g. "Are you having writer's block?!? READ: DISEASE?"

'The Isle' has been completed during this time already, but I couldn't bear to upload every chapter at one shot. (It makes the number of reviews drop crazily, I've heard.) Besides, uploading has been delayed because of other stuff. (Like watching Gossip Girl for 8 hours in a stretch- guilty pleasure as a closet chick-lit reader...)

I'd like to say here too, that 'The Isle's going to get even more mature. So if you've got to pass the subsequent chapters over ( chapter 11 onwards), then do it yup. Thanks for reading this far.

I'm waiting eagerly for the next time when I can upload, so RnR quick so I can throw in the next chapter already! :)


	10. Chapter 9

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

**SERIOUSLY. **

* * *

Chapter 9

* * *

When Epstein and Cartesia brought her to him, Athrun knew that the chances of relinquishing his feelings were next to nothing.

It was all he could do to stop his jaw from becoming dislocated for his dignity and the carpet's sake. So he maintained a cool, impersonal glance as he lifted an eyebrow and appraised her.

Laplacia was standing on a small stool, trying to minimise the height difference so as to help him with his dressing. His left cufflink was already done, and she was trying to secure the right one. But he ignored her, taking his wrist away.

Distracted, Laplacia turned to the people who had entered.

His little aide made the exclamation he had suppressed, and then hopped off the stool. He watched her run towards her sister and Epstein as they led Cagalli in.

She stood before him, and the three aides left, sensing that they were not needed.

He finished doing his cufflinks with some effort that he did not show outwardly, and then returned his eyes to Cagalli. If anything, the effect was that of impersonal disinterest, and it riled her.

She lifted her head proudly and glared at him, her posture rather mannish and incongruent when juxtaposed with her gown. She had folded her arms over her chest, the jet, long-gloved hands tight, her fingers tapping against her elbows uncomfortably.

Her stance ruined the effect of her elegant champagne and gold-coloured dress somewhat. She was comely and desirable, but she had brought on her artillery of a dark scowl, crossed arms, squared shoulders and similar male defences.

Nevertheless, he congratulated himself on choosing the gold dress rather than the maroon. While the dress she wore was quite a bit flashier than the maroon one, really, that was the whole point of it all.

The material had the consistency of silk but the texture of something far more decadent. Like a second skin, it accentuated her hips and chest more than Cagalli wanted to admit or appreciate. This was obvious from her defensive posture.

But it didn't matter- he would do enough admitting and appreciating for both of them.

He took a step nearer, a bit like a circling wolf.

He could detect the hint of musk on her neck and wondered if his knees were giving way.

Of course, he'd asked for Epstein to arrange for the evening, giving specific orders the maids must have then acted on. Athrun had asked for them to enhance her natural beauty into one that arrested men, quite forgetting that he was susceptible to her. So Athrun had created a Frankenstein.

Oh well. He didn't really mind.

The maids had curled her long hair into softly cascading locks that rested on her shoulders, and he was pleased at how different she appeared. If anyone had looked at this person, he would not have recognised her as the Orb Princess.

Her pink lips sported a coat of gloss and nothing else, making it seem like she had wet her lips seconds before. And her eyes looked like light, golden and flecked with amber. Privately, he noticed that her neck bore the best adornment of all- nothing.

"What?" She said waspishly.

She glared at him venomously and he fought back a smirk. A smirk was a rude thing; only men like Dearka could hope to pull these sneers off.

But if someone could count the number of silent smirks Athrun had ever made, they would have just added one more to an infinite number.

She must have sensed his amusement, for her voice became slightly agitated.

"I followed your instructions, didn't I? I sat still while they treated me like a Barbie. They friggin' curled my hair! I don't even look the same anymore! I mean, I've never worn my hair this long, in these Goldilocks thingies-," She shook a curl furiously, "And did I mention that I look like a damn bee? All gold, and these black gloves! Look-,"

She waved her arms in the air frantically, and there was a blur of her long black gloves against the gold.

He began to laugh.

But even without the ridiculous movements, she would draw all eyes to her for a whole fifteen minutes at least, if not the entire night.

The ensemble was perfect, Athrun decided, quite perfect.

He took a step closer to her and she faltered just a little. "Be still. You look fine."

'More than fine.' He added mentally, and smirked quite openly.

Cagalli, on the other hand, frowned. "And don't you think it's strange that I can walk around like this? Aren't I supposed to be some sort of captive in some sort of top secret crap thing? I mean, if I go around like this, someone's bound to recognise me even with this get-up, and-,"

"Relax," Athrun repeated calmly.

He realised that he was saying this for his own sake.

Trying to regain some control, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Cagalli." She said dumbly.

He raised an eyebrow. "So quick, and you forget."

"I mean," She stammered. "Wait-,"

"Once more." He said mockingly. "What is your name?"

She looked distinctively uncomfortable. She rubbed her elbow with one hand, as if she had caught a chill.

"L-Lyra Delphius."

The mirrored walls showed four reflections. Neither of these felt like it belonged to her.

"That's right." He said pleasantly. "And what do you do for a living?"

She paused, biting her red lips.

"Don't have one." She said sulkily, after her silence. "I'm your- your consort."

She gave him a look of resentment that was blended with bewilderment. He ignored it.

"That's right. And where do you live?"

That look was in her eyes again. He tried to focus while she answered.

"With you."

"And where's that?"

"That's a secret." She said uncomfortably. She twisted her hands together.

"Spot-on. Epstein did brief you very well then."

Cagalli began to speak very fast. Her expression was one of confusion, agitation, and doubt. "And won't they ask me more about my occupation? I mean, that's the way it is. Name, occupation, location, that sort of thing."

"No." He said firmly. "They won't."

"Why?" Cagalli said starkly.

"Because they don't intend to offer the same information. Therefore, they won't ask for yours. Besides-," He allowed himself a smile, "It's pretty obvious with your get-up that you're my consort. Just act like it."

"And how do I do that?" She said sarcastically.

He considered this, and then his smile changed a little, into something strange, something that sent thrills and possibly, a chill up her body.

For he was pulling her closer to him and forcing her to drape her hands around his arm, as if she were hanging off it the way clothes were slung on a hanger.

Her eyes widened then, and her voice was a snarl.

She pulled away like he was a poisonous scorpion, stumbling back. "Get this right, Zala! I'm only doing this because you're promising me-,"

"Because I'm promising you a few days away from The Isle." He said smoothly. "I know."

The four-panelled mirrored room reflected her unease. She had never been to this room before, his changing room, she supposed.

There was nothing but mirrors and a table and some chairs in it, as well as a chandelier and candles. A vase of flowers were scenting the air, roses and red clovers again. It looked like a spray of blood, shooting out of white porcelain vessels that the vases seemed to be.

She stared, wondering why he favoured red clovers so much.

But in the meantime, Athrun had taken a velvet box from the table, opening it towards her.

She stared, shocked and somehow, she rubbed her eyes like a poor, silly girl who had never seen jewels before.

She unfolded her arms helplessly and looked at him. A diamond pendant on a platinum chain winked at her.

"A diamond necklace?"

"Yes." He said casually. "Lady Rochester's birthday gift, actually. She gets seven carats. But-" He put the box on the mahogany table, took another and opened it.

"You get twelve carats." Athrun said with a mildness that resembled a sort of carelessness. "Because we mustn't look shabby, must we?"

She blinked, opened her mouth and said numbly. "Holy guacamole fucking shit."

He took a step closer, and Cagalli had no time to react. She made a soft, silent cry, but her feet were backing into something and she was leaning against the table, unable to move away.

"I thought so when you came in looking like this." He murmured.

His lips grazed her ear and she realised he was now standing by her side, close to her, and his fingers were at her chin, lifting her face up to his.

And she had no comeback for that.

Dry-mouthed, she stared at him, wondering if he would do anything. But if she had thought that he would kiss her, she was surprised.

Wordlessly, he pulled her away from where she'd backed into. Then, he moved behind her and she glimpsed something dazzling being swathed around her neck.

She shivered at the sensation of the necklace slithering around her. A string of pear-shaped diamonds, arranged like a collar. The stones were so brilliant she wondered if the jewel-smiths had sacrificed their eyesight for each component.

The realisation that she was wearing something that her car was probably worth only three-quarters of made her slightly uneasy.

"There was a twenty-carat one," He teased. "But I thought you wouldn't be able to handle it."

She had a ridiculous image of herself struggling to walk with a rock around her neck. Her pet rock- good lord. She looked into the mirror to see him smiling, and she realised that he was joking with her.

Rune Estragon. Joking with her.

"How could I not?" Cagalli retorted indignantly. "I can handle anything you throw at me!"

"Perhaps," He said with warmth in his voice that made her colour a little.

She felt his fingers running up her neck and trembled.

He whispered, "Are you afraid to wear this?"

His reflection had changed again. There was intensity in his eyes, the emerald so deep it was almost jet. And his lips were set together as he stared at her reflection while she watched his.

Was she afraid to wear the necklace? Maybe.

Was she afraid to wear his fingers? Draped around her skin, tasting the rough pads of his fingers and the beautifully-formed fingers tiptoeing across her flesh?

Yes. She was afraid.

She swallowed quickly. "And why should I be afraid? It's not like I haven't been loaned stuff like this. That brand, what's it called Canary and Cartiere, Hillary Winston, Tihanny, Mont Noir, they're always passing stuff with my personal assistant. Product placement. I know."

"But this one's different." He said lightly, with the air of one who was stating a fact and nothing else.

She instinctively knew what he meant. He had chosen this for her, taken it from its box, put it around her neck, and let his fingers linger on her flesh, marking it and her.

But defiantly, she said, "I've worn things like these before. What's so different?"

"This one's yours." He said softly, his breath caressing her cheek. "And I want you to have it."

She began to stammer incoherently, and she felt cool metal slide into her earlobes as he slipped matching earrings in her ears. She shuddered, afraid but somehow, wanting him to warm her with his breath.

"It becomes you." He said simply.

"What?"

Amusedly, he handed her a hand-mirror, as if those around them did not suffice. But in fact, those served their function sufficiently. It was simply that the hand-mirror showed only the reflection above her neck, magnifying the necklace, earrings, and her face.

She gazed into it as he straightened the dazzling strand around her neck.

Her voice was weak and disbelieving.

"Good Lord." Cagalli said unsteadily. "Are you the Sheik of Araby or some bloody owner of some bloody diamond mine somewhere in South Africa? I haven't even worn one of those pieces you have a whole casket of."

"We'll see to that," He said mildly. "I'll find you opportunities to wear them. Those are just baubles, but I want to see you wear them for me."

She lifted her eyes to his face in the mirror and found tenderness in his expression.

Her heart leapt for a second, and the diamonds sitting on her flesh seemed dull compared to the atmosphere that persisted around them.

There was no edge in either of them, no will to argue and fight or disagree. There was only the simple pleasure she derived from his gift and the way he'd presented it to her, regardless of its value.

And for him, there was only the awkward joy she received his gift with. Athrun knew that his pleasure was derived from watching her behave with that innate childlikeness to a gift another woman might have reacted coyly to.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head and put a finger near her lips.

"You're ready now."

And then, he took her by her arm and helplessly, she closed her eyes as he tied a scarf around her eyes, his fingers gentle and his presence flooding her senses.

She was only half-aware that she was stepping gingerly as he guided her, and then they must have reached the last step, for there was a sound of a car door being opened and someone hurrying towards them.

"Enjoy yourselves," She heard Epstein say in a strangely flat voice, some distance away, and she thought she heard a note of envy and mistrust.

He had been a wonderful teacher, patient and humorous, correcting flaws in her dancing, and reminding her of what to say to potential questions that night. She'd leant forward to thank him, kissed him on his cheek, watched him turn a funny pink. She'd laughed at how young he was, despite the way he presented himself, and he had smiled shyly, a bit like Kira.

She wondered why Epstein was in such a strange mood now.

So she turned in the direction of his voice, wanting to call out to Epstein, but she found herself being ushered into the car.

It smelt faintly of leather and lavender, and Athrun's hand was holding onto hers. He had gloved it by this time, but she felt his hand's warmth still.

To reassure herself, she curled her fingers around his, and found herself becoming calmer as his other hand covered both of theirs securely.

The engine purred and she muttered something of a curse under her breath and heard him chuckle.

They must have been in something like a limousine, for the driver's voice echoed before reaching their ears. The driver spoke very softly, but her hearing was heightened with the scarf shielding her eyes- he spoke in the same Germanic tongue the maids had spoken in to Athrun before.

But between Athrun and her, nobody spoke for what seemed like a year. Then she felt him moving slightly and whispering that they had arrived.

The scarf fell by the seat as she blinked, adjusting to the light of the pavilion and the colossal shape of some mansion that threatened to swallow them as Athrun led her towards it.

She noticed a fur-lined shawl she had seen in the car seat, and reached for it. But clearly, he had other plans, pulling her along with him. She protested, trying to reach for it, but he glanced at her and said lazily, "Don't bother with that."

So they stepped towards the entrance, he an uncompromising presence, and she, glittering and reflecting a dozen lights with what she wore, both her dress and the jewels he'd placed on her.

She tried not to shiver with the gust that was blowing around her bare shoulders, conscious that the dress dipped low in the back and front. A few women stared at her, and Cagalli knew that she was committing a faux pas of sorts.

Even in Orb, Cagalli had never entered the soirees without a shawl to hide her shoulders, especially with more revealing gowns- that was a sort of formality to observe everywhere.

Athrun however, was silent and she sensed his confidence as he walked by her side, his arm snaking around her bare shoulders, and she tried not to tremble. But once they were further into the hall, she felt less exposed. The other women had long removed their fur stoles, shawls and whatnots.

Inside, the music was a swamp of sound, the orchestral pit an entire platoon of brass instruments and morgues of viols. She gazed around, feeling remarkably familiar with the surroundings, the bright colours of women's gowns contrasted with the men's suits.

The chandeliers swarmed above their heads, the lights flickering busily from fork to brooch to spoon and then the jewels on the men's cufflinks.

A pair of perfect, nearly blood-red spaniels sat near a pillar, looking a bit bored with the smoke that eased out of long, gilded pipes that owners put their lips to. One saw her and wagged its ostrich plume of a tail, its tongue waving at her.

With a delight that made her forget where she was, she began moving towards them. But Athrun pulled her back, his lips twitching.

She remembered then, that she was here to act the role he'd decided for her. At the same time, she felt a surge of self-depreciating pity. The more she met people, the more she liked dogs and their simplicity.

She glanced at Athrun to tell him this and realised that he wore very simple, understated silver cufflinks- how like him to eschew what the others did.

He led her past the buzzing hives of people who murmured greetings to him, which he nodded and responded to politely and vaguely. The spaniels were now eating daintily from platters of veal.

She looked back at them, past his shoulder, and saw that their owners were staring at her.

"Don't look at them." He muttered. "Just follow me."

And before long, she found herself standing by his side, facing a massive woman. Her face bore some homage to her past handsomeness, although her frame suggested this had gone to waste some years before.

She was surrounded by other guests, both men and women. But Cagalli couldn't help but notice that as Athrun moved towards her, women swarmed around the host, trying to put themselves before Athrun.

The host cast an imperious eye over her soiree, fanning herself lazily with a decorative, entirely useless jewelled fan.

Cagalli stood stiffly, trying not to look as Athrun bowed deeply, almost to the point of pretentiousness, and she saw a flash of mockery flit in his eyes very quickly.

He reached into the air and plucked a red rose out, and Cagalli gaped along with the women standing around. The men's expressions were less encouraging- it ranged from disinterest to bitterness.

"Why," The host said loudly and quite sincerely, "A new trick! The last time, it was a pink rose!"

The women alongside the hostess began to titter with excitement, and one looked bashfully at Athrun, frantically adjusting her ostentatious headpiece. It looked like an exploded parrot with a swathing of crystals.

Cagalli tried to stand still, although her toes were possibly laughing in their cramped shoes.

"Lady Rochester," Athrun said gallantly, "May I?"

She vibrated a quavering laugh and held out what looked more like an overfed crab than a hand, powerful but very blunt.

Her eyes gleamed greedily as he kissed it delicately, lingering on for that infinite second, as if he knew that it increased his hold on her exponentially. And it did, Cagalli marvelled. It bloody well did.

Lady Rochester, if anything, seemed to behave like a frisky maiden, puckering her lips at Athrun and batting her eyelids. Her fingers held the rose's stem daintily, as daintily as a bunch of bananas could, Cagalli supposed, with her pinky sticking out obscenely.

Her arms wobbled a little and she smiled boldly, resting her hand on Athrun's cheek. He didn't even blink.

"Mister Estragon," She said crisply, surprising Cagalli with her amorous but very crisp enunciation, "How good it is to see you."

Her fingers began measuring the distance of his upper lip to his eye.

Her lips looked like individual slices of raw fish, Cagalli thought, all pink and fleshy and blubbery.

"The pleasure's mine." He said simply, with the air of one who had no patience for pleasantries. "Please, if you'll accept my gift-,"

He handed her the velvet box that Cagalli had seen, smoothly stepping away from Lady Rochester's prying hands.

And she opened it, laughing and shaking so much that she resembled one of the chandeliers without its securing chain. Her rose-colored gown made her flushed with life and colour, although the spider webs on her skin made her look slightly sinister, as did her overly-dark, dyed hair and hooked nose.

"Lovely." She said with the same articulation that seemed incongruent with her form. "Thank you. Lord Estragon, you always escape my imagination. How is it that you emerge here and there and make all these women pine after you? And after you made me agree to sell that company to you, you never even paid me a visit anymore."

He bowed slightly. "Nothing of that sort, Lady Rochester."

She cast a curious eye at Cagalli. "And this is Lyra, whom I've heard so much about?"

Cagalli tried to look unsurprised.

One of Rochester's friends was flitting around her, and Cagali lifted her head haughtily, staring at the woman with some dislike.

Athrun nodded slightly. "I never knew things got around so quickly."

"Ah," Lady Rochester said knowingly. Her grin grew slightly predatory, and the little cupcake seemed ridiculous in her massive palm. Its sugar rose looked pitiful, wilting on the icing. "You haven't been seen with a woman for so long. Surely, if one hears that you have been with somebody, then it will spread far and wide."

He bowed again.

"Rumours always have a grain of truth in them." Rochester mused. "I have long heard that you had found a blonde little rosebud, and I suppose that was true as well. Enjoy yourselves, both of you. Ask Ink for directions."

She turned around and was promptly occupied by some other guests who began presenting their gifts to her.

Cagalli stood, waiting until the swirl of parties reshuffled and she felt it was safe to speak. And when she did, her voice was incredulous, too stunned to be upset. "You were the one who spread rumours, weren't you? You let them think you keep a blonde woman?"

"Of course." He said absently, smiling at someone in the distance who was waving to him. "How else could I get Cagalli Yula Atha to appear like this?"

He took a wine goblet from a tray that appeared to levitate past them, and brought it to her lips. "Now that that's over, you can relax and do as Lady Rochester suggested."

Cagalli took a sip obligingly, liking the sensation of bubbles teasing her tongue and the acid sweetness of the champagne. Liking its taste, she downed it quickly.

Athrun watched her, his voice warning. "Don't chuff too many down. Rochester likes her drinks to have more booze than anything else in them. They taste harmless but are addictive."

She ignored him, taking another goblet to suggest that she was old enough to do whatever she wanted. "She told us to ask Ink for directions. Ink who?"

He gestured to a jolly, rather plump man who bustled around, handing out truffles and trifles and that sort of thing. He had a perpetual redness that Cagalli knew, was something of a liquor-addiction's symptom.

But then, he looked so clean and so well spruced, so alert, that she supposed it was possible that he used a nutmeg-grater to bathe, not soap.

"That's Nigel Ink. Her head servant, or butler. He knows exactly which rooms have been allocated to which person, that sort of thing."

"Rooms?" She said anxiously. "Surely, this isn't some kind of roadhouse?"

There was an indignant repulsion in her face as a man stumbled past her, talking to the girl by his side as if she were at the other end of the room. They disappeared into the mesh of the crowds.

"Not at all." Athrun reassured her.

She glared at him, not believing him.

He paused, studying her. "I suppose you haven't gotten drunk enough in any event like this before?"

Cagalli frowned, and then she nodded, finally understanding. 'I never drank enough to require lodging for the night. So it never crossed my mind that I would have to stick around for more than a few hours during those events, let alone stay the night. I suppose lots of guests do. Come to think of it, I saw servants bringing in suitcases sometimes."

Worried, she gazed at him. "Do we have to stay the night?"

"No." Athrun said simply. "Now, come with me before she returns and asks me to humour her-,"

"Alright," Cagalli said brightly, approving of Athrun's dislike of Rochester.

He led her to the turbulences of men and women, lost in their own hedonism, unable to see past the shoulders of their partners, unable to recognise the blur of color that consumed them all.

There was a comfortable lament of a stray violin playing in the distance.

They were all like stray cats, she and Athrun, wondering and wandering.

And these parties were so foreign but so familiar to both of them. Each person was casually courteous to the faces that swarmed around them, making friends and forgetting them within the hours that passed.

For Athrun and Cagalli, not knowing anybody was a familiarity in itself.

But, he seemed to know everyone for now. They murmured to him as he murmured back, nobody really raising their voices, but the sheer multiplicity of people's murmurs a maddening stream of sound.

She studied the faces, trying to chart the map of their minds and Athrun's, the single mind that seemed to chart hers effortlessly.

A woman with a doll's face sat opposite her, beaming and offering to take her on a spa. She wore a nebulous blue, and her hair was a seaweed colour. Her husband was a walrus of a man, his handlebar moustache making his thick European accent even more jarring.

Next to Cagalli, a young man sat, cutting meat as if it were a surgical operation. She noticed that his hands were fine and smooth, like a pianist's, and knew that he probably used a knife to do more than dine. But when she asked Athrun who the man next to her was, he merely smiled.

A tiny waif of a girl with heavy russet bangs and pretty forget-me-not eyes passed by, and Athrun bent down as she whispered something into his ear.

With heels, the top of Cagalli's head only barely reached Athrun's eyes. Even if Cagalli hadn't worn heels, the girl would still have struggled to reach Cagalli's shoulder. Next to Athrun, this girl seemed a midget.

Cagalli stared, wondering if she was a child or vision, for the girl's face was like moistened clay, smoothened by a potter's hand, the lips flushed with health.

The girl looked at her with a mischievous grin in her eyes, and then lifted a goblet and downed it entirely, toasting her. Cagalli's lips parted in surprise- surely that contained more liquor than a child could handle.

But Athrun nodded towards the girl, looked once at Cagalli, and the girl vanished, pattering off into the distance.

"Who is she?" Cagalli inquired. She felt uneasy.

Athrun's eyes were still trained in the distance. "Ah. A friend's cousin, who's the baby of their family. Her name's Dolce Mignonettie."

Cagalli stared, trying to identify the cause of her unease as Dolce waved to them, the tiny pearls swinging in the light from her ear lobes, framing her pretty fairy's face. The rustling, watered silk on her child's body, slender and boyish, seemed to envelop her entirely, like a chrysalis. She was soon lost in the mosaic of women and men around her.

A woman introduced herself as Yvette Leigh Kanabaria. When pressed to talk about something other than her immense wealth and privilege, she would reveal herself to be a very shy person.

She was a woman whose voice was a mincing shout in the air. She seemed to swing from a perch, around the room, a sort of colourful parakeet with a thousand versions of the same, insufferable voice.

"And this is Lyra, whom I've heard so much about?"

Cagalli took a step back involuntarily, backing into the curtains clinging to the balcony that she and Athrun were standing near to.

'No,' She thought desperately, 'I'm Cagalli Yula Atha. I have nothing to lie about or hide.'

Yvette turned her head to Athrun, her hard, lined mouth turning amorous suddenly. Athrun did not appear surprised at the way she attached herself, limpet like, to his hand.

On the contrary, he picked it up, kissed it, and patted it in an almost amused manner. "Yes, Mrs. Kanabaria. I've been telling Lyra how she's missing out on these parties because she hasn't been attending enough to get to you."

"Oh tosh," The woman threw her head back, laughing like a mad horse, eyeballs rolling in her sallow face. Her lips were rolled back, obscene and flapping, like a man's appendage. But her flipped hair remained remarkably perfect, frozen by the hairspray.

Another woman appeared by Yvette's side, not even bothering to introduce herself at all. Cagalli gazed at her, wondering why she was limping around with one heel missing.

If Cinderella had fled through twenty storms and decided that over-adornment with tassels and crystals dripping everywhere were a la mode, this woman would have been the embodiment. She lurched a little, a goblet of sherry in her hand, which she toasted to the chandeliers and apparently, nobody else.

Cagalli found that her back was pressing against the curtain's velvet trimmings. She was pressing into the wall, shrinking away from the people she was expected to somehow _know_.

Athrun, however, did not back away. He remained like that cold, marble statue, dark and light together, his colouring making him a stain in the mad colours of the world they were in.

"Master Estragon," she said blissfully, "I've been wondering about the time when you complimented my dress, the one with the gold beads and rose trimming and the emeralds near the bust- you admired it-,"

"Ah," He said delicately. "How could I forget?"

Cagalli looked at him, horrified, but his eyes never left the intruder's face.

"I wanted to wear the dress tonight," She babbled, her lipstick a bit smudged, and the smell of smoke travelling around her fingers as she took a bite of her pipe and choked a bit. "But I fell down and ripped it and had to get it mended in the bust. And it was a little too small for the bust anyway so-"

She began to giggle and cry incoherently.

Cagalli looked at her silently, too disconcerted to say anything. The woman had the tired face of one who had been through too little to say very much, and her face was swollen, dripping with tears and rivulets of ruined makeup.

A man appeared at her side, a sort of thin, sunken-cheeked person, and he said apologetically to Athrun, "My apologies- she enjoys herself very much at Lady Rochester's parties."

His body was hunched, but there was something rigid about its shape, something brittle and breakable about his arms and how they clung to the woman who was laughing and crying.

He began to drag her away, but she flung herself away, towards Cagalli, and he caught her before she could collapse there and then.

Cagalli stared at her, frozen, and then, without quite understanding why, she looked accusingly at Athrun.

Athrun said nothing.

Then another man, portly and balding, pounded up to all of them, shoving away the sallow-faced man. And he dragged his babbling wife away, his face a bit red as well, but his mind clear enough to look at Athrun with dislike and some fear.

Some other women swept up to both of them and Yvette Kanabaria. They chattered like jays, bright and colourful, with their claws extended over the remnants of the absent woman's entry. They resembled critics fighting over who had the meanest, wittiest word for a flop of a play. It was entertaining to watch and horrifying to hear.

Cagalli was still staring at Athrun as he smiled emotionlessly at Yvette Kanabaria.

"Be careful of Mrs Tatoller," Yvette Kanabaria advised solemnly, "She's always a bit strange when she doesn't leave it alone. Just like Marcus over here-,"

"I do leave it alone," Marcus Lohengriter accused hollowly. He slumped over the table, snoring, the remnants of his pipe slithering into the air. His goblet was refilled by an efficient servant, who floated off after that.

Cagalli flinched, looking at Athrun. But he showed no expression. He drank a little, although he did not exhibit any strange signs of Bacchus' mirth. And not for the first time, she was envious of the control he had over liquor.

"Lyra, of course," Another man said with a sneer, adjusting his moustache with his index finger as a curler, "Is unlikely to be as- carefree, shall we say, as Mrs Tatoller and Marcus Lohengriter."

Cagalli tried to look innocuous, smiling politely at them all. She cut a piece of veal into two, watched blood ooze out of it, and felt distinctively sick.

"When he asked you," Eearl with his rheumatic voice said, "Did you agree to immediately?"

She stared, confused. But Athrun cut in immediately, smiling genially as he did with people he was playing with. "Why, of course she did not."

"Why not?"

"Because she was afraid that I wouldn't sustain her interest for long, with my kind of job and that sort of thing." Athrun said flippantly.

"Lyra's so shy," Masterson said suggestively, looking at her with sly eyes. "This is one of the few times that anyone's seen her. Just ask Jeremiah Buffonesco."

Even more bewildered, Cagalli turned around to them and said without thinking. "What?"

A man with a plum face who she assumed to be Buffonesco raised his head briefly, "Saw you from very far the other time, Missus. Four years ago. But as fantastic as ever, and same dress looks twice as good on you."

His head dropped and he began to gorge himself on the lobster once more. The black beady crustacean eyes stared balefully beyond his fork, a strange addition to his bulging, iridescent chins.

"Why of course!" Yvette said in astonishment, "Why, you wore this dress the last time as well, didn't you? Everyone recognises you because of it. Of course, your hair's longer now, and you looked a little taller the last time. Different shoes, no?"

"Did I speak to you the last time?" Cagalli inquired. "And when was the last time you saw me?"

"We-ell," Yvette looked at the other guests in embarrassment. "No, not really. You kept mostly to yourself that night. It was a very large party, so I couldn't get around to speaking to everyone, you must understand. And why are you asking? You sound like you've forgotten the party Lady Rochester threw four years ago."

Shocked, Cagalli turned to Athrun, who was sitting without expression, save the slight furrow in his brow.

There was something slightly cruel in his mouth, and his eyes were a bit cold.

"Perhaps, Lyra has forgotten," He said smoothly. "But no matter." He smiled winsomely. "Meeting you, Mrs Kanabaria, will make the night more memorable. Lyra accompanies me to so many of these events that we forget very easily."

Yvette tittered.

"True," Masterson said eagerly. "We had twelve parties in that week, last year. Twelve!"

The bustle of noise built around Cagalli's head, and she thought, for a horrible second, that she had been locked in a cage, in a circus somewhere.

She clenched her fists in her lap, and her golden dress glimmered brighter than the gold-plated forks and spoons. She was afraid to look at Athrun, afraid that she would give something away.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The conductor said loudly, "May I present to you, Victor Lyonsky's latest composition, the Great Symphony of Modern History!"

Yvette Kanabaria flashed away into the distance, a young man on her arm. Masterson looked around but found nobody in particular.

A whole pit of wailing trumpets and complaining woodwinds flooded the massive hall, and Yvette caught whole of a young man and he carted her off to the floor. Her husband appeared at her elbow a few times, hissing, "You said you would!", but she did not seem to hear him.

Cagalli gazed around at Athrun, afraid to refuse, but afraid to agree as well. She was at a loss.

"Lyra dear," Eearl said, his grey hair and wide face stretched in a grin, "Would you like to dance?"

He reached out and she flinched as his paws slithered near her neck. He wore an opal cravat, a thing of great beauty that appeared incongruent with the sauce on his chin.

But Athrun's hand found its way to her shoulder first, as his other hand tilted her chin, smiling at her stunned silence as he brought his lips across her cheek, clearly claiming her.

She felt a wave of embarrassment mingling with relief and gratefulness.

He looked directly at Eearl, even as a dozen people drifted away from their tables to form a gigantic monster of many legs and arms in a single mass. "My apologies, Lord Nottingherk, but Lyra promised me the first dance."

Eearl looked disappointed, even pouting a little, making him look like an overgrown catfish. The comical points of his moustache lay on a wide, wet upper lip folding over the lower one. "Not at all."

"She is your wife, after all." Eearl added, as an afterthought.

Cagalli, who was downing her goblet of champagne, swallowed, set it down and stared at Eearl. Athrun did no such thing.

He smiled, a bit insincerely, stood up, and neatly pushed his chair in. "Come, Lyra."

She gaped at Athrun as he stood up; pulling her up by the elbow, guiding her away from the table where champagne was staining the white table cloths. The food was everywhere, multiplying, it seemed, and the alcohol in even greater abundance.

People were swooning on their tables, their arms pillowing their resting heads, a few talking animatedly, a few coughing and looking sick and faceless in the orgiastic energy and waste of their surroundings.

Those who were in arguably more sober states were waltzing in neat little quadrants across the expansive floor. A few were doing the lindy hop with only the courage of Rochester's liquor. The others kept clear of the whooping, cheering bunch, until they had consumed enough to join their ranks as well.

A girl in a crimson dress, a lily in her bosom and a suspiciously glad neck snatched a glass abruptly, downed it for confidence, and clapped her hands, moving her hips and twisting, her heels beating a clear rhythm. The temporary hush burst out as the orchestra obliged their beats into a frenzied tango.

Athrun murmured, "That girl used to be in the circus."

"Aren't we all in one?" Cagalli muttered back sardonically.

She wanted to pull herself away, run away from this madness. But he did not let her. He pulled her to him; forcing her to arch her back as he twirled her without warning. Epstein had made sure she could dance the tango, but she had not been prepared for _this._

The others were doing the same, but with less fervour and intent, she suspected, compared to Rune Estragon. He moved her in a circle as she tossed her head back angrily.

She was afraid to move away for fear of ruining their elaborate pretence, but unwilling to be near him. The net result was her aggressive pulling away from him, but her body creating a tight symmetry with his as he forced her back into his radius each time.

The others were beginning to notice the way he controlled them perfectly with the music's timing, every beat, and every line of tension complying with each viol. There was no false step with this man- only ruthless execution and possessive precision.

She panted once as he pulled her in a dizzying twist against him, and she straightened once more, his hand guiding her back. He ran his fingers up her spine, her body a breathing cello in his arms, and she heard murmurs from people who were watching.

She wondered why his palm was moving so near her thigh as she lifted her leg half-heartedly against his waist, as Epstein had instructed her to.

"Smile." He muttered. "You look like you're trying."

"I am!" She panted softly.

"You shouldn't have to." He told her.

Scarlet with shame and hatred, she would have pushed him aside, angry at her body's reaction to his and her flushed cheeks. But she obeyed him without knowing why, smiling as a trained animal did for its audience.

There had been something frenzied about the last few minutes, the way she had silently fought against him even as her body moved to every nuance of his command. She had been like a show horse, urged to dance in a ring, throwing its glossy neck back to be admired.

When the beat finally ended and he helped her to stand properly once more, she found their faces dangerously close, and her hands tight around him even while he ran his hand teasingly, up her thigh. The slit in the dress was rather revealing, she thought dazedly- and then she realised she was the one being revealed.

The applause was still going on, and mortified, she straightened from the position they'd both been in, him bending over her, his arm supporting her weight as she had been flung back.

The orchestra slid back into a more sedate waltz and the others continued to dance.

Athrun was looking at her quietly with a tiny smile.

Someone complimented her, and she forced a nod back, although it was curt.

Then she remembered what she had wanted to ask him before he had pulled her into the dance.

"What Eearl say?" Cagalli hissed. "What the hell did you introduce me as?"

"My wife." He said unconcernedly.

"What the hell were you thinking?" She said tensely. "I thought you introduced me as your consort? Like those call-girls? Wasn't that what you told me? I thought nobody would remember me if I just hung around you for one night! Now, they're all going to remember, what with me being your wife, and the way you just pulled us into that tango! And I don't dare ask anyone what's going on. They seem to know me, although this is the first time I've ever seen them!"

"That doesn't matter." He said in so patient a manner that she thought for one fantastic minute that they were all drunk like those at the table. "Ignore them."

But that was illogical. She couldn't have been seen by these people before, certainly not with Athrun, certainly not as Lyra Delphius. Surely, not all of them were drunk and nonsensical?

"No," She insisted. "They must know something that I don't. Tell me."

He moved her around, and she twirled expertly without thinking. Why the hell, she thought furiously, was she still dancing with him?

"There's nothing to tell." He said softly.

The perfumes in the air were pervasive and oppressive, obscene roses that were more like cabbages than blooms. Thankfully, the circus-girl had vanished to meet her admirers and the orchestra had long slowed into a more conventional meter.

As they moved, Cagalli found the questions dying each time they reached the tip of her tongue.

A few times, a few people wanted to trade partners. Athrun politely refused, although he did laugh when they mentioned that he was a jealous husband.

His laugh was cold and she disliked hearing it.

All around them, introductions made minutes ago were heard and forgotten, and hollow laughter drifted everywhere. The Symphony of Modern History, it seemed, was a patchwork of music and a mess of sound and strangeness. There was a fast moving, syncopated beat to it, but the strings made it seem more or less like an orgy of jazz and swing.

Either way, it was grand and solemn, thrillingly pretentious, and Cagalli found herself drunk on repulsion and the inability to describe what she saw around her. The parties she had attended had been equally pretentious and boorish in its splendour and obscenity. But she had been there to strike up the right conversations and to meet the right people who would further Orb's progress. She had seen those parties as part of a job.

Even with dates and parties, she'd made it her personal mission to offend as many potential suitors as possible- otherwise, the whole thing seemed pointless.

It seemed like on The Isle, with nobody she knew, with nobody she was planning to do business with, this party was aimless. She imagined that she was throwing something of her youth away by being at Rochester's mansion.

She moved a bit woodenly, half-steered around. But she lifted a hand off Athrun's shoulder, long enough, past another woman's shoulder, and found the tray that was lifted high in the air.

And Cagalli reached for a goblet amongst the goblets that floated past them on a man whose face they could not see.

"Shouldn't you leave that alone?" Athrun said quietly. He was watching her as they moved amidst the palette of people. They were not quite dancing, but they were in postures that suggested that they were either starting or ending without doing either.

She ignored him and downed it, feeling the warmth settle in her throat and stomach. The heat was a fire in her throat and she coughed a little, feeling ridiculously cheerful but somehow hollow.

"That's the last one you'll have tonight," Athrun told her firmly.

Lazily, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You sound like Jimmy."

"Who is that?"

She was feeling too cheerful to notice that his voice had changed a little.

"Marlin." She bubbled to herself. She giggled. Good Lord, she was giggling.

"James Marlin?" He said as an afterthought to himself. But he made no further comment, and she was too busy blinking in the lights to notice his silence.

A woman's elaborate hairpin caught Cagalli's eye, near Athrun's ear, but then the woman was waltzed off almost immediately, and she lost sight of the jewelled acessory. It was like chasing after butterflies, sudden drops and dots of colours within a Klimt painting of gold leaves and obscure shapes and a thousand eyes everywhere.

They eventually grew tired with the infinity of the waltz and the mechanism at smiling people who approached them. They all made light conversation while feeling heavy with the rich foods that levitated around them, balanced by waiters who looked like waist coated penguins with little red bowties.

The meat was cooked in French-style, all blood and fresh prey. She could not stomach it. But she did take the pastry option, which was a viable alternative to raw meat. She took a bite of something the person next to her was also eating.

Athrun whispered in her ear, "Is it good?"

"Not bad." She muttered back, hiding her whispers with her napkin. "What is it?"

He smiled.

"It's pigeon pie."

She froze, then a second later, hid her regurgitated food within the folds of her napkin that were still hiding her lips.

He shook with silent laughter, and his voice grew soft and teasing. "What?"

"I can't eat a pigeon!" She muttered in outrage.

"But you eat chicken." He murmured back. Daintily, like a cat, he sliced a sliver of veal and put it between sensuously-parted lips.

"It's not the same," She hissed, still hiding her mouth with her napkin as the others talked about other things. "Pigeons are fluffy, cute little things, not damn chickens!"

He grinned and looked on with amusement as she hid the meat under the crust to ensure it looked like she had finished most of her meal. The other food was done in French-style, all meat and blood. She was not used to such refinement.

Upset, she took a swig of champagne, and liking it better than the recollection of pigeon flesh, refilled her glass. Glass after glass was downed- and she was not conscious that efficient little servants were refilling the same glass over and over again.

And Cagalli hardly noticed that her voice was becoming softer and like watered silk, blurred at the edges by the champagne, only that Athrun became more and more agreeable.

She did not know what she was saying to his questions, and for that matter, did not quite understand what he was asking. But she perceived that his face was very pure and pale in the crowd of the colours and that his eyes were like depths and tunnels she was mesmerised by.

And she thought she understood then, why his mouth was always slightly sad.

So when Athrun muttered that he could bear no more, she nodded, smiling with the cheer of champagne and the thrill of being so close to him for so long.

As if they had planned to, as if it they had meant to, they wandered outside the sphere of Lady Rochester's mansion. He watered a tree that blossomed white with the last of his champagne, tossing the goblet away as if he were slightly drunk himself.

The alcohol burnt into something, and there was a hiss, which she did not notice.

And the goblet rolled, as strange as a skull, heavy brass, studded with tourmaline, against the bark of the slender tree.

She clung to hers; drinking greedily, stumbling behind him, not conscious that he was holding her hand. She was thirsty but growing thirstier on what she downed.

Turning, he wrenched the empty goblet from her hand, ignoring her protests, and it suffered the same fate as his goblet, this time against a pillar. She twisted around and saw that the light emitting from the colossal steps of Lady Rochester's home was far away.

"Hey-!"

She was unsure as to whether her indignation rose from the last of her drink being used as a garden sprinkler, or that she was afraid to be away from the comforting mash of people who surrounded them and made her feel secure with her dislike an contempt towards them.

"No." He said firmly. "You're probably half-drunk already."

"No I'm not-," She argued, in reality, saying, "Not I'm know-"

His grip tightened, although his voice was strangely more reminiscent of years she had already forgotten. "Shut up for a bit."

The greenhouse, somewhere in the shroud of trees behind the pavilion, had nobody visiting it. Its dog roses and willow trees were flourishing in the artificial heat, amidst a field of exotic plants.

Cagalli gazed around and saw that only both of them were present. But this had no implication on her next actions. If a dozen people had been there, she might have still done what she did.

Wandering and giggling to herself, she pointed at a bunch of rather surly looking garden gnomes. She was stumbling and skipping at the same time, and her hand was in his as he followed her in a less ungainly manner.

They laughed and amused themselves, darting beneath the hanging vines that threatened to tangle themselves in their hair from the arches of shrubbery. There were fireflies that had been trapped in the place, and they glowed a little in the sepia lights of the place.

Slightly tipsy but still mostly sober, Cagalli trailed one, tripped over some dahlias and found herself in Athrun's arms as he pulled her hand to catch her from falling. A small yelp escaped from her lips, but it was buried as her face turned towards his chest.

He hauled her towards him, seeking her mouth with his.

She ignored him even when she opened her eyes, casting them on the single entrance of the greenhouse. The entire greenhouse extended for half a kilometre and she wondered how many gardeners existed for the place to be maintained.

Perhaps, there were other guests here. She glanced around, expecting a thousand of them to be hiding behind pots, ordered to be breathlessly silent.

Her eyes were channelled at the corner, where a particularly sweet-smelling bower of jasmine called to some fireflies and the dim light of the blue and orange air within the glass house.

Athrun's lips were still teasing hers, and she looked back at him finally. He ran his mouth slowly across hers, and impatiently, she caught his lips, pulling his face to hers.

When they broke for air, she began laughing giddily, soft and with the emptiness that was safer for both of them. But then, she saw that his eyes were serious and his expression was unreadable.

Tormented suddenly, she pulled away and moved to a wooden bench, sitting and staring blankly into the rows of golden rod and clematis. There was no real light in the greenhouse, only a vague, flirtatious glow of cyan tones and twilight lanterns embedded within the curling plants.

He stood before her. "What's the matter?"

"Let's stop this." Cagalli said tiredly. Her head was buzzing with alcohol and resentment. "It's no use at all, is it? You can't trust me and I can't trust you either. You've always kept secrets from me. Even now. I'm not going to fool around with you. It's not worth anything."

His face remained an enigma to her. "I've always wanted you. My being Rune Estragon doesn't change that."

"Seven years have passed." She said acidly. "I'm not just Cagalli Yula Atha anymore. I'm a captive you brought here, and you're Rune Estragon."

She began to laugh painfully. "That's why I hate big parties. They're so intimate."

They both understood what she meant. In the crowds, in the mammoth twirls of people, there was a silence within the cacophony and their thoughts were clearer than ever, their heads amidst but away from the laughter and music. People they met grew more and more agreeable, cursing the host while on the courage of the host's wine. But both of them retreated into the silence of the distaste they could not help but feel what they had hidden for so long.

And Cagalli saw that while the drooping heads of happy people found themselves in a long daisy chain of intoxicated guests, Athrun grew increasingly isolated. The realisation of this made her just as isolated as he was.

There was an essential insincerity the words had, next to the inexpressible voice that was trying to free itself from her heart. He knew there was something that lingered in her voice, an emotion that he was unable to catch hold of, one that she could not articulate clearly.

There was anguish and joy in her voice and a lost expression in her eyes despite her bright and lovely mouth. And he ached to chart her mind once more, but found that she had laid a wilderness before him.

Here, away from everything, everyone, their breath in tandem, the reincarnation was complete. They could be lost in each other, without understanding themselves.

She wanted him then, and her heart ached for something.

"Didn't you know?" Athrun said quietly.

She gulped and wished he would stop spinning, the white, flowering shrubs behind him swaying maddeningly.

"What?"

"I've always loved you. Didn't you know?"

Her face was consumed by hatred for a single second. And she stood up, her hands trembling badly.

"Did you bring me to The Isle for me to hear that? I'm your captive, for Pete's sake! Am I supposed to see you as Athrun Zala and fall in love with you again? I don't want to hear that you love me. I'd rather you kill me quickly without tormenting me. I want to hear you say that you'll let me go back to Orb. "

He studied her. "I thought you were just a captive to me. But it's obvious now that

I still want you after so long."

"Please." There was a pleading anxiety in her voice and face.

"You're afraid of staying here on The Isle because you're afraid that we'll remember the past. No, you're afraid that we'll repeat it."

She turned away, her voice without the vitality that nevertheless, seemed to emerge from her body in every vein and fingertip. "I'm not afraid of anything."

They knew she lied in all respects. Cagalli instinctively rejected the hot, desperate struggles of the rich to live for the sake of living. The way she smiled at those who were friendly, the way she ate for courtesy, the way she sat stiffly in her chair, unable to respond to the flush of humanity around them both-

She had been born into the cold, established money of families before her. The frantic pleasure of the parties she encountered drew unconscious disgust in her. It wasn't desperate, wanton pleasures that disgusted her, but that the purposelessness in her life's events was made starker than ever.

Perhaps, such parties, filled with the inexhaustible promises of living, reminded her of duty and that her life had never been hers to lead, let alone waste for the few hours of Epicurean festivities. She was afraid to love. She was afraid to live.

And for those reasons, Cagalli had sat still for so long, smiling a small and cold smile, a lone figure amidst the whirl and crackle of the world.

His voice rose as a challenge. "You're afraid. You're afraid of me."

"I'm not." She said angrily. "I'm not afraid of you-,"

"Then show me," He interrupted. He wrenched her against a white marble which was adorned with a thin beard of creeping blossoms, her body warm and panting against the leaves.

He did not spare a glance at the statue. But if he had, he might have thought it apt that the sculpture was Aphrodite's form, Paris' golden apple in her hands.

The only way to overcome temptation was to give in to it.

He raked his mouth across hers, tasting warm mead and her protests. It was her instinct to struggle against everything, and this did not deter him, but intensified the desire to possess her. He would. It was only a matter of time.

When she responded, he moved from the desperate passion to a slow, lingering fervour. She was kissing him hungrily, guiding his hands to her breasts, her gloved hands inky and smooth against his neck and shoulders. He did not hesitate, pulling his gloves off and putting them in his pocket- she was his golden filly, wasn't she? Surely, he could take her?

He bit softly into her neck, one hand like water against her sloping back, the other pressed where she had guided him to.

She muffled her cry by burying her mouth in his hair, her elbows resting heavily on his shoulders. Her acceptance pleased him, and her submission ignited him.

When he pulled away, he saw how her hands were clamped around his shoulders and face, his own around her waist. He straightened his tie and she tried to smooth the wrinkles in her dress where his hands had burnt against the cloth, and she avoided his gaze.

He made up his mind then, and reached for her hand. "We're going. We're getting out of here."

She stared, disorientated, but he pulled her with him.

Her voice crackled above the crickets' song, protesting and apprehensive. "But if we disappear like that-,"

"We'll go," He interrupted. "Just follow my cue."

Within minutes, they were in the bright glare of the chandeliers and the portraits of gardens stared at them.

Nobody else seemed to be looking at them, although a woman was singing in a quavering, crying voice with a glass perched precariously in her palm. The crowds around her were cheering her on. A pet monkey was perched on the piano, the finishing touch to the circus.

They found Lady Rochester, her face nearly hidden by the ostrich plumes of another guest's headdress. She appeared to be asleep while standing, giving a little start when Athrun addressed her. Her jowls wobbled perilously as she made a funny, little action with her tongue, as if she was scratching for the remnants of food in her mouth.

"My lady," He said politely, "I apologise, but Lyra has caught a cold. She should return to rest, not for her sake, but for fear that other guests begin to display similar symptoms."

Cagalli wondered how ignorant Athrun was expecting Rochester to be.

The women fawning over Lady Rochester were sharing stage whispers. One was openly pointing at Cagalli's lips. She did not dare put a hand to her mouth to feel how warm and swollen it was.

"Now," The host said with a frown, "I didn't expect both of you to be running off so early. Lady Estragon looked fine this evening! Very fine, in fact."

"As you can see," Athrun said smoothly, "She needs her rest."

"Both of you can stay here," a woman piped up, her eyes watching and her mouth laughing, "The hostess always provides a room for everybody. The beds are large enough for three, let alone two."

"Don't want to spread the flu," Cagalli said, with her voice naturally wheezing and weak.

They all stared at her, and she tried to look a bit lethargic despite her racing heart and her warm palms. Her eyes focused on the third flap under Rochester's chin, because she could not look into the insect eyes and remain calm simultaneously.

Even looking straight at Athrun's face, free of all emotion but with something moving in his eyes, would have made her lose the last of her reserves.

"Alright then," Rochester relented eventually. "Estragon, you must come and visit me more often! You have yet to see me wear the present."

"I will." He said dutifully, looking at Cagalli with a strange mischievousness that she had only seen once or twice before.

"Oh, and Lyra too," Lady Rochester added rather unwillingly.

Cagalli bit her lips, trying to refrain from bursting into laughter. When Athrun led her into the darkness, her voice swelled into the sky with the happy, vacuous bursts of laughter that blossomed all over the behemoth lawn.

A girl had ripped her dress and was bemoaning the fate of her lost earring, but similar losses were rampant and nobody spared her their pity.

They passed along the path of the trees, passing what must have been an arch during day time. The scent of magnolias festered in the air, and she shivered a little. "Do I actually look like I have a cold?"

"Do they dare say otherwise?" He said calmly. Fearlessly, almost as if she had begged him to, he slipped an arm around her shoulders in a manner that suggested that nobody could be near her, save him.

Behind them, a young man was leading a girl somewhere into the mazes of shrubbery, the girl giggling coquettishly and his smile a bit telling of what they were up to.

She understood his intent. Nobody had questioned his explanation of their need to return to the manor. There was a common understanding amongst the guests that trysts could be held anywhere at any time, but that Rune Estragon probably preferred to have his trysts somewhere else.

Distracted at the laughter and muffled sounds behind the dense dark mazes that filtered into the air around her, Cagalli turned to her right. As she did, the world swerved, and she knew she had had too much to drink.

Athrun, on her left, remained very still, apparently ignoring the hints of promiscuousness and provocative life that the world held. Cagalli, on the other hand, was simultaneously attracted and repulsed by the vitality and vulgarity of his world.

And she saw that somewhere else, lights were flitting, man made and fireflies not very different in the blur of alcohol and her clouded senses.

The moon was clearing behind the frame of clouds in the dark sky, and she saw that the left side of Athrun's face was menacing in its lack of expression.

Startled, she took a step back, suddenly frightened and sober for a fatalistic second. His arm was still around her shoulders.

"Where's the car?" She said tentatively.

He made no movement, save the slight parting of his lips. "Coming."

She strained her eyes, searching for headlights, and then, saw a distant weaving of bright lights flashing up in the winding roads beyond the eastern gate of the Rochester Estate.

His lips moved silently

"Pardon?" She said in confusion.

But he did not answer, producing and pulling the scarf around her eyes, knotting it securely. She was blinded but her other senses became more acute. She perceived the girl's frantic cries of pleasure and her partner's panting beyond the first layer of distant music from the golden, lighted halls. Those echoed in her head, and she did not know if she was imagining those or not.

They stood in the gathering cold and long-established darkness. She wondered why the crickets were chirping so loudly, why they were singing in such vain, and why Athrun was not saying anything. The girl's murmuring and the strain of a man's hoarse voice was muffled from far away, extricating themselves from the boundary of trees.

Then Cagalli heard the skid of wheels on the pavement, and she was only aware that a door was opening and Athrun's hand was on hers, cool and silver to feel with his gloves. She climbed into the car, feeling rather like a mole in a tunnel, and within seconds, felt his weight settle next to her.

The whoosh of the car door's suction and the silence as the vehicle slid forward made her nerves strain and her senses taut with her thoughts. She thought about him and shivered, and wondered if the pale, well-defined fingers were locked together.

His palms might have been arched towards each other, in prayer or deep thought. Perhaps, he was holding his hands together. Or perhaps, they were somewhere near her. She shivered, thinking. His hands had resembled limestone, fair and smooth against her throat and breasts.

Surely, she had known what it meant to allow him to touch her, what he expected of her once she had allowed him this. She knew the danger of the world around them and the uncertainty involved, but she wanted him still. It was all she wanted there and then.

When the car finally stopped, she heard him opening the door, getting out, and opening the door she must have sat next to. Blindly, she held out her hand, patting air, and he took it, leading her out.

They did not say anything as he guided her forward, but in her blindness, she knew that the steady rhythm of his heart was changing and his pulse was increasing.

She had sensed their urgency as he led her up the steps, and wondered why he did not remove the blindfold even when the maids stood ready.

She heard their soft, hoarse voices, questioning, and then trailing off as Athrun continued to step forward.

"No." He said decisively, in a murmuring, low voice. "I'll bring her back to her room myself."

Cagalli wondered if Epstein was watching them, whether he saw her like this, blindfolded, completely needy on Athrun.

He walked at a quick pace, guiding her, and she heard the door being unlocked and then clicking shut.

The hand on hers was suddenly removed, and frightened, she put out her hands to the blindfold. But his fingers were already unknotting it and she froze as it slipped off her face to her shoulders, then the floor.

From behind, his arms collected her, a forearm diagonally across and up her chest, its hand fastened on her shoulder. His other arm rested diagonally across down to her waist, its hand on her hip. He murmured her name, nibbling her earlobe and she trembled, feeling his reaction towards her grow.

And she turned her head towards his mouth and found him ready for her. She was scarcely thinking, mad with pleasure and pleased with the kind of attention that he'd never paid to her before.

The liquor she'd consumed burned in her entrails, the final goblet that she'd downed that evening suddenly rising with those before it like a mist in her.

She wasn't afraid of him. He didn't mean anything to her, anything that she was afraid of. She'd show him.

His fingers were undoing the row of buttons behind her back deftly, reaching for the thin straps that supported the golden column she was sheathed in. Those came off easily and her dress pooled heavily around her ankles as he moved to face her and guided her out of it and towards the bed.

Stumbling a little, Cagalli looked into his face and tried to remember whether it had haunted her. He feasted on her mouth, aware that the thin chemise she wore was sensuous against her skin and his.

Slowly, she reached forward and touched his brow, tracing a line down the closed eyelid and the ridge of his nose and pausing at his lips.

There was a kind of longing, misery and wonder in her eyes, and he was touched by the single emotion he had understood in that blinding moment.

But before he could respond, her mood had changed again. He did not understand her fickleness, the way she drew him in with her melancholy and yet enticed him. For Cagalli had buried her face near his shoulder, saying playfully, "Well? Shall we stand here all night?"

He responded with more sense than sensibility, his body speaking rather than his mental facilities.

"God forbid."

She mounted the bed, closing her eyes and alert but dazed at the same time. His fingers busied themselves at her earlobes, and she whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Those are expensive," He murmured. "And you're wearing far too much."

She turned her head just in time to see both earrings being tossed where the gleaming, golden dress lay. Her arms were soft against the coarser material of his suit. She pulled him out of his jacket rashly, pulling his shirt out so she could run her hands up his abdomen, marvelling at the taut muscle and soft flesh that seemed closer to her own than the mask of his linen shirt.

Kneeling over her, he put his hands to his lips, peeling his gloves off with his teeth, and she moaned, imagining that he was doing the same with her chemise. But he undid his tie impatiently and kissed her deeply and deftly.

She took his tie from his hands and threw it on the floor. And he said vehemently, "If I meet the man who invented the tie, I'll strangle him with his own invention."

She laughed dizzily, but he smiled tenderly, a smile that she saw and registered only half of. There was a disconnection somewhere, the heady lust of her drunken body, and his soberness. The exhilaration of seeing his smile was one thing, understanding it was another.

When had he last looked so human, so vulnerable? She tried to recall, but found the alcohol impeding the flow of her memories. There were only the needs of their bodies, flushed with youth, excitement and heat. Everything would be dismissed in the morning with alcohol as their scapegoat.

All she wanted was to have him once, to finally know him once, and to have him love her, just for a few hours, before he became Rune Estragon again, and she the captive, the Orb Princess.

His voice was whispering something about how nobody could take their eyes off her that night, though she hadn't noticed. Cagalli chuckled and said abstractly, "Rochester couldn't take her eyes off you either. You know how to please the ladies, don't you?"

"She's not a lady," Athrun said archly. "She's a fucking cow."

She threw back her head and half-moaned and half-laughed as he fondled her breasts through the silk chemise and kissed her white shoulder. "Father Zala swears! What else? Steals? Murders? Plunders?"

"You don't know many things about me." He said ruefully, and she thought that this was true.

But she couldn't care to dwell on the ambivalence of his words, feverish with pleasure. And she raked her hands, their scarlet nails, talons she couldn't get used to seeing on his sleeve. "You'll please me tonight, won't you?"

His smile lingered in her mind even after it faded from his face, a slow, teasing smile that made her shiver. "You'll see."

She was running her hands through his hair distractedly, tipsy and her thoughts badly fragmented. The man who was kissing her neck might have been any random person at that point, while she was in her state. And Cagalli was comforted that in the morning, everything would sort itself out, and for now, allow the night to be led by the heat that pooled in her.

"Do for me what you do to the others," She commanded in her stupor.

"You're worth more than the whole damn bunch of them put together." He told her, his eyes no longer playful. "Did you see them? All made-up and polished without any worth."

She could not respond, because she was busy kissing and nibbling at his neck.

"Seven years," He murmured. And this is what it comes to."

"A single night," She said in a dim, blind sort of voice, unaware of the emotions that were building behind the single façade of blind lust.

He raked his hands down her shoulders and thighs, noticing how lush her body was. Despite her tomboyishness, she was clearly more desirable than any woman he had ever been with.

He kissed her collarbone. "And all that time when we were so close by each other, I never did more than struggle with our fathers and their selfishness."

She began to speak, in a disconnected, rambling manner that revealed her tipsy state. "My father isn't selfish, don't say-I know that-,"

"Look at you." He said intently, gazing at the breasts he had kissed greedily through the fabric of her shift. "I should have done this earlier."

He wondered why he had never made love to her a single time before. They had been too young then, he reflected. He had been inexperienced where a real relationship was concerned- he knew women early and they spoiled him, so he grew jaded with virgins for their inexperience and cynical about those with experience.

His first encounter with his senior had been more of education than a relationship, and his subsequent girlfriends had been something of a finishing school.

The women he had been with were outlets for a man's needs and frustration. Those had even become a sort of personal rebellion against the properness that Patrick Zala's son would be assumed to symbolise. But in the camps where trysts were common, there was nothing very jaw-dropping about what young men and women did in their spare time.

But Cagalli was another kind of issue altogether. She had been pure but with the sort of sensuality accentuated by her denial of it, and doing more than kissing had seemed unthinkable. So he hadn't minded bedding other women, but he could not bear to do more than kiss Cagalli. There had been a sort of hypocrisy in the past, where he was concerned with Cagalli and the women he'd had before her.

And seven years later, something about her had changed again. He could not ignore it. It persisted in his mind. And vaguely, he wondered if he could impact the blank canvas of her life, the way she lived for a dead man but not for herself.

Desire blossomed in him and he murmured that he wanted her more than anything else. In her state, she was uninhibited, demanding and unaware of who he was.

She did not seem to hear him, distracted by something he could not perceive. He had already removed her chemise, revealing the lace undergarments she wore. The diamond necklace hung above the silk and ivory lace brassier, and he lifted the dazzling string with a hooked finger, inspecting the maddening gleam of the stones and the flesh it had sat on.

She whispered that she wanted him to love her, for a few hours at least.

And then he understood. In one irrevocable moment, pushed her away from him.

She did not notice, only pulled him to her, eager to resume their kiss, and she smiled absent-mindedly and tears ran from the corners of her eyes. He wiped them away and saw that she was shaking and something in her was sobbing.

His name came in a slurred form, and she was not totally drunk but not sober enough for him to take her.

He separated himself from her, trying to keep his eyes on her face. She looked bewildered, but the state of her soberness was questionable even as she reached for him and caught only air before finding him.

"You're drunk." Athrun said emotionlessly. The deliberate coldness was present again. But in him, the same turmoil and lust threatened to take control of his hands and voice.

"I'm not really," She insisted, slurring a little.

"Perhaps." He admitted, "But you're not sober enough."

Cagalli's eyes followed his hands as they buttoned the first two buttons she had gotten loose from their slots. "Does it matter?"

He moved off from the bed and stood up, hating the pain that burst in his body and chest, threatening to make him turn back and take her within that very hour. "Yes."

"Why?" She demanded, trying to ignore the hazy hurt and shock that her fuzzy mind was registering only slightly. Her voice was fighting to be steady but it was ridiculously firm as well. "I'm a grownup. I'm not afraid of anything."

Then she added, foolishly with the liquor guiding her, "I can do whatever I want."

"No." Athrun said morosely. "You want to sleep with me as some kind of rebellion against everything that dictates your life. But you'll dismiss it in the morning, and push the responsibility of your actions on the liquor."

Her eyes, hazy and dimmed, focused for a second and then became weak once more.

"I don't want a simple fuck or shag." He said flatly. "When I make love to you, I want you to remember me in the morning and for the rest of your life. I want you to be fully conscious that I took you and that you wanted me to. I won't let you dismiss it as a fling in the morning with the excuse of alcohol."

He stooped down and kissed her on her mouth, lingering, as he had even for the hostess that night. The emerald eyes were stormy and with that strange gentleness she did not want to feel from someone like him towards her.

She stared at him, trembling a little, and her eyes were unfocused, not comprehending, but the sober part of her understood that he was tormenting her.

And she closed her eyes, aware that tears leaked from them. He had turned to leave and the door was being locked once more.

* * *

4 months 3 days.


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

The Rochester Manor was steeped in a general air of disconcertment. The body that Lord Tessington had stumbled upon had already been brought to the Cliffside, but the guests' minds were still on it.

Nobody knew what would happen to the body once the authorities came for it. Nobody knew how Nigel Ink, the butler, had really died. But the guests decided on one thing.

Rune Estragon was definitely innocent- that is; if there had even been a crime.

As far as most of them were concerned, the butler's death had resulted from an accident, not a conspiracy.

Now, the guests ambled about like semi-sedated animals, muttering in their annoyance, rubbing sleep from their eyes, struggling with their hangovers.

They should have been asleep, in the rooms the butler had allocated for them, but no, Tessington had to wake them up, had to make a big fuss over nothing-

For Lord Tessington had stumbled into the pantry for aspirin around six-forty five in the morning. Upon his arrival, he found a portly, avuncular looking butler, a syringe next to him and his mouth foaming. Nigel Ink had sported a gaping wound on his forehead, some blood bearing testimony on a table corner.

At that time, Lord Tessington had concluded that the butler had fallen, having stumbled from some kind of drug overdose. He'd hit his head, and died instantly.

So Lord Tessington fetched his aspirin as naturally and with as much dignity he could, stepping cleanly over the body's head.

Then he'd woken the other guests, the servants and the host with the indifference one ought to show to a butler.

Conversely, Lady Rochester had reacted with great agitation.

"That Ink," Rochester bellowed. "He died from a drug overdose and on my birthday night, no less. Shirking his duties for some heroin! The disgrace!"

Most knew that Nigel Ink had been long addicted to heroin for years. It was a tad strange that Ink should have chosen last night to have an overdose.

Whatever the case, a cardinal rule of The Isle was that every death had to be reported within one hour of discovery to an authority. A few servants had been instructed to bring the body to the drop-off point- the Cliffside. The authorities would handle it from there. The servants had returned quickly- the Cliffside was rumoured to be both haunted and out of bounds to anyone except the authorities.

There was no face to the authorities- they were invisible enforcers of The Isle's rules. Nobody knew who the main authority was, but nobody cared.

In truth, The Isle was for people who were escaping the societies they had come from, and any departure of a conventional system was accepted, if not, welcomed.

Still, the guests were free to discuss the butler's death.

"What if someone killed the butler, intentionally or unintentionally?" Tessington said aloud. Now that the body was out of sight, he felt more comfortable talking about it.

Now, the Magwitches leapt at the opportunity to insult their enemies, the Donovans. The Magwitches claimed that it was a conspiracy and that the Donovans were behind it.

Mickey Magwitch claimed loudly, "Ink probably spotted Wilfred Donovan being frisky with another female guest. I bet Ink threatened to tell Marie Donovan."

"So Ink was effectually blackmailing Wilfred, and Wilfred had had to silence the butler." His wife chimed in.

"Ho! A tall tale, right there! Only scum can weave such tales." Wilfred Donovan said brashly, brandishing his cigar.

"Right back at you, asshole!"

To settle the dispute and put her guests' mind at ease, Lady Rochester promised that the culprit would be caught.

"That is, if there was any besides Ink's carelessness," She drawled, taking a puff of her own brand of opium.

"Well," Tessington said pompously, quite enjoying the Sherlock Holmes role he had assumed, "Let's imagine that Ink died at someone's hands. Two possible scenarios- one, he offended somebody, who pumped an overdose into him. Two, he and another guest had a happy hour that cost him his life, but fortunately, not the other druggie's."

Ink had died early in the morning, around four, and his overdose and concussion had been instantly lethal.

"Logically, those who had left the party before four were probably not the perpetrators." Another guest reckoned.

A servant fetched a guest list, and Tessington took charge of it, a pen in his hand to strike off names. But who had left the party by that time?

With the wine and dancing, nobody could quite remember who had left and by what time. There were quite a few guests who had left early, that is, before four. But how early before four was questionable.

So the guests had bickered over this. Some servants had been too drunk to remember, including the valet and the head maid.

But the guests agreed that if there was one who could be cleared of all reasonable doubt, it was Rune Estragon. Rune Estragon was certainly not involved with all of this, assuming that there was even a murder and conspiracy.

How could that man be involved when he was so preoccupied with that woman he called his wife?

All the guests could remember Estragon's consort, she in the golden dress and her golden, cascading hair. The diamonds she wore were spectacular, and those outshone everything other women had.

Nobody really believed she was Estragon's wife, of course- he had far too many options to stick with just one woman.

"She can't have been his wife," Lady Yolanda sniffed. "As if he'd marry. As if he'd marry someone like her!"

"Maybe," Her husband said sharply. "He decided that she was the best damn thing he could find." He glared pointedly at his wife. "Maybe, Estragon told you that she was his wife so that you wouldn't throw yourself at him."

She flashed a mocking sneer. "Maybe he told you that she was his wife so that you'd keep your hands off his whore!"

The point was that Estragon and his consort had left early to carry on with their shenanigans. Everyone could remember how they had exited slightly after midnight, with a chauffeur who came promptly. A dozen guests had remembered the shamelessness of those two.

"Did you see anything like that dress?" One guest exclaimed. "Without a coat, no less!"

"Did you see anything like that tango?" Lady Jemima sniffed. The other women were looking scandalised.

"Did you ever see anything like that tango?" Lord Gargone repeated in an admiring voice. His wife shot him a look of pure poison.

So Rune Estragon was unlikely to have stayed behind to have caused Ink's demise in any way- he had been seen with his blonde consort the whole evening. Not once, had he left her side.

It was because everyone had their eyes on Lyra Delphius, and by extension, Rune Estragon, that they could attest to the couple's innocence. Estragon had been seen with that woman for an entire night, without meeting the butler even once. And because everyone had seen the couple leave early, they thought that it was unlikely that the butler's death was connected to him.

"Ink was around here, giving out the keys and the drinks when that couple were in the greenhouse," Rochester reminded everyone. "Estragon didn't even speak to Ink, even once, because he didn't leave his wife's side. How could he have a motive, or even the time to conspire against Ink? "

And unanimously, the guests agreed and confirmed that the Estragon couple had left particularly early. They had left too early to be involved with Ink.

"What time did they leave?" Someone asked.

"Ooh- twelve, definitely around there."

"Absolutely, I remembered the time too!"

"I, too, remember. Twelve, without a doubt."

A few servants swore that they had seen the couple enter the greenhouse before they'd suddenly returned to the main hall and announced their departure.

What had they been up to in the greenhouse?

"The usual mischief," Tessington said, shrugging.

But that was probably the only mischief they'd been up to. At that time, Ink had been alive, giving out keys to the guests who wanted to retire for the night, or have little, private parties in their allocated rooms.

Everyone could remember Lyra Delphius and her 'flu'. It had been very clear that Rune Estragon had taken his consort outside from the party for a bit of private fun and had came back to say goodbye so that they could continue back home.

"Good god," Lady Hertoise complained, "It was so obvious that they couldn't keep their hands off each other and wanted to go off early to bed! She was obviously a whore passing off as his wife! Whores like her are everywhere! No man would marry a woman like that!"

"I would!" Someone shouted. Suddenly, there was a chorus from a large group of males.

"She was a downright stunner," Lord Tessington said archly to Rochester. "I say, I could remember her face the whole evening, despite seeing over sixty guests. She certainly knew how to make an impression- everyone kept their eyes on them the whole evening."

And more than a few people had seen them leaving in a car, amongst them, Lady Sophie and Lady Ursula's husband- of course, nobody questioned what the two had been doing when they'd seen Rune Estragon leave in a car with Lyra Delphius.

Therefore, everyone decided that Rune Estragon and his consort couldn't have had anything to do with Ink's murder. It was so improbable, it was impossible.

But the Donovans weren't happy with this conclusion.

"If not one guest," Marie Donovan said sharply, "Then obviously another who met up with the butler! Maybe it was an accidental killing!"

She glared at the Magwitches, implying that they had been fraternising with the butler and perhaps force-feeding him an over dosage of heroin.

While Rochester tried to calm both couples down, Lord Tessington continued to think. A guest list was in his hands, and his eyes strayed to one name, far past Rune Estragon.

A potential suspect was Lord Selman Mullin. Other than him and the Estragon couple, no other guest had left Rochester's grounds. Mullin had vanished from the room he'd stayed in. Even the suitcase he had carried that night was missing.

Even when guests had been awoken by Tessington and they had filed out of the corridors, his room had remained locked. When the servants had unlocked it, they found not Mullin, but a rope extending from the window, anchored to the bedpost.

Everyone was sure then, that Mullin was connected to Ink's death. He was another heroin-addict, just like Nigel Ink.

Mullin had probably woken up in the morning at three-something, met up with the butler, had their happy hour with the drugs, and witnessed Ink's overdose. Everyone knew that Mullin dealt in the drugs business- he obviously did some personal quality control and sampling for himself.

Most probably, Mullin had probably become scared after realising that Ink had hit and killed himself. Then Mullin had gone and locked himself in his room from the inside, then ran by climbing out of the window with a rope he'd found. The man had even taken his suitcase with him to remove traces of his presence.

"Probably," Lord Miachelis boomed, "Mullin had heroin in the suitcase too. Found some in the room, didn't we? And the pantry too. Mullin got scared and climbed out of his window after locking himself in the room."

"So it was probably him and Ink's own carelessness with the heroin." Lord Tessington announced. Inwardly, he relished the role of producing the conclusion.

Rochester was bored by this time. "I say it was Ink's own carelessness. Mullin probably just witnessed it and got cold feet. Even if he did hold some drug party in the pantry, that butler had it coming. But to be sure, I'll have the servants look at the guest list and see about this in the meantime."

The guests stared at the guest list. There would be two hundred other suspects, assuming that Ink had died of anything except his own folly.

"I say," Lord Tessington announced loudly, "It's not worth the trouble."

The Donovans and Magwitches agreed heartily.

After all, it was nearly breakfast time and nobody cared about a butler except the gossip his death generated.

* * *

At twelve in the afternoon, Athrun sat at the head of the long table, listening quietly as five people debated amongst themselves.

That morning, the secondary aides had removed Nigel Ink's body from the Cliffside and buried it a few hundred feet below. Thousands of flowers grew in wild spurts of colour in that little sheltered region of the cliffside.

Four years ago, it had been Lyra's flower patch, only that she had never discovered why flowers grew so well there. She was after all, a native of The Isle, unlike those escaping the world outside it. If she had been one of those, she would have known that the Cliffside was out of bounds, save as a deposition area for bodies. She would have been able to deduce that the bodies were not just deposited there- they were buried in the vicinity.

But naturally, she was unaware of this, putting the land out of mind once Athrun had obtained the property from her and 'sold it to the authorities'.

Athrun found that his mind was distracted by more than these thoughts. He thought of the previous night and the events that had transpired.

In his mind, Cagalli's unfocused eyes, blurred with tears and the sweet, tanginess of champagne lingering in her mouth haunted him. Laid on the bed, she had been almost entirely accessible to him, save the sparse undergarments.

He felt an uncomfortable, but intensely pleasurable heat pool towards his loins, and he coughed a little.

Someone put a cup of coffee in front of him, and he looked up and smiled at the Third Eye, Barnett Romia.

Her short, auburn curls were arranged in an adorable stump of a ponytail, and she was very charming in a knee-length muslin tunic. Already, the Seventh Eye, Tom Edgeworth was staring away from his file of documents, but she was oblivious to this.

Athrun took the coffee gratefully and grinned at her.

They looked towards the other Eyes who were speaking furiously amongst themselves.

"I know you're tired out from that party," She whispered, reminding him of a jay with bright-eyes. "Rochester hasn't learnt after all these years, has she? She was accused of corruption, dealing with the contrabands, and embezzling tax funds for her parties. It got so bad, didn't it, that she had to flee from Jamaica? And she's still throwing those here!"

Athrun smiled slowly. "Old habits die hard."

"Her party worked in our favour," Barnett continued, still murmuring while the other Eyes continued their main discussion, "Thanks to you."

He smiled at her, flipping a page to suggest that she should return to her seat.

She took the cue well enough and moved back, two seats away from him, and Tom Edgeworth immediately turned to her.

Barnett Romia, twenty-two, had been a child prodigy and a brilliant chemist even by Coordinator standards. Most Coordinators graduated from universities by the time they were fifteen, but she had finished by the time she was nine.

She knew how every newly created poison might function. Being highly meticulous, she could time deaths and when a soufflé raised with accuracy measured by milliseconds.

Athrun relied very much on this ability of hers- although it had failed him once where Decant Corriolis' titanic will and murderous intent was concerned. Nevertheless, she had helped all of them last night, supplying the heroin and the various drugs that Athrun had needed for his plan to work.

But Barnett ignored Tom now, and Tom fell silent, looking a bit sulky.

Athrun tried to concentrate on the current issues as well. The Eyes were discussing the contents in Selman Mullin's suitcase that Tequila Clarriker had brought back.

Already, the Second Eye Lent Mortimer was discussing the next few steps with the Ninth Eye, Orlick Churchill.

At this point, Tom looked at him and said mockingly, "How did you enjoy Rochester's manhandling you last night?"

Barnett frowned but didn't say anything, and Tom didn't seem to notice her disapproval either.

Athrun smiled mildly, quite used to Tom's ways. "She was busy with her fiftieth birthday. She had hardly any time for me."

The Eighth Eye, Leopold Wasser, his carroty crop of hair a constant source of confusion for donkeys, broke into humour. He was thirty-six, and had a habit of putting all his weight onto one leg of the chair, like an irrepressible schoolboy.

"You're a lousy liar, and a horrible man. Did you really think that Rochester wanted diamonds for her birthday?" He grinned. "I think she probably wanted you to present yourself as her present."

Leopold's chair swivelled dangerously but kept its balance.

"Well," Barnett said hastily, "I'm sure Rune wouldn't have let her."

"Besides," Tom said lazily, "The Fifth Eye brought along someone to deter her advances."

"Exactly," Lent said heartily, his pleasant, unassuming face kind, framed by dark-rimmed spectacles. "They will never trace or even suspect that Rune Estragon was involved in the death of Ink. The guest list was taken out this morning to single out suspects. But Tequila tells me that your name was one of those to be immediately struck off it. Nobody really guessed how Lady Rochester's butler died."

Athrun, on the other hand, had a very good understanding of how Ink, the butler, had died.

Only Nigel Ink knew which rooms belonged to which guest. Knowing who slept in which room with who was information that could cause great scandal, and Rochester trusted only her butler to handle the delicate operation.

Out of sixty servants, only Ink allocated and knew the rooms assigned to each person and whether they stayed the night in another guest's room or not.

But Ink had a tiny little problem. He was a heroin-addict.

Nobody amongst the guests, save Athrun and the pretty Lady Dolce Mignonettie, the personal friend of Lady Donovan, knew that Ink had been locked up and rendered unconscious once the party started.

The butler who had appeared as Ink had been planted in from that point, and he had used a different guest list that Lady Dolce had secretly drawn up.

The new Ink had allocated the guests rooms to stay in, as the original Ink would have done.

The guests who had used the rooms assigned had simply taken the keys Ink had given them when they decided that they had partied enough.

Amongst the guests who had taken a key and stayed overnight was Lord Selman Mullin. He had carried a suitcase that Athrun was in charge of retrieving.

Now, the suitcase they had obtained was encased in glass, and Barnett Romia was staring at it, a sample of the powder in a tube, her fingers curled around it.

"So you see," Lent concluded briskly, "It was a job well done. Rune got the suitcase, and he left no trace of his involvement."

"He had help," Tom Edgeworth said briefly. The patch he wore on his left eye did little to distract from his dark hair, pale skin and handsome features, along with the single electric blue eye that peered at Athrun. "I want more coffee."

"Get it yourself," Barnett snapped. "I'm not your slave."

"Tut tut," Tom said laughingly, "I wasn't addressing you but you responded to my orders."

Athrun looked on with amusement. Orlick Churchill, shy of his forty-secondth birthday but with more grey than dark hair, puffed away and then tossed the cigar somewhere into a bin behind them.

He was the kind of man who overflowed from any chair he was given. He was by no means obese; merely a man whose voice and frame was larger than the average person's. He did not have a handsome face, but there was strength and dignity in it.

"Shut it, both of you. Bickering like children. Just obtaining that suitcase and they're all happy like cats with milk."

Barnett stuck out her tongue and Tom, who looked disgruntled.

"Relax," Lent Mortimer chuckled. "Selman Mullin took hook, bait and sinker. It was all thanks to Estragon that we got the suitcase and its contents."

"Yes," Churchill said, though a bit grudgingly. "Estragon sent men to stage a break-in last week to get Mullin all jittery about having that suitcase around. And Mullin took the suitcase out of his safe and carried it everywhere in him."

"That fool thought it wouldn't be safe in the house, so he brought it with him to Lady Rochester's birthday celebration. He counted on its contents to earn him some extra money with his businesses." Tom said triumphantly.

"It helps that Rochester owns nearly sixty percent market share of the world's drug companies." Barnett added. "Well, make that fifty, since we have that ten percent that Rune got from her last year."

Athrun kept his face impassive, not wanting to recall that unpleasant encounter.

The Sixth Eye suddenly spoke. Her voice was like wet velvet, and she had the air of charisma about her that made the others look at her. Sheba Velasco was one of those women who never had to raise their voices to be heard.

She tossed her beautiful head, and the snowy hair fell over her shoulders, one eye shaded, the other glinting in her bored face and her tan, honeyed skin inviting and dewy.

"So Rune planted Tequila Clarriker and Whigam Karasuma there as Dolce Mignonettie and the second Nigel Ink respectively. When Mullin wanted to retired for the night, he got the keys from Whigham-cum-Ink," She deduced. "He didn't know that it wasn't the real butler. He was sent to a room where Tequila and Tom were waiting. The real Ink was already unconscious, locked in a case, in that room."

The multiple and mismatched silver earrings glinted in her heavily pierced ears, and she might have passed off as a runway regular on any day.

"I didn't like that bit of the plan though," Leopold complained. "Whigham-cum-Ink sent Mullin to the room where Tequila, or should I say, Dolce Mignonettie, was waiting. What if Tequila was seen going into that room?"

"Nobody saw," Tom said drolly. "The only person who saw Tequila go into that corridor, into that room, was Whigham-cum-Ink. Whigham was Ink the butler by then, and he made sure nobody was around to see Tequila going into that room."

"Tequila knows what he's doing too." Lent said to Tom, adjusting his metal spectacles in a way that reminded Athrun of Sai Argle. "He wrote a new room-arrangement list in Ink's hand and left that list back at Rochester's estate. All Whigham-cum-Ink had to do was to follow the new room-arrangements."

"Poor Mullin," Leopold Wasser said suddenly, shaking his carroty head. "To be tricked like that. To be sent to a room, hoping for some fun, only to be rendered unconscious and captured."

Tequila Clarriker, Lent's aide, was a boy. A boy with pretty, soft features and plump, gentle hands, no doubt, but a boy nonetheless. Below the wig of long, red silky curls, he had mint-coloured hair that would have revealed his Coordinator background immediately. Of course, Tequila's true face was rarely seen, since he was often disguised. He had made Whigham look like Ink, and for himself, he had transformed into a Lady Dolce Mignonettie.

"With a total of two-hundred and fourteen guests, the original butler needed a list." Athrun said. "He never shared this list with anyone, because he had been ordered not to. So Tequila forged a list for our replacement butler to use."

"Why got through all that trouble? Why couldn't the replacement butler use the original list that you had obtained from the real butler?" Leopold asked.

"We needed a room that was easy to plant a trap in. The one we used was nearer to the area the car was stationed at, and it faced only trees and no other room." Athrun answered. "When Tom obtained Ink's list, he realised that the room faced many others and it was difficult to transport Mullin to the car from the original room. So Tom destroyed the original list before Ink was left in Rochester's pantry. The fake list that Whigham Karasuma had used all night was left on Ink's body as a replacement. Whigham also planted some heroin in Mullin's room, and later on the butler's body.

Leopold nodded. "No wonder the guests thought that the suitcase carried heroin and nothing very special."

"That's strange," Sheba said sharply. "The real Ink was supposed to be unconscious, not dead."

"He struggled," Tom said, shrugging nonchalantly. "He knocked himself on an open drawer and kicked the bucket. So we just injected heroin into him and made it look like he died of an overdose and a concussion as he fell. It was easier for us as well- because he died, Whigham could leave the body there in the pantry and scram fast. If he had stayed on into the morning, he would have had to appear as the butler. And he'd have been questioned about Mullin's disappearance. That would have been more difficult to handle."

"I see." Sheba said slowly. "And what about an autopsy? If Rochester arranges for one, the butler's time of death will not correspond with what his death looks like."

"Ah," Churchill said immediately. "But you forget the sixth rule here of The Isle. All corpses must be surrendered to the authorities within an hour of finding it. Nobody except the authorities are permitted to perform autopsies. In this case, we don't even have to bother."

"Knowing them," Leopold said in a brittle voice, "They would have dropped the body off very fast so they could get on with their partying. Nobody's going to care about a butler. Sheba's worries are unfounded."

"It was a perfect plan, even if Ink died." Tom insisted. "Mullin was knocked out with the shot Barnett gave us to use, and we tied and swung his body. It was like a cable car on a rope, from the window into Estragon's car boot. The trees everywhere blocked anyone from seeing something swinging above them."

"My aide had left the boot opened, and he locked it once Mullin was deposited in it. Then Whigham-cum-Ink stayed behind as the new butler to oversee the rest of the party. He made sure some guests saw him injecting stuff into himself and being a bit high. "Athrun told them. "Then when it was time, he took out the butler's body into the pantry, left the Rochester Estate, and reported back to the Seventh Eye immediately. "

Tom nodded, confirming this.

"I'm surprised though," Leopold admitted. "I can't believe that Mullin didn't suspect anything and went to that room so early."

"Mullin left the halls and went to his room early because Tequila had lured him there." Athrun told him. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have gone so early, and we wouldn't have gotten him into the car boot so quickly."

A dark look crossed Sheba's beautiful face. "Damn paedophile."

"Nobody would suspect a fifteen year old." Athrun said quietly. "Especially with that face of his. When Dolce Mignonettie left Rochester's manor, nobody thought that the child had anything to do with the butler's death."

Sheba sighed, twirling a strand of her brown hair, her eyes growing into slits. "I need to have assistants like yours and Lent', or should I say, Lady Dolce, is an asset. Even my primary aides are so careless that it's a wonder I haven't been found and blown up already. The secondary ones are even worse."

Athrun said nothing. He did not like talking about the welfare of their aides with her. He could not look at her in the eye and speak to her about keeping those under them safe. Not after Sanders' death.

Barnett and Tom did not take notice of those doing their bidding, and Lent was careful not to care too much about his assistants. Leopold trusted his aides, but he was indifferent about them outside work.

Of all the Eyes, Churchill was the most apathetic. That man had knowingly sent an eighteen year old boy to be a suicide bomber three years ago. That time, Sheba had actually pleaded with him to consider alternatives, going as far as to offer herself in return for Churchill's aide's safety. But the boy had gone anyway, and Sheba and Churchill had never agreed on anything after that.

Of all people, Athrun knew that Sheba cared for those who did their bidding. She hated seeing the youngest of her aides become a cold-blooded assassin, but she was powerless to prevent this. It was the duty of aides to sacrifice themselves if necessary, and it was the duty of the Eyes to sacrifice others for their overarching mission.

For this, Sheba did not blame Athrun for Sanders' death. And for this, Athrun blamed himself even more.

He shrugged now, playing along with her. "You have incompetent aides? That's your misfortune, not mine."

She grimaced. "I know."

There was a common understanding between them. But the meeting was hardly over.

"What I want to know," Tom exclaimed violently and suddenly, "Is why Estragon brought the Orb Princess with him! He actually took her out of the manor, as his escort! If that's not madness, what the hell is?" He looked accusingly at Athrun.

Athrun had expected this inquiry. It was impossible to escape the mention of this issue here, before all The Eyes.

He forced his tone to be mild. "She was getting difficult to control, trapped and alone in that room of hers. I thought it would do me some good to distract her from her captivity. Nobody noticed who she was."

"Oh." Tom said sarcastically, "I suppose you mean that nobody noticed the Orb Princess in a whole congregation of famous people?"

Athrun said nothing.

"Let's see now. There was an assassinated royal couple from Poland walking around last night, a missing Chinese head official who appeared for the party, the head of the Interpol and his six children, a whole corporation of prize-winning, death-threat receiving nuclear-power scientists from America…Ooh, even the host's a corrupt politician who controls thousands of drug companies and had to scram out of Jamaica when that coup started! Oh, and even Patrick Zala's son was there! What's a little Orb Princess in a who's who party? I mean, who's going to even notice someone as low-profile as the Orb Princess when everyone there's a big shot! Oh wait, we're forgetting something. She's one of the bigger shots!"

Tom's voice was sarcastic, and his face a canvas for a strange, twisted expression.

"They didn't recognise her.' Athrun said firmly. "They've been in this place for a minimum of seven years, without information from the world outside The Isle. None of them know that the Orb Princess is currently missing, let alone amidst them. She looked quite different. Her hair has grown quite long, and it was curled. Besides, the princess knows nothing."

He was making a case out of nothing. The fact was that he had brought her out of the Manor and broken rules he should have observed.

But suddenly, Sheba was speaking.

"Alright." She said suddenly. "I can accept that."

Barnett nodded eagerly too, as did Lent and Churchill, albeit more reluctantly.

"Funny." Leopold said slowly. "Wouldn't it be strange if you told the Orb Princess that you had to leave early? Wouldn't someone suspect you of having some kind of plans? Wouldn't she feel that it was strange for both of you to leave suddenly?"

"Not at all." Athrun said emotionlessly. "There wasn't any reason to suspect that there was something happening while the party went on. And she didn't protest when I told her that we were leaving."

He recalled the way she had felt, struggling, and then welcoming him, pressed against the white marble, golden and pristine as he claimed her with his arms and mouth.

He had known what he had to do that night- sacrifice her trust for his mission. In so many respects, she _was _Lyra Delphius. Love was not an issue to be discussed- there was only duty.

She had been dazed, lips pink and kissed raw, willing to follow him, willing to do what he said and return to the manor. She had not known that Mullin's unconscious body had been locked into the boot, an oxygen mask plastered over his face, all while Athrun announced their departure. She had not known that as they sat in the car, Epstein driving, the unconscious Mullin had been transported away from Rochester's manor.

She had been blindfolded, after all.

Churchill, who had lighted his next cigar, nodded. "Well, seeing that you introduced her as Lyra Delphius, I don't think they recognised her entirely, or at all. And I think most of them were boozed out anyway."

Leopold snorted. "Do you actually bank on things like these for them to miss Cagalli Yula Atha?"

Churchill opened his mouth to justify his argument, but Lent moved in, always the pacifier.

Swallowing his coffee, Lent turned to her. "Listen, everyone. You've seen Lyra Delphius before, haven't you, Sheba?"

Athrun looked at Sheba, who was looking a bit tense.

"I spent some time spying on her, if that's what you mean." She answered curtly.

"Then you know the resemblance." Lent said reasonably. "Trust Rune on this, Leopold. He knows what he's doing. Since when has he gone wrong? He's never led us in the wrong direction since he took over from Sanders."

Leopold's lips tightened.

Lent continued confidently. "You're an expert at changing faces and appearances yourself, Sheba. Leopold and Tom don't believe that nobody recognised her as Cagalli Yula Atha. But Tom here tells me that the Orb Princess wore a gold dress and a diamond necklace with matching earrings. Her hair was long, in curls. Now tell me what Lyra Delphius has always been seen in at these events."

"That same outfit. Nothing more, nothing less." Sheba confirmed. "And I suppose the Fifth Eye was meticulous enough to use the exact same outfit, even the same jewellery and diamond necklace. The one with the pear-shaped diamonds."

Athrun did not answer, but she had already derived her answer from his silence.

"You know better than anyone here." Lent said firmly to Leopold and Tom. "The recollection of a face is really just an accumulation of impressions made by the articles a person wears."

Tom looked upset and Leopold looked impassive, but they knew Lent was correct.

"The same outfit, if worn exactly the same way, evokes the same memories and impressions even if the wearer is different. Add the advantage of both women being blonde and roughly the same height. With evening make-up, they would have been extremely similar. Add the advantage that the guests were boozed out or high. Add the advantage of Lyra Delphius not having made an appearance for what- three years? Add the contrast now, of what the Orb Princess usually looks like officially. A uniform, hair short, much less makeup, no jewellery."

It was clear that Athrun's wager had become a winning one.

"Okay, okay." Leopold said grumbling. "I accept. No harm caused by Estragon bringing the Orb Princess out for a night then. Thanks to you and Sheba covering for Estragon."

Sheba stood up very abruptly and went to refill her cup.

Smiling wanly, Athrun watched as Lent waved away his gratefulness.

"Rune's never led us down the wrong path. Not since he wanted to leave The Isle anyway," Barnett chimed in, "Gave me a right shock at that time. But you didn't leave, did you?"

Athrun paused, looking at the honest pair of eyes and Barnett Romia's youthful, attractive face. She didn't mean the hurt he'd felt from her statements.

"I didn't." Athrun answered honestly. "Not five years ago, and not now. Never."

"But we know why you stayed." Lent said gently. "You care about others so much that you ignore the sacrifices we have made and must continue to make."

Athrun looked at Sheba. She was drinking very quietly, and she said nothing.

Lent sensed Sheba's unease, and hastily cleared his throat. "I must mention this now. The new shipment has reached my manor. There's a baby girl- an orphan. The woman who's been looking after her is reluctant to continue. I've spoken to Plant about this, and they propose that she be brought up as an aide- a secondary one first, and if she shows promise, a primary one."

Athrun kept silent, and so did the others, but theirs was an indifferent silence.

"What's the issue?" Leopold said lazily. "If the superiors want that, then that's fine. We might as well have another female. There's only June Summon, Rune's twin assasins, and Lucretzia. None of them really appeal to men. We might as well have another girl to help us."

Tom snickered. "The last time we sent Lucretzia to seduce that fellow- oh what's his name?"

"Mithall." Athrun said quietly. "We acquired his steel empire just recently."

"Oh, yeah, that one."

His tongue had been cut out and his manhood stuffed in his mouth in replacement. Lucretzia did not take kindly to men laying their hands on her.

"The best we've got so far," Leopold chuckled. "Is Lent's third aide, Tequila. He seems happy to play the role of a girl though."

"It's settled then," Churchill boomed. "Lent-,"

"No, no," Lent said quickly. "I don't want my aides to be dividing their attention in bringing up that child. I was thinking of Rune. After all, he's got two young girls and that boy, what's his name, Epstein, right? They might provide a more conducive environment for that child."

Athrun shook his head. "I don't want her to be exposed to so much danger. She's too young. It would be better if she could learn the ways of a lady under Sheba."

Sheba's eyes softened.

"Rich." Churchill said loudly. "If she's brought up as an aide, do you think she'll avoid danger? Do you think any of them can unlearn what they have once they The Isle? Of all people, you should know, Estragon. You learnt how to kill from the best in Zaft, and have you unlearnt it? Can you unlearn it?"

Athrun fell silent, although his eyes were filled with hatred and anger he could not conceal. The other Eyes were muttering.

Tom's lips were tightened. "Don't be a bitch, Churchill."

"You're allocating resources inefficiently by passing her to Sheba." Churchill continued brazenly. "Sheba'll teach her painting and singing and that sort of things that the girl _isn't_ brought here to do. And Sheba already has enough aides, there's that boy to carry out her orders, what's his name…"

"Hideki." Barnett said cheerfully and without guile. "Yes, he's a good worker. Wiped out that bunch of clowns single-handedly with a chainsaw. You taught him well, didn't you, Sheba?"

Her words had the opposite effect she had intended on the older woman. Sheba got up abruptly and left the room, her crisp, well-pressed suit framing her height and a contrast against her hair.

They watched in silence.

Barnett looked stricken, realising what she'd implied, and she stood up and ran out after Sheba. Sighing, Lent stood up and moved after them, as did Leopold, who had as usual, said very little. Churchill stubbed out his ash-grey cigarette, reached for another, lighted it calmly, then got up and moved out.

Tom looked at him sharply as they filed out of Churchill's board room.

The Ninth Eye had very Spartan tastes, and the only thing suggesting luxury was the box Churchill kept his cigars in. And even then, the box looked very simple.

Athrun turned to go too, feeling exceptionally tired.

"Hold it," Tom demanded. "I want to speak to you alone."

He blocked the doorway, a head shorter than Athrun but his uncovered eye an electric blue slit in his sharp-featured face. "What's going on with you and the Orb Princess?'

Athrun looked at him cynically.

"You got your way when you insisted on using the Orb princess as your dinner date. You offered me the same reasons Lent just offered all of us- that nobody would recognise her. Okay, convincing enough if you justify it that way."

"Tom," Athrun said warningly.

"No. Let me finish. Why couldn't you stick to the plans after that?" Tom argued. "You were supposed to create a reason for you both to leave early, a reason the other guests would remember."

Athrun nodded. "I know."

"Barnett gave you a special drug to make Atha feel dizzy at Rochester's place," Tom said directly. "She wouldn't even get ill if you gave her the antidote upon arrival back at the Fifth manor. We agreed that you'd slip it into her drink, use that as an excuse to leave, and get out of there fast."

Athrun said nothing.

"But you chose to pretend she had a flu so both of you could leave. And you did it by snogging her senseless. Are you going to say that it was more efficient? Or less suspicious? What? Let's see you try to wriggle your way out of this."

Athrun whipped away the cigar Tom was holding in his hand and stubbed it in Churchill's ashtray. He eyed Tom.

Tom glared at him with his one good eye. "What?"

"Churchill's fags are medicated. Yours are for leisure. Find something else to do instead of experimenting with your lungs."

A look of irritation crossed Tom's face, although he did not object to Athrun's act of taking away the cigar he had snuck from Churchill's stash.

"I saw you," Tom said tightly, "You told her that you had always loved her. What did you mean? Did you know her before she was brought to The Isle?"

"You planted a second camera there, didn't you?" Athrun said dryly. "And you didn't tell me that you had a second camera around. I should have guessed."

"You had the balls to take down the camera I planted under that white-flowering tree." Tom sputtered. "With the leftover wine you poured on the roots. If you knew where I planted the second camera, you'd have pissed on it, wouldn't you?"

Athrun's lips quirked.

Tom looked furious, his ears slightly red, "You had a perfectly fine excuse to get the hell out of Rochester's mansion once we'd settled Mullin. But you made this elaborate pretence, saying she had a flu when all you'd done in reality was make out with her! What the hell is with that about?"

"Nothing," Athrun said calmly. "It made a more memorable exit. Plenty of guests felt dizzy from the booze. It would be better to leave for a different reason."

Tom slapped his file down, transferring his weight to the hand resting on the table top. His good eye glared at Athrun.

"No," Tom said cunningly. "You're beginning to fall for her, aren't you? Imagine this- the invincible Athrun Zala falling for his captive! The Orb Princess, no less! That's why you brought her to the greenhouse! You wanted to get cosy with her!"

Athrun studied Tom, oblivious to his accusations. A remarkable boy, this one. He would go far if he didn't get himself killed first.

"You didn't even have to drug her wine- Tequila did it for you!" Tom raged on. "But you swapped goblets without her noticing, and threw the drugged wine you were supposed to feed her right near the trees! On my bloody camera! What are you up to, Zala?"

"Tom," Athrun said tonelessly, "Address me by the name I was assigned."

"You are Athrun Zala still!" Tom roared, losing his temper completely. "All of us have names that we try to forget, but we will never! You're hiding your past from me, from all of us. I'm your friend, aren't I? Don't I deserve to know?"

His young face crumbled. Touched, Athrun reached out to him.

"I follow the orders." Athrun reminded him. "I follow them well enough. I have The Isle's interests at heart. My past and yours doesn't matter."

Tom faltered, although a stubborn look was beginning to enter his face. "You've never been the same since five years ago. After Sanders died, you've never been the same- you and Sheba, and Lent! When the council presented you with those twin girls to train as assassins, you even refused to! You even threatened to abandon The Isle! I remember that day- Barnett was so worried that you would leave us, she even cried! I've never seen her cry before."

Athrun remained silent, staring at Tom.

"Even the General had to step in to ask you to stay. And then you were the first to know about the terrorists' plans he'd obtained. And that's just it! You've been obsessed about the terrorists' plans concerning the Orb Princess ever since then! Everything about this is strange!"

"What is?" Athrun said mildly.

"Three years ago, you insisted that you be the one, rather than Lent, to be the next spy within the Danish terrorists. For all these years, you've been working towards that single night when you brought Cagalli Yula Atha back, haven't you?"

He waited until Tom finished the outburst, and then spoke.

"She's the key to starting another great war." Athrun said coldly.

"Not just that, I think." Tom said insistantly. "I may not know you very well. I don't know who she is to you. But you're my friend and I know that there's something you've been keeping from all of us. Nobody seems to know the exact truth, except Sheba and Lent. And they won't say."

Tom took a deep breath. "But I trust my instincts. There's something about the Orb Princess. You could have brought any other woman to Rochester's place, but you chose to take the Orb Princess out of the fifth manor! Tell me what you know, Athrun! I'm your friend, aren't I? I want to help!"

Athrun looked away, angry at Tom's interference, but simultaneously touched.

"I'm only four years younger than you! I'm not a child you can dismiss." Tom argued. "I can smell a rat a thousand miles away. Heck, I can see a rat a million miles away-,"

Athrun stared at his patch.

"-and I know you're growing too close to the Orb Princess. I don't know what will happen, but we cannot screw this up."

Athrun smiled wanly and began to move to the door. "Your fears are unfounded Tom. The Orb Princess is merely a means to the end. Yesterday's mission was a success, thanks to you and your aide, Barnett and Tequila Clarriker. And just a word of advice-,"

"What?" Tom said looking tense. His fists were balled in earnest.

Such a child, that one. Filled with the energy of youth and the rashness of his abilities and intelligence. He wore 'alternative clothes', as Lent liked to say, jeans artfully ripped, his shirt a tad sloppy and dark hair somehow quite neat and boyish, a bit longish with a duck's tail at the nape. His fringe was long- it fell into his eyes.

Next to Athrun, he looked like a rockstar-cum-teenage-delinquent arguing with his suit-wearing manager. The description might have been quite accurate, in fact.

Tom had a piece of shrapnel embedded in his eye, after being on the wrong end of a minefield. The Zaft surgeons had certainly not wasted the opportunity. They had implanted a camera and laser scanner where the eye should have been, and Tom had risen to the top of the ranks as a sniper. Of course, he had been an elite soldier in the first place, but the implant sealed his fate.

Athrun knew he still had nightmares about the operation and the pain of the bomb erupting in his face, but Tom was young, reckless, and too proud to admit that he was young and vulnerable. He was also deeply in love with Barnett Romia, and somewhat jealous of Athrun's ability to attract girls, despite Tom's uncanny talent in this field too.

As Tom had complained, it seemed that the only girl he wanted wasn't attracted to him. But Athrun knew what Barnett was doing- it was called playing hard to get.

Athrun looked smilingly at Tom. "Try flowers and a suit. She'd probably go for those."

Tom looked confused, and then his one good eye brightened as Athrun moved out quietly and shut the door.

* * *

When Cagalli awoke, she was sober enough to feel the pain. Her head was pounding so much; it felt like she had smashed it into something.

Listlessly, she moved to get dressed, sensing that it was very late now. She opened the wardrobe, looking at all that glinted within it. The dresses within the wooden trove were a confusion of colours, and it reminded her of the Rochester Estate and the guests.

But she was sober and she was capable of thinking about all that she had tried to ignore the night before.

The facts that she'd put out of her mind by getting drunk were returning to her, and those stung badly in her soberness- he had had other lovers all these seven years.

He had brought them to events like the one last night. Her presence had been as inconsequential as those. Perhaps, her presence had been worth even less than the lovers he'd had all this time.

But what did she expect?

He had taken another woman to a party, four years ago. There had been a woman who must have looked similar to her, in a similar dress, in a similar way. That was the only logical explanation for what the guests at Rochester's party had said.

She rubbed a hand against her temple, willing her stinging eyes to regain their vision. The guests' voices, their words and their laughs rang in her ears. And the recollection of his silence made her bite her lips in anguish. That was the reaction she ought to have shown last night- the reaction she had felt but had been unable to express.

All night long, had Athrun expected her to be oblivious to something like this? Was she expected to not notice something so obvious?

She wasn't foolish enough to think that the guests were imagining things- 'We saw you four years ago'.

She hadn't dared to ask, afraid that it would confirm her suspicions.

Athrun had said nothing when the guests had spoken of seeing her four years ago. He had kept his silence, and it had seemed to her a challenge. Seated next to her, he had challenged her to act out his pretence, to act as if she was incapable of guessing the truth, to pretend as if she didn't care about anything that he'd done.

It had been a challenge she couldn't afford to ignore.

Pretending that she didn't care and that she didn't care to _know_ what he did allowed her some dignity. For Cagalli, it was a form of revenge, no matter how insignificant it would seem to him. If she could go along with his pretence, she would show him, at that dinner table, in that massive estate, that he could have as many women as he wanted, that he could do what he wanted, that he could go to hell for all she cared.

So she'd accepted the challenge. She'd gone along with the pretence, she'd danced with him, she'd been civil to him to hide the pain in her. But Cagalli had only been able to do this by denying her reasoning faculties with alcohol.

Cagalli wasn't foolish enough to assume that he would remain alone even after he'd left Orb. She wasn't hypocritical enough to refuse him, and then expect him to pine as she had for seven years, even up till today.

She knew how women found him attractive. And she wasn't naïve enough to think that he would remain a celibate or recluse when he could have anyone he wanted. He had every right to love others. She had no right to feel hurt that he had this right.

Last night, she had known that he had brought a woman who must have looked a little like her at least, to a similar soiree. That had hurt her although she wasn't sure why- there was no point denying it. Cagalli wasn't even sure why she felt hurt that he had _happened_ to bring someone who had _happened_ to look like her.

Perhaps, the hurt came from how carelessly he'd picked his consorts, how one of them even looked like her. Obviously, he didn't even think of her as a unique individual or someone with an identity- he'd had lovers who fitted into his range of preferences, and she had _happened_ to, a long time ago. In that sense, she was as faceless, as nameless as every woman he had been with. The guests had confirmed it for her.

They had looked at her, praising with their mouths, appraising with their eyes. Surely, he had asked her to behave as a call girl would because his previous lovers had been like that. She wasn't Cagalli Yula Atha- she was one of the consorts he used as props in his appearances. That was why she looked like whoever he'd been with four years ago, because all the women he had been with were merely props.

She brushed her hand over her mouth, feeling nauseous as she recalled the leers the men shot her and the scepticism in the eyes of the women. He expected her to go along with him, as if she were really his prop, as if she couldn't guess what he'd done. It was a ridiculous pretence when the evidence was everywhere- but she had gone along with it for the sake of her pride.

But as she had taken goblet after goblet of the fragrant, numbing wine, she knew the exact reason for her willingness to go along with his pretence.

She been nameless, faceless, even, while he held her close to him as they moved through the crowds. She wasn't really Cagalli or even Lyra Delphius to him- she was just another of the women he used for these appearances.

She didn't want to be that way to him- but at the same time, she wanted to be at least somebody to him. She'd gone along with him, knowing exactly what they were leading themselves into, but not knowing what she was really doing. If spending the night with him would make him love her for just a few hours at least, then she would do it.

In that greenhouse, his face beautiful in the soft, turquoise lights, he had told her that he had always loved her. But he had been lying. She had known the exact second he had told her that he loved her. He didn't love her. If she couldn't even love herself, how could he?

But she had wanted to believe him, just for a while, just long enough for her to experience loving him and having him love in her return. When he'd refused her, it had only confirmed that everything was a lie.

In truth, she wanted to be whoever he had been with four years ago. She had wanted him to need her as he had needed that person. Athrun's face had been impassive and unreadable, and she despised him but loved him even more. She wanted to know him, to have something to keep of him, even if it was as minor and as fickle as the memories of a one-night fling.

But he had denied her even that.

She felt sober; sickened by how he'd led her on and by how deeply she loved him. She was sickened by how he'd denied her even the dignity of being someone to him, even someone as insignificant as a bed partner for one night.

Her heart throbbed like a burning weight in her chest, and the pain of her head seemed to be merging with it. She took another glance at the array of dresses, gave up looking for something to wear, and sat gingerly on her bed.

Only then, did she notice a chilled bottle of aspirin sitting by her bedside. With some gratefulness, she took it, trying to nurse the headache and the hangover she had somehow sustained. When she felt slightly less nauseous, she took a small step forward.

The maids must have come in while she had been asleep, Cagalli reasoned, but like mice, quiet and efficient. The splendid golden dress she had worn the night before had been hung up again, and the diamond earrings were in a box on her vanity table.

With some embarrassment, she noticed that she was still wearing the diamond necklace, and her heels while clad in her underwear.

Hastily, Cagalli kicked them off and moved quickly to draw a bath. She wanted to forget everything that had happened last night.

When she re-emerged, her skin was pink from her scrubbing, and her eyes were swollen. But she had calmed down a great deal already, and she felt that she was ready to confront everything. Slowly, she opened the wardrobe with one hand, the other still holding the towel around her.

She tried to search for a shirt, but found only dresses that reminded her of the previous night. Angrily, she pushed them aside and found a simple shift she took quickly and wrapped herself in. She stared at the curtain of dresses and felt something twisting in her.

Within minutes, the dresses were strewn on the bed.

The first she'd taken out had been the ostentatious gold one the maids had placed back inside. It was more yellow than gold if one ignored the finishing, she thought. It sparkled everywhere, and was a slim sheath that was lacquered with gold dust. Even her hair was a paler shade of gold compared to this dress.

She'd removed a peach dress she briefly recalled wearing. There was a familiarity to it that she despised. And of course, the turquoise one too.

Then she'd yanked a red one off the hanger, then a champagne coloured one. Then there was a black one that she fingered delicately before discarding with a wanton carelessness. And maroon, azure, amber, cream, rose, colour after colour was splashed on the white spreads.

Very soon, she was staring at the back of the closet. It was a large one, a very large one, in fact. The space smelt sweet in its masculinity, woody and comforting. There was nothing feminine about its smell, and she was glad for this. As a woman, she had no dignity left. But at least, she was learning the lesson once and for all. She had never been worth much as a woman to anything or anyone.

She stared at it, looking at the wood's grain, stroking it hesitantly. She cast a baleful glance at the dresses behind her, lying on the bed.

She thought about the pain in his face as he had pushed her away last night. It confused her. Why did he feel pain? It wasn't fair- why could he feel pain, and why could she sense his pain, when he was causing her hers?

Then Cagalli was groping for something in the darkness of the closet, and she sobbed for something, for someone. She wondered what this feeling was, this strange gnawing in her. It was somehow familiar, and she had the vague recollection of a small, barely-touched dinner on a table, laid for one in a beautiful, large, empty house.

Kira was always finding opportunities to invite himself and Lacus over, but she simply couldn't insist that they come to Orb to visit her on a weekly basis, like she was their favourite old aunt who deserved their attention. Now, the loneliness in her multiplied itself, and she thought of the emptiness of the night's passion and a gasping sob wrenched its way from her depths.

And she repeated Kira's name over and over again, then Lacus', her father, and then Aaron and Kisaka and Mana, just so she could remember them. She tried to recall all the faces she had seen before, but when she tried to remember Andrew Bartfield's, then Aisha's, and she failed to.

She knew what the name of the pain in her was. It was loneliness.

The darkness of the wardrobe was a lesson in itself. She didn't deserve to be loved. Neither could she give love to anyone.

She couldn't afford to gamble with her feelings and try to win his love when she could not return or deserve it. Not back in Orb, and certainly not here on The Isle.

He knew this all along. He had probably been mocking her all this time, even last night.

She hit the wall with her palm, anguished and her dry gulps of air threatening to usher in tears. But she was ashamed of crying, ashamed of weakness. She was even more ashamed of everything she had been so proud of, her ability to be stoic, mercenary, and manipulative.

An hour later, she woke up to find Cartesia staring at her. The light that stabbed into her eyes came from the parted doors of the wardrobe. Then she remembered that she had climbed and curled into the womb of the wood structure, sobbing without any tears. She had been hungry for something as she'd fallen asleep.

Her legs were hurt from being bent under her chin.

The girl looked frightened and relieved at the same time. Perhaps, Cagalli thought dully, they thought that she might have escaped when they had not seen her anywhere in her cage.

And yet, she had escaped, in a strange way of her own. She'd found another dimension of the cage. She hid her face with her hands, trying to fade back into the darkness of the closet. The smell of wood was everywhere. And perfume. The remnants of the scent that had been pressed into her wrists and neck. The remnants of last night's events, poisoning the steady, plain woodiness of the darkness. Suddenly, she wanted to throw up.

Her voice was cracked and hoarse. "Cartesia?"

'Milady?" The girl said softly, her eyes large and gleaming with sorrow at not understanding the cause of her mistress' own.

Cagalli paused, and the silence was cancerous. She did not know what to say. She could not find what was missing because she did not know what was. What did she want?

She was desperate for a sleep without the dreams of a black ocean and faces she did not quite recall, her father's, the dead Seirans, and Athrun Zala and all the nigtmares. But Cartesia couldn't give that to her.

She began to rub her eyes, trying to rub the confusion and lethargy from them.

"I'd like a drink." Cagalli said brokenly.

* * *

When Athrun returned to the Manor, he did not hesitate, turning sharply into the corridor that led to her room. That whole day, he had had thought of nothing except her. It was madness, to be so distracted as he was now. But some things could not be helped.

When entered the room, he spotted her, lying on the bed in slumber as the maids had placed her there. Cagalli looked almost faded, her colour poured onto the bedspread with the brilliant jewel colours of the dresses all around her, but none in her cheeks and lips. That she was wearing a crumpled white shift made her look like a rag doll.

But clutched in her hand was an empty glass flute. The maids had acceded to her request and tried to quench her thirst. But thankfully, they'd exercised judgement and given her only a little mead mixed with warm water.

The maids were quietly replacing the dresses in the wardrobe, one by one, and she was melting into the clinical shade of the bed sheets.

He thought, for a terrible second, that she wasn't breathing.

The maids were staring at him, standing by either side of the bed like guards. He did not look at them or give them any order, save the words that escaped from his gritted teeth. "Leave us."

They understood the turbulence of his mood and left quietly and quickly.

Cagalli opened her eyes in something like dull confusion, although her expression grew clearer and held hatred and mistrust. He strode over and wrenched the glass from her hand, setting it aside.

She began to sit up, studying his face as his studied hers. A dull flush crept under her cheeks, and she realised that the previous night was a haze of alcohol and desire. In fact, the only thing she remembered now, was that he had pushed her away. And that made her innards twist in anger and humiliation.

"What do you want?" She said sharply, regretting that the haze was leaving her.

"I want to talk." Athrun said evenly. "About last night. Before you get yourself pissed." There was a thinly-concealed anger in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "There's nothing to talk about. I was drunk. I behaved inappropriately. You can think that I'm easy or whatever you like."

Quite forgetting to keep his temper in check, his voice echoed rashly in the room. "This isn't about what I think of you! It's about us; it's about us needing to be honest with each other!"

Cagalli began to laugh, and it was sardonic and painful. "Honest? A bit rich eh?

"Look," Athrun said tensely. "I told you I can't tell you everything about The Isle and what I'm doing here on it as Rune Estragon, or why you're here for that matter. But why can't I be honest with how I feel about you? As Athrun Zala?"

Her eyes flashed. "Don't. Don't lie to me-,"

"I'm not lying." His voice was warped in its frustration. "And I don't want you to lie to yourself any longer."

"I'm won't." She said in a strange, wan voice. It struck him that she was of rather small stature when she was not standing in that proud, regal manner. "Not any more."

He took a step forward. "Then say you love me."

She looked at him, pale and her eyes large and dark in her white face. "I can't."

"You wanted me." He said tremblingly. "Didn't you?"

There was a warmth and fervour in his voice that made her recoil. She didn't like him as a cold, hostile person- it disconcerted her. But this was even worse- him treating her as if he cared after demonstrating that he didn't.

"What am I to you?" She said, with a kind of misery and resentment. "Why do you treat me like I matter to you when I don't at all? Am I some kind of toy you play mind games with then discard?"

She stared at him, and found a sadness in his face that began to show.

"It's precisely because you matter so much that I couldn't take you last night. I can't have you as a simple thing to become acquainted with and then discarded."

"Why? Am I not even worth what the women you strung along were worth?" She said brokenly.

"I'm not going to waste you on a one-night fling when you're not even sober enough to recognise who's with you. I've had enough of those." He said softly.

"But I wanted that!" She said heatedly. "Don't I deserve at least one night of your attention?"

He was staring at her, his face pale.

"What is it that you want?" She asked savagely. "If you don't even want a fling, then what can I offer you?"

He was still standing. But now, he bent, locking his arms perpendicular to the bed, trapping her within his circumference as she sank backwards, staring up at him. His voice was soft and molten, dark in its depth.

He stroked her cheek. "If it wasn't already clear, I'll say it again. I want everything."

She gaped at him, stunned. Why did he want anything from her when she was worth so little?

"I'm going to bring you away from The Isle." He said quietly. "As I promised to. For a while, at least."

She stared, not understanding.

He slipped next to her, not bothering to kick off his shoes, and turned her face towards him.

Within seconds, he was forcing her to lie into the bed, kneeling over her.

His voice was low and husky, filled with possessiveness. "You're going to give me what I want."

What did he want?

Everything.

She remembered the dim light and the way Athrun had kissed her. Had he wanted her? Or had it been another of his mind games?

And what about now? Did he want her? When he pushed her away again, would she break this time?

"Don't touch me," She said wildly, struggling as he held her by her shoulders, "Don't come near!"

In a flash, her hands found their way into his coat; her palms warm against his rib cage.

She pulled out a small pistol that he always carried and flipped him on his back.

She shoved the pistol against his temple, pushing him on his back. He stared at her, unafraid, like a child who did not understand what a weapon was.

"I'll kill you." She said in a low voice. "I can."

He looked at her with a strange, sad smile, tightening her hands around the pistol. "You'll be doing me that favour."

Cagalli stared at him.

She would be free of him, once and for all. If she could somehow manage it, she'd run from the manor and get out of this place, return to Orb. He would never come back to find her. She would never be manipulated by him again. She would be free.

She loved him so much- so much that it hurt and it hurt and she wanted him to die so she could forget him. There was a moment of déjà vu- the way she had once put a gun to his temples, thinking that he had killed Kira.

But now, she didn't know how to play his game. At that time, tears had spilled from his eyes. Now, he gazed at her without the familiar sorrow, and she felt a pang of guilt for his apparent inability to feel emotion.

She stared at him, not speaking.

"You've never killed anyone before." He whispered, "Have you?"

She looked away, and fearlessly, he brought her hand away. They were holding the gun together, one hand each, and the barrel pointed away from them.

He cradled her body to him.

He was murmuring that she was still innocent, still untainted and that he had no right touching her or wanting her the way other men could. His voice was low and trembling, telling her that he loved her. If she could love him back, she could give him redemption.

She heard only half of his murmuring voice, transfixed by his presence, hypnotised by her own thoughts.

So Cagalli did not respond. She could not tell him what she had done in the years while he had been living as Rune Estragon. If he found it in him to love her at this point, then the person he loved was someone else, a person he had met a long time ago. Even if she loved him as both Rune Estragon and Athrun Zala, he would never love her as the person she'd become.

He thought that she was untainted still. He wanted a relationship with her, not some fling. She knew that he didn't love her- he wanted to, because he thought that she could mend him in some way.

Athrun was stroking her cheek, and she looked at him mutely, knowing things about him that perhaps, he didn't even know.

He would fall out of love with her and she'd lose him after finding him again. There was no chance of her recovering from that. He would know, the instant they made love in complete soberness, that she couldn't mend him. He'd discover that no other man had ever touched her, and he'd guess correctly that no other man had even wanted to touch her. He would guess correctly that she had never been loved because someone like her couldn't be. He would leave, and she would never recover ever again.

But even now, she could not tell him that she wasn't worth very much. Not now, not when he wanted to be near her. She found that she couldn't push him away even though it was wiser to stay away before he could hurt her again. She didn't want him to realise that he had been right to push her away last night.

Her cheek lay above his heart, its powerful, steady rhythm unlike her own.

How could she tell him what she'd done after he'd vanished from Orb, how she'd personally removed every political opponent in her country?

If she did as he wanted and stayed by him, sober and conscious of her decision, she would not be able to ignore the past seven years- who he had been with, the secrets he had kept from her, all those things that she did not want to think about. She would not be able to ignore who she had been seven years ago.

And now, she finally knew why she had been unable to accept the way he lived here to survive. She resisted the way he lived so carelessly, throwing himself into work that seemed to be everywhere, living out his days in a place that was so cut off from the rest of the world.

She was eager to escape The Isle and his presence, for she instinctively rejected the way he returned to the Manor and the small little world he had, his ruthlessness and how little he trusted others.

It reminded her of herself.

When Athrun had killed Decant Corriolis, she had called him a monster, and she had judged him as one. But what Athrun had not known were her thoughts and memories when the blood sprayed everywhere, on the floor, on her hands and her face.

Perhaps Athrun did not understand exactly why she had reacted so adversely and so extremely to Corriolis' death. Perhaps, he had been surprised to find that she was affected to the extent of losing her speech. But he hadn't known that the loss of her speech had occurred before, a year after he'd left Orb.

If he knew the truth, he would have been horrified- he'd have looked at her like she was a monster. For when she had judged him to be a monster, she was doing the same to herself. She had been tainted long ago; she'd taken a gun to a man's temple and fired once, then five more times, before collapsing to the sound of her own screams.

His voice provided the intended, murmuring comfort. But it only deepened her wounds. "-and you don't belong here. You're still pure and good. I won't let anyone harm you again-,"

His voice ceased as he claimed her mouth. She let him kiss her over and over again, not reciprocating. He stopped when he realised that she was in his arms but unwilling to respond to him. Then he spoke again, and his voice had been harsher than she had ever heard.

"Do you feel anything for me?" He said, his voice trembling for the first time.

Ironic, she thought, that when he showed any emotion, it was a hybrid of everything, pain, joy, anger, tranquillity. Each time he did not bother with his mask, he could not control what he showed.

She nodded, because it was useless lying. And very tenderly, in unmistakable proof of humaneness and emotion, he kissed her forehead.

"That's good enough for me." He said quietly.

Deftly, he pried her fingers from the gun their two hands were still on, tossing it away. But she hardly noticed this.

"This place will drive us both mad," He muttered. "I need to bring you away. Somewhere else."

It was a deal much like the first one she'd made with him, that he'd bring her away if she agreed to be his consort last night. But now, it was another kind of promise.

She slipped her cool, bare arms around him, leaning her head against his chest.

She was hungry, aching for him to hold her like she was his child, hungry for something to fill the emptiness in her.

If he knew what she had done to become the woman the world praised, the face magazines put under the caption, "Most powerful people of the Cosmic Era", "Most capable women of the century", "Most successful people of today's times", he would despise her more than she despised herself.

She couldn't risk that, even though she couldn't find the will to push him away either.

He did not hear her release a small sob as he kissed her again.

* * *

4 months 2 days

A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for the reviews and some really amusing conspiracy theories about The Isle! (Some even came close!)

Sorry for the long wait, but I had to do a bit of chapter reshuffling.

Yep, the OCs are confusing because there are many of them. Some readers liked the development of certain OCs, and wondered why so many unfamiliar names were mentioned without any particular use of them. Some wondered how to keep track of them. My response would be, "Don't."

If every OC was tracked by the readers, that would be insane. This is an entire Isle or should I say, entire Isles, crowded with people who have traded in their past lives and names.

To clarify (and sadly, give away some bits of the story that were supposed to come 2 chapters from now), OCs which are mentioned quite a bit are those which matter.

Other OCs which seem to appear only in name are random people. I did consider not giving these random people names, but the later chapters would get tough without some reference to the other Isle-dwellers. To help the people who've been PMing me and trying to get some clues on what Athrun's up to and who the people on The Isle are, (good tries, some of you!), here is a list of the OCs who DO matter. Hopefully, this'll help you to guess what the later chapters will reveal, since I know quite a few readers enjoy thinking of various outcomes of the plot.

**OCs who matter**

1. Epstein Cleamont and the maids

2. Lyra Delphius

3. Kitani Harumi

4. The Eyes (more about them in the next 4 chapters, if I remember correctly. They're related to Athrun in quite a few ways, and that's the reason why I had to spend time on Athrun's formative years. Their interactions with him will affect his relationship with Cagalli eventually.)

5. Greyfriars

6. Aaron Biliensky

If any other unfamiliar name is mentioned, those are random people. As many reviewers asked, _'Why are there so many random people in your story?_'

My answer (as I've replied to a very small number of reviewers): _Because that's what The Isle (literally) is made up of._ These are random people who don't matter to Athrun (or Cagalli for that matter). These are people that they (and the readers) meet very briefly, understand very little of, and forget quickly. Ultimately, there are only two familiar people on The Isle who meet as strangers and end up knowing each other again- Athrun and Cagalli.

I'm also going to have to apologise if it looks convolluted. Things will get clearer for Cagalli (and the readers- since they mostly see things through her point of view). Every bit of the unknown and confusion that she (and readers) experiences can only be untangled by her. And that's where Athrun comes into the picture. Sorry again if you give up on the story, it would make me really sad but there are certain things that have to be here now for the sake of the conclusion and premise.

Thanks, you guys! :)

PP


	12. Chapter 11

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

Aaron Biliensky sat or slumped, a huddled, crumpled figure in his superior's living room.

Going home to relax after an important, very urgent meeting had not seemed like the right thing to do, not when Cagalli's whereabouts weren't even known. He lived in a swanky little apartment, beautifully decorated and very uptown, a place for him to forget all about work. But he couldn't bear to go back just yet.

So he had come here to try and find clues, deluding himself into thinking that by being here, he would be doing them all a favour.

He gazed around dejectedly, thinking of how pensive his niece, Debbie, had looked while asking about Cagalli.

Cagalli was fond of children, Aaron had realised this a long time ago. She was particularly fond of little Debbie Arabella Biliensky, and Debbie was equally taken with her uncle's boss.

The room was a rather lovely one, with ornaments Aaron and Debbie had cajoled Cagalli into putting around. And the Security Council had finished their investigation, taking the tape away from the roped-off areas. The red and white tape had been removed recently, and it made Aaron feel slightly less uneasy, since he wasn't constantly reminded of murder scenes.

From afar, the tape seemed pretty, like candy-cane strips forming a perimeter around the grand old Atha Estate and manor. But it had been hung around the estate for nearly two months, warning all that the area was not for anyone to visit.

The Orb Security Council had found nothing suspicious that could be linked to Cagalli's disappearance. Her phone lines had been checked, and old letters rifled through, but there was nothing at all.

Aaron was allowed in now, since he was her personal aide. Even then, it had been hell trying to get in here. Bringing a seven year old child with him was definitely out of the question, never mind that Cagalli often insisted that they come together. The circumstances had changed drastically.

Wearily, he raised his head, massaging his nose bridge. If only he could help her somehow- just as she had helped him years ago-,

"I'm a wreck." He muttered. "And she knew it all along."

He looked at the comfortable clutter in the arrangement of her things, and it was telling of her ways, amidst all the grandeur and privilege that she had inherited. Because of this, he couldn't ignore how empty the house was, how it had been locked up for two months, since the morning she'd departed for Scandinavia. He missed Cagalli dreadfully.

The things were in slight disarray, a jacket flung carelessly on the sofa, some cushions displaced from the couches, and some files resting on the table. The investigators had not taken anything out of place, so it seemed that she had left only this morning.

A few pairs of shoes lay scattered at the side, and Aaron could imagine that Cagalli had sat there, rushing to choose and put on a pair before leaving for work in her car. The difference, Aaron thought dolefully, was that she had prepared a suitcase of documents and clothes for a three-day stay in Sweden, not expecting what the world was witnessing now.

There was even a note at the corner of the mantle, addressed to the house help who came weekly. Of course, the house hadn't been opened by anyone except the investigation team, and the house help had not been allowed in. Nobody was allowed in this house, now that it was under official investigation and out of bounds to almost everybody.

The note was scribbled hastily, Cagalli's script like a scrawl in her hurry. The instructions were that she had left the clothes that were to be sent for dry-cleaning in the main basket.

Clearly, Cagalli had expected a normal business trip, a visit out of formality. She must have expected to have arrived back in Orb soon after entering Scandinavia upon the Swedish Royal family's invitation.

But she had vanished- what other word could be used- the very day she had arrived.

"Shit, Cagalli." Aaron said heavily. "What a bloody mess you've left behind."

The Orb officials couldn't call it a kidnapping- it certainly didn't seem like one when no ransom was apparent. The embassy had waited day and night for a call from somebody, anybody, but none had came.

It wasn't an assassination either. Or at least, Orb could not openly accuse Scandinavia of planning an assassination. Granted, there had been a skirmish on the SS Rafael, the Sweden royal yacht.

But then, the Swedish royals and their guests had been hurt as well, twenty-eight minor casualties, four serious casualties, and one fatality. Moreover, the Swedish officials, on behalf of Scandinavia, claimed that it was a domestic affair that Orb had no business interfering in.

Of course, it didn't change the fact that Orb was now functioning, or attempting to, without their princess.

And Orb would not rest until they had found her, dead or alive. If she was alive, there would be an inquiry and investigation. If she was dead, well, there would be hell.

It was clear that Orb would react with great agitation if their beloved princess had been assassinated. The newspapers were not helping either.

Grimly, Aaron glanced at some that he'd picked up along the way.

The various newspapers on the table stared back at him, their headlines leaping at the viewer. All showed the same picture of Cagalli, very young; the youngest Orb had ever had- even her father had only assumed power at the age of twenty-five. She, however, had been leading Orb since she was nineteen. All the same, there was timelessness to her beauty and charisma.

Aaron stared at his friend and superior, wondering when he had ceased to see her as the Orb Princess and as a human. Had he even? Would Orb?

At this point in history, at this peak of patriotism, Aaron was sure that Orb loved Cagalli Yula Atha with even more fervour than the legendary Uzumi Nara Atha. Since the time that she had been reinstated during the Second War, she had been infallible. She ceased to be a human for Orb; she had become their pillar, a kind of goddess, dynamic and powerful.

Even now, the newspapers showed her lovely, smiling face and the bright, golden eyes, her hand waving to her people from where she was standing, in her signature sea-foam coloured gown. They called her the Amber Princess, and it seemed fitting- she seemed to be made of light and marble, not flesh and blood.

The media could find no other picture that would better elicit the response they hoped for. A wave of patriotism had risen the day she had vanished, and the image of the Orb Princess under the bold, accusing headlines evoked those very feelings. The media was a panderer to the public at the end of the day- if people felt patriotic, then they'd give something for Orb to be patriotic about.

No wonder that Orb was in a state of apprehension and constant fear for their leader. The congress was in a huge dilemma. Her people were demanding that the Orb military was sent into Sweden, if not, the whole of Scandinavia to find and get her back.

But the congress could not permit this. They were limbless without their leader as well, and the disunity amongst them was becoming quite apparent. Besides, they could not storm into Scandinavia and demand that she be produced from wherever someone had hid her. That would have been a breach of international territorial law, especially with Sweden's reluctance to let Orb enter Scandinavia.

The most recent statement from Scandinavia had angered Orb. Under no circumstances would Orb be permitted to send its troops into the region. This included the current situation, even when their leader had vanished while there on a diplomatic visit.

Just yesterday, Aaron had watched helplessly as the legislation voted to withdraw their ambassador. The Scandinavian ambassador and his family had been asked to leave Orb as well. Nobody would vote to keep and maintain diplomatic ties with Scandinavia, not when most of Orb was against it.

It seemed that war was on the horizon.

Some of Orb's most vital investors were pulling out, one by one, afraid that Orb would become economically and politically weakened by the lack of Cagalli Yula Atha's leadership. If Orb was going to fight a war with an Earth Alliance colony, then the footloose investors were not going to stand and be part of it. Jobs were being lost as companies rationalised, and people were lashing out at the Orb government.

Aaron was finding it difficult to keep calm under such pressure. On one hand, the ratings for the government were dropping like dead birds, and on the other hand, the legislation was breaking apart from within. As the permanent secretary, it was frightening to watch. As a friend, it was distressing to witness.

Already, Aaron was not hearing just mere suggestions that the Princess had arranged for her own abduction- he was hearing outright accusations from some council members, claims that were devastating to Cagalli's honour.

Some were leaping at the opportunity to dismiss Cagalli's disappearance as a selfish, irresponsible abandoning of her duties.

"She got cold feet. She was always looking to shirk her duties. She'd had enough of the job- she's twenty-five now, and she's tired of working for Orb. She didn't want to go through an arranged marriage, not even for Orb's sake. She ran away from the responsibility. She knew she would never live up to her father's legacy. She was always a bit questionable. Is she really his daughter, I mean, legitimately? She came out of nowhere- never saw her until she was fifteen. Then she disappeared for some time before coming back to see Lord Uzumi -bless his soul- die. Remember how she got herself reinstated during the Second War? The whole Seiran House was crushed by her so she could have that seat!"

Aaron fumed. They had no right to be speaking like that. If only they knew how hard she tried for all of them-

Many within the parliament council were becoming swayed by such talk, and they would soon think to vote for a replacement head, since Orb ultimately needed a leader. Aaron, however, would not hear of such a thing.

Ledonir Kisaka had returned, even before Aaron had managed to contact him and ask him to return. Unfortunately, the council had disapproved of Kisaka becoming a proxy leader, since he had been out of politics for quite some time. That was the official reason- the unofficial reason, Aaron realised, was because Kisaka would crush the chances of individual council members trying to assume control.

The minister of finance and the minister of international affairs were two such members. Without Cagalli to be around, they were throwing their weights about, trying to turn the other members against her so they would pick another leader amongst them. And irritatingly enough, they were in the key positions to use Orb's current sentiments to their advantage.

"Those bloody chameleons!" Aaron snarled to himself.

But if these chameleons could find enough support from the people, whether Cagalli returned or not would not matter. No wonder, the minister of finance and the minister of international affairs were subtly encouraging Orb to pick an aggressive stance- war if necessary- where Scandinavia was concerned. It made them popular with the angry people, and it made the council even more fragmented than before.

"Where are you, Cagalli?" Aaron said wearily. He looked at the empty living room. Certainly not in here. His eyes travelled to the table, and he found himself looking at the newspapers again.

'Vanished!' The official headline blared.

'Abducted!' A less politically-correct one accused.

'Murdered!' A popular tabloid suggested.

'A conspiracy!' Another tabloid agreed.

Personally, Aaron wasn't sure himself.

Some were claiming that she had run away. The political system in Orb tied in very closely with the hierarchy of royals, and she was at the top of the hierarchy and therefore a pawn of the system. An arranged marriage was necessary if she didn't marry a suitable person by the time she was twenty-six.

And she was twenty-five, and barely anyone had been seen together with her. Perhaps, she had fled, disillusioned by the oppressive system. It wasn't an uncommon system- many monarchies and semi-monarchies in the Earth Alliance regions had these systems. Whether Cagalli Yula Atha was willing to go through with it or not…

"But she wouldn't do that!" Aaron thought furiously. "Never in a million years!"

The ringing of his cell phone jolted him out of his thoughts, and he put it to his ear hastily. "My greetings to you, sir."

He was surprised to hear a gentle, almost benign voice coming from one of Zaft's Head Generals.

"I've just arrived in Orb."

"That's good to hear, sir," Aaron stood up and adjusted his clothes frantically. "I'll go and fetch you now-,"

"No need," the general of Zaft defense technology said quietly. "I'm already on my way to Cagalli's house. I met Britannia's premier along the way."

"Oh." Aaron could not think of anything else to say. "Sir, if James Marlin is there, then-,"

"Don't worry. He's coming with me. He won't have it any other way. Mr. Biliensky-,"

"Yes?" Aaron was finding it hard to speak. Once both men arrived, his plans, based on Kisaka's advice, could then be put into action. It was time for something to be done, something that could save them all before another war erupted.

The voice on the other end of the line was a very calm, quiet one, but Aaron could hear the pain in it. It was a direct reflection of his own.

"Thank you for helping my sister."

* * *

_When Aaron Biliensky had come to her office six years ago, Cagalli realised that she was in for a bumpy ride._

_It wasn't so much his razor wit or sardonic tongue, the inconsistencies and idiosyncrasies a man as intelligent as him was prone to. It was more of his bullheadedness and his habit of knocking nails directly and mercilessly on the heads._

_He looked like a mild, well-tempered, intelligent man with a penchant for smart dressing- until he opened his mouth._

_Within a week of work, he had drawn up a report of every mistake she'd made in work, a list of things she had to look out for, and irritating things like that. The list had even included her choice of work attire- he disagreed with the colour of one shirt she had worn._

_He had written advice she had not asked for where a shirt was concerned, all in his neat, cursive writing on a post-it, "If you happen to look like Emissary Clyne, pastels work. But you do not. In short, burn it."_

_She was used to being compared to Lacus in a thousand ways, from their styles of diplomacy, to their ways with words, their styles of leadership, everything that had made Cagalli feel mostly on par. Not for nothing, were they commonly known as the Princesses of Peace._

_To have Aaron Biliensky ignore all her merits and compare her to Lacus in this manner- it certainly smarted._

_If anything, Aaron was an extreme opposite to the system in her office. She was used to a large amount of tact and respect in her office especially after the Second War- but this man seemed incapable of giving what she thought was her due._

_He was her personal aide as well as the Permanent Secretary of the Orb legislature, but he was like a personal minder, a more annoying version of Mana. Mana had been motherly- but Aaron was plain bitchy._

_He was always telling her what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. It drove her mad. He got on her nerves, appearing out of nowhere, always smartly dressed, hair neatly combed, pointing out that this and that didn't make sense, that this and that didn't work. _

_Many, including Cagalli, had made the mistake of retorting something along the lines of, "If you're so good at spotting mistakes, then why don't you do the whole damn thing yourself?"_

_It was self-defeating .For Aaron would put his hand to the task, and there was not a single thing that could be said about his abilities or his high standards of work. It drove her crazy, it really did._

_Aaron often disposed advice she was rational enough to understand, but irrational enough to get irritated over. So in a show of childish pettiness that surprised herself. At the ripe old age of twenty-one, she put earwigs into his office mug. She knew he was scared to death of those. _

_For the finishing touch, she put a couple of those under his files too, which she knew he would lift to smack the first earwig he saw._

_His screams had rung out at roughly ten in the morning, and those had not stopped until ten-twenty. Someone had rushed in to find him backed against a wall, hollering every curse in the book._

_And in her own office, she had laughed until she had cried. She never admitted to playing that nasty trick on him, but he was no fool. _

_They could never get along after that incident, he making snide comments about her performance, she finding ways to assign him the most difficult tasks possible. _

_But somehow, she found her work becoming even better with him around, and he was always able to accomplish everything she put in his way. A grudging sort of respect was built between them in the months after he had arrived. A few memorable events occurred and they began to fall in love with each other's company._

_By the time his first year as the permanent secretary was over, they were the fastest of friends. He wasn't like Lacus- he wasn't her sister-in-law, that sainted lady, a paragon of all virtues. Cagalli found no obligation to watch what she said with Aaron, no need to be responsible and well-behaved with someone who wasn't Lacus. _

_They spoke about everything- work, food, hates, loves, and even scandalous things. Despite his sterling reputation and effortless grasp of current affairs and politics, he was a gossipmonger with a thirst for the finer things in life. For her 'finishing education', he had an entire collection of chick-lit he dumped onto her. _

"_Bitch-fights, divide-and-conquering techniques, dealing with unfaithful bastards, handling huge spats; it's all the same as politics and running a government," He declared. "A girl's got to know what a girl's got to know"_

"_How's this one?" Cagalli said curiously, picking out a random one._

"_Not bad," Aaron said distractedly, unpacking a few more. "If I remember correctly."_

_She flipped to the centre and began reading aloud._

"_-she stared at him and said in a sultry voice, Come here and touch my-," Cagalli clapped a hand over her mouth, stopping herself from reading a random line and looked at Aaron, turning a funny shade. But he was already engrossed in another book._

"_Ooh- read this one, Cagalli, it tells you how to get a man so needy for you that he does whatever you say. I remember using it myself. Works like a charm, that one. Men love the colour red, when it's done properly anyway."_

_It wasn't that she didn't love Lacus- it was just different. Lacus was too far away, too removed from the struggles Cagalli went through. Lacus was someone she called twice a week, a guardian angle who spoke so gently that Cagalli wondered if Lacus had ever felt hatred before. Aaron was different- he was there, everyday, in every sense. _

_He told her sensational stories that she listened to in fascination. Those involved all sorts of things- scandal, wild partying and things she had never thought about previously. He was like an older sister, filling her in on the parts of teenager-hood that she had seemed to miss completely. _

_Sometimes, he dared her to hook up with a good-looking man, and she dared him to fling himself at a pretty woman. But despite their double-daring, they never attempted anything- she was much too inhibited, and he was gay and much too classy._

_They even read trashy novels together, laughing at the love scenes and the cheesy descriptions. She was rather ignorant about many of these things, although she never admitted it to Aaron. And she thought it was fortunate that he was around to provide her material that made her less ignorant. Aaron hardly noticed this- in fact, he didn't know that she only understood half of topics like love, relationships and sex._

_Those things felt so distant from the stark-white Parliament building, the office they gossiped in, the place they slaved away in._

_Because she didn't know any better, because he was the only one she dared to speak with about these things, and because she heard only the bad side of things, she felt uncomfortable with men once they were outside the office. Aaron was hardly a man, he was more than that- a girl's best friend. _

_They cemented their friendship with everything from drinking parties with their colleagues to going for mad shopping sprees. Aaron was a firm believer in retail therapy, unlike Cagalli, who preferred sleeping off the stress. His sense of fashion could be both so zany and so fresh he seemed wasted in politics. _

_So Cagalli relied on him to bargain with shopkeepers- he could somehow slash everything by half when he opened his mouth to point out flaws in a perfectly good shirt hanging off the rack._

_And Aaron often sailed over to her house, straightening her things airily as if he lived there instead of her. He would comment on this and that while knowing that she would never actually throw away the furniture that 'just doesn't work for this place'. _

_It was then that Cagalli realised that the house was a beautiful, barren sort of cage, one she had lived most of her life in. Every piece of furniture was where it had always been, the rooms furnished the way it had always been, and even the pictures still showed the same sceneries and the curtains the same colour schemes. But with Aaron, that was changing. Slowly, surely, he had added in new things, replaced certain things, and it seemed that her privacy was being encroached upon._

_He was always promising to bring over new ornaments, pretty curtains, that sort of thing the next time he came, and what surprised her was that he actually did. _

_Her living room was done in Rococo style after accumulating all his little touches, and the kitchen looked like something out of 'The Stepford Wives', thanks to his details. He had even replaced an old "Kiss the Cook" apron that Kisaka had left behind with a gorgeous gingham one._

"_I don't see why you can't cook and look fabulous at the same time," He declared, taking out his own frilly, but absolutely lovely apron._

_Aaron was not one who could abide by ugliness or mediocrity. "Shit, Cagalli, look at that clock on the mantel piece."_

"_What's wrong with it?" She had said warily. She was looking at her living room, admiring it, but wondering if anything in there had belonged originally to her. Aaron's specially-ordered tea set was there, a new glass table he'd gotten from a 'fantastic little thrift store', new curtains with lace patterns he'd picked out, chocolate and cinnamon scented candles his niece had brought over…_

"_It's so…so wrong! It's square and brown! Who needs a brown clock in the middle of this treasure-trove?" He waved his hands like he was conducting a philharmonic orchestra. "I'm going to get you a lovely grandfather clock you can put- let's see now- let me think- right here!"_

_She looked where he was gesturing and wrinkled her nose. "There's a table there, Aaron. I think it was a family heirloom my father inherited. The newspapers would have a field day about me throwing away a valuable piece of the Atha heritage."_

_She wasn't emotionally attached to the table- she was indifferent to it. But now that he was threatening to replace it with something else, she felt indignant and hesitant. She didn't want any change, even if it would be a beautiful one with Aaron's judgement involved- change was pain._

"_With a piece of history like that, it's better off being burnt!!' He declared disdainfully, un-crossing then re-crossing his long, elegant legs. His good-looking but somehow comical face showed something like disdain. _

_He had his way, eventually._

_They often cooked dinner together at her house, everything from fillet mignon, a dish he'd taught her from scratch, to soufflés which soared for him and sank for her. They often ate dinner this way, eating everything they'd cooked together- Aaron could not bear waste, despite his thinness. _

_He taught her how to put on make-up, and he instilled discipline at her vanity table. He had swept past the table one day, throwing expired eyeliner, foundation of the wrong shade, perfume that had become unfashionable, lipstick of 'blah tones', and other miscellaneous things into a floral plastic bag._

"_Hey!" Cagalli had protested. "Those don't belong to me!"_

"_Shit, Cagalli," He had said accusingly, "Those were at your table! And I'm glad you feel ashamed of them enough to deny being acquainted with these. Expired eyeliner indeed!"_

_Cagalli had blanched. "I mean- no, a former housekeeper kept giving them to me and I never used them, but you know, they were gifts, and well-,"_

"_Out they go," He had said firmly, tying the bag up in a knot. The things rattled indignantly in the bag, but he ignored the sound of everything clinking._

_She had taken a deep breath, and said weakly, "Well, I guess I don't need those anyway, so I'll just tell Mana that I finished using those and-,"_

"_That's right, honey." Aaron had said assertively. "You tell her that you don't need those. You need these."_

_He produced another bag and dumped everything onto her table._

_She gaped at the ten different shades of everything, and turned a colour of her own- white. "Aaron! You-,"_

"_I got you the best." Aaron had said proudly, "Everything that matches your skin tone is here. Aren't I clever?"_

_She had opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it, then opened it again, lost for words._

"_Oh don't stand there trying to thank me," He had said brightly. "Sit down!"_

_She could hardly protest._

_From then on, he insisted that she never step out of the house without wearing lipstick._

"_What's wrong with my lips?" Cagalli had said, getting thoroughly annoyed at his bossiness." Don't they look fine without lipstick?"_

_He had put his hands on his hips, glaring at her. "That's the bloody problem! You have perfect lips, and you know it, so you take it for granted! All you have to do is to dab on some red, and you look fabulous, but other women have to use bloody lip-liners! And you have the cheek to be so lazy!"_

_She had made a sputtering sound and turned back to the mirror, trying to see what looked perfect about a mouth she had had since forever. "Wha-? B-but, that's not the point!"_

"_Then what is?" Aaron had said fiercely, as if she'd mortally insulted him._

"_It's inconvenient- wearing this stuff."_

"_Oh please," He had said, rolling his eyes and his voice growing agitated. "You're lucky enough to be born with good looks that this stuff enhances. At least you don't have a face that this stuff must correct. Get it? This stuff enhances what you have; it doesn't change or correct anything in your case. There's nothing to correct."_

"_Really?" She had said, embarrassed and somewhat flattered. She looked at the mirror again, trying to see if her reflection was becoming her friend for once._

"_Believe me, honey." He said, leaning over her shoulder and looking directly into her reflection. "If you come in for work without at least a lip stick to make use of those fabulous lips, I will execute you personally."_

_Strangely enough, as he had declared, a dab of lipstick and nothing else created an unprecedented number of date-hopefuls. It was very strange to have so many people complimenting how lovely she looked when all she'd done was add a sliver of colour onto her mouth._

"_But it works," He had said proudly, when she had noted this. "Now, all you have to do is to tell them to sit and roll over."_

_He chased away many suitors, particularly those who wore clothes that looked terrible on them. He was like the fashion police- sniffing out the 'fakey-leather', criticizing the cut of this and the cut of that, and being unreasonable when Cagalli tried to defend the poor victims of his vicious tongue._

"_Maybe," She had suggested, "They aren't able to discern what looks good and what doesn't. Maybe they're just not like you, Aaron. You can't scream at them for wearing jeans."_

"_Cagalli," He had said in all seriousness, "I'm not screaming at those men for wearing jeans. I'm upset because they aren't even wearing fitted jeans, and they're waltzing in here asking you to marry them! How ridiculous it that? You can look casual; you can wear simple clothes, but for god's sake, get those tailored! Someone needs to introduce them to tailors who care about every damn stitch, cloth that works just right, and a cut that makes them look like they own the world. If you have to pay the world for the clothes, then that's just it."_

_She fought back a laugh. "All my ratty shorts are gone because of you. It's mad that I wear dresses in the house."_

"_Those aren't dresses with a capital 'D', you know, like, the formal gown-thingies. Those you have are real, proper clothes," He said firmly. "And what's wrong with those wrap dresses? Those are flattering, casual enough for house wear and down the street, and perfect for 'I-feel-fat' days. Besides, I made you get them in six different colours, and twelve versions, so you can't complain about not having variety with clothes you wear at home! What's wrong with those?"_

_She smiled helplessly. "Nothing." _

"_Exactly! Those are perfect for home wear, and perfect if someone happens to pop by your house. I swear- I dreamt that I wasn't in proper clothes and I had to answer the door- I woke up screaming."_

"_You're the only one who pops by my house, unless you count your seven-year old niece." She pointed out. "And a forty-one year old house helper and an ancient gardener, both of whom do not appear at the doorstep when I am around."_

"_You never know." He said stubbornly. "One of these days, your Prince Charming, maybe the postman, or a delivery person, or the newspaper boy, is going to turn up at your door step. He's going to be a total hunk, and then you'll see why those wrap dresses were a perfect investment."_

"_This is coming from the personal aide who told the German ambassador to piss off for wearing non-fitted jeans."_

"_And forty-three other incompetent buggers who fancy themselves as your potential husband." He added proudly. "Do you remember that rat-faced Swiss banker? I couldn't believe he came in here with all his gold teeth shining with a bunch of wilting roses in his hand!"_

_She rolled her eyes. "Why do you bother with them anyway?"_

"_Because I won't have anyone who's not worth your time prancing in here!" He said incredulously, as if she'd asked the stupidest thing he'd ever heard._

_And she was so touched, she didn't know what to say._

_He threatened the press when they tried to write nasty things, ("Shit Cagall, only I get to say nasty things about you!") he squashed the toes of some Chinese official who offered her dried seahorses- a delicacy- as a present, and- oh, she'd be lost without him._

_He mostly invited himself over, raiding her closet to pick out clothes he had insisted she buy, clothes she claimed she had no opportunity to wear. _

_He sometimes brought Debbie, over, an adorable child who loved dressing up as much as he did. The three of them had enjoyed many an evening together, be it playing cards, eating dinner, walking in the gardens, anything. He was the perfect girlfriend for her, something he was very proud of. _

_But sometimes, when she was in that house, all alone, it was her who picked up the phone to call him, hoping that he would visit. He lived an hour's drive away from her. _

_And without fail, he would come each time she called- exactly an hour after she'd called. So many things cemented the friendship and partnership they'd established for six years._

_Of course, the real cement to their friendship had been provided when she had killed someone for him._

* * *

She dreamt of Aaron Biliensky and the angle his arm had been twisted and broken at. She dreamt of her hands, wrapped around a pistol, her hands and face stained in blood, and she dropped the pistol.

She was screaming a silent cry even though Aaron had found his way to her and was wrapping his arms protectively around her.

She woke up, frightened and calling out for help, the way she had for a few weeks after that incident. She hadn't done this for some time- it horrified her that she was remembering what she should have left behind, a long time ago.

But the dream left Cagalli quickly- she had trained herself to ignore any signs that suggested that she was affected by anything. And she swung her legs out of the bed and tread on the floor.

The floor was bare of the rugs the previous room had. The ceiling had changed, the floor, the bed, the pillow. She tried to think of something, drew a blank, and gave up.

She took a few cautious steps, testing her legs. Everything hurt, as if she'd been battered.

Then a wave of fear coursed into her when she realised that she was recalling the pain of her former injuries. She had been battered then, hit with a chair until the chair had broken apart, slammed over her back.

She had healed well- but the memory persisted at times. Here, on The Isle, she was remembering everything she wanted to shut out.

Athrun was turning out to be exactly what she'd expected- a bad influence. When she was with him, everything she wanted to forget seemed to present itself again and again. Even an incident she had successfully put out of her mind for quite some time was haunting her again.

Bitterly, she rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind from any thoughts.

The door was unlocked, and she slipped out, flinching as a wind caught around her and blew. So they were on the sea now. Cagalli could recall the warmth of his body as she'd fallen asleep, but other than that, she remembered little else.

The waves were bobbing merrily, and she half-expected a dozen other boats to be coming near, like it was a sea-market.

But other than the shining blue and grey surface, dappled in light and the sounds of circling gulls, there was nothing in sight.

A few meters away, Athrun paused, his hand on the railing of the stairway.

This was déjà vu. About two months ago, when he'd stolen onto the SS Rafael, he'd watched her stand on the ship deck, just as she was doing now. The difference was the daylight that was flooding onto her. But just as she had been then, she was unaware that he was watching her.

He stared at her, feeling something move in him. Her emotions were intense and almost extreme; she hated and loved so deeply that she was always in danger of being like an over wound clock. Perhaps, she had already influenced him in this way- he loved her so deeply that he wasn't sure if it was love or hatred.

Cagalli's arms were akimbo, and she was exquisite, golden hair long now with months of going untrimmed. It was like a gleaming shawl, all over her shoulders and in the wind, like wings of molten fire.

She stretched out her arms, as if to hold something of sunlight, and he thought for one dazed moment, that she was made of light.

Disconcerted, but somehow overjoyed to feel the wind on her face, she pattered, barefoot, over to the yacht's side. She leaned over, tiptoeing to see into the murk depths of the water. Then she began to relax a little.

"I'd be careful, if I were you."

Cagalli turned to see Athrun moving up the cramped stairways that she had as well.

He smiled a small smile that made something tighten and tingle in her, and she realised that she was colouring rapidly. She'd admitted that she had feelings for him. If he was going to use it against her now, she had only herself to blame.

She disliked it when he flirted- she mistrusted men who flirted with her and she did not want to mistrust him. Moreover, she was helpless against him when he flirted, which made her feel resentful.

If it had been another man, she would have taught him a lesson. She would have led him on and turned against him quite suddenly, making him swear off her for good. She did not believe that any man actually wanted her- if they seemed to, they were after something else- Orb, her inheritance, her power, but certainly not her.

But he was another matter. He knew her ways and he knew what she felt for him.

It struck her that she was wearing his shirt, and with a blush, she realised that she must have been changed out of her slip.

"Keep that on." He said mildly, reading her thoughts. "We couldn't carry out to sea in a slip, and the maids were busy packing some of your things. I thought it was best if you borrowed a shirt first. The maids changed you out of your shift."

"You should have woken me so I could get changed." Cagalli said ruefully.

"I couldn't bear to."

He smiled, as if there was nothing particularly strange about anything in the world.

And Cagalli wondered if Athrun was an anomaly where the Zala Lineage was concerned. He did not have the eyes of his ancestors, those flinty chips of stone- he had his mother's eyes.

She stared at him, aware that he had the capacity for cruelty, just like those whose blood had supplied his. The question was whether he had the affinity for cruelty.

Then suddenly, he said in a very different, flat tone altogether, "You put up a good show at Rochester's. Thank you."

"Everyone at Rochester's place-," She said hesitantly. "Do you know them?"

"Yes." Athrun said, with the smallest, infinitesimal pause. "But with that crowd, you'll never know yourself."

She laughed suddenly and sincerely, relieved. She didn't know why she felt that way. Maybe it was that suggestion; that he might have known many people, but they had mattered very little to him.

And Cagalli held out her hand, as she would a truce.

He took it and shook it firmly, then before she could protest, drew her with the hand still in his, to him. Her hand was cold and small, but his was warm. They were inches apart, and she was afraid he could hear her breathing.

He looked at her with the enigma she could never understand completely, those emerald eyes. "As I said earlier, you performed well. This is your due. But it's not wise to try escaping from the middle of an ocean. There's no land nearby and there are only two people on this yacht."

Something in his voice chilled her. He could read her thoughts, she thought furiously. She hated that about him. No wonder her thoughts were worth so little to him when he could simply read them off her.

"I wasn't thinking about that." She lied immediately. "And I won't escape when you aren't looking."

He smiled coolly, his eyes warning her not to. "The boiler room and the bridge are off-limits."

And Athrun thought about the call he had made from the bridge, just before she had awoken. Explaining that he had brought her away for a while had been terribly troublesome. While he didn't inform all the Eyes, the Seventh Eye had reacted with enough agitation for all. Tom had nearly punctured Athrun's eardrums with his exclamation.

But Athrun had insisted on it. Nothing Tom advised could change his mind. Ultimately, Athrun wanted to get away from The Isle for a bit, with her. Nobody could stop him.

Besides, they were already far out at sea- there was no way of heading back to The Isle without his direct hand in it.

Then he let go, and she stepped back, charged from the contact.

The awkwardness and sensitivity to him increased, although he was the first to look away.

"How is this thing operating while you're standing here?" Cagalli inquired.

He looked at her in amusement. "Haven't you heard of auto-pilot modes? When the pilot or the captain and all the bridge members have to take toilet breaks, and if they all have to go at the same time for some reason-,"

"Right," Cagalli said hastily. His lip curled in a sneer, and she glared back at him. Her head was clearer than it had been, and her senses were assaulted by the slightly salty tinge in the air, but it was all very good.

There was a strange, squeaking noise behind them.

She turned back to the sea, instantly on alert, and saw porpoise tails. Forgetting everything, Cagalli squealed and waved to them, extending her hands.

They squawked at her in funny, squelching noises, and danced their grey forms in the deep waters.

Distracted, Cagalli was talking, babbling to the animals in her excitement and joy and being under an open sky once more. She looked like a small child, clapping her hands and imitating the noises the porpoises were making.

He looked at her, smiling.

She felt something for him. Obviously, she would.

She was lonely, frightened in this foreign place, desperate for a friendly face, for some kindness. Naturally, she would remember the Athrun Zala he had been in the past.

That was why she felt something for him and experienced the confusion he had seen each time he acted as her captor. She had not reconciled the fact that he was not the same person she remembered. Of course, she felt something for him still.

Despite what he'd said to her, he knew that it wasn't enough to have just that.

It wasn't. Nothing was ever enough until he had her entirely and completely. That had been his motivation for wanting to be with her that night, to have her in his arms for a few hours at least, and to hold her like she belonged to only him.

It wasn't the case that she wasn't good enough for him. In fact, she was far too good to deserve someone like him touching her. He had wanted to- that was a fact. He wanted to have her physically, let him love her, to feel her against him and remind him that he was still human and that he knew how to feel.

But even then, even if he had done that, it wouldn't have been enough, because she didn't really love him. So he couldn't take her- because in the morning, he would wake with her and she would be cold and even more distant than before, and he would be completely destroyed this time.

He had fallen in love with her all over again, even more deeply than he had in the past. But the same couldn't be said for her- especially not when he was her captor, not purely Athrun Zala.

Cagalli was humming to herself. The shapes below her spun in the water, their long noses protruding, clearly unafraid of the woman-child.

Animals were like that with their instincts. They knew who to fear and who not to.

Humans didn't know- their instincts were not as honed. So it was safer not to trust at all.

Despite the pain in him, he smiled, watching her enjoy the little happiness he could give her.

* * *

The hours flashed by quickly. Cagalli never even noticed them passing, let alone Athrun's absence, but she was too preoccupied exploring the yacht. It was a relatively small one when she compared to whatever she had been used to. But it was still spacious, with one long corridor with two staircases on either end that led to the deck.

The passageway had five cabins, including a bathroom. Two connected rooms were locked- the bridge and boiler, she assumed.

As he said, escaping was quite impossible. There was no way of her escaping with this ship, unless she jumped overboard and convinced the porpoises to ride her back to Orb.

Naturally, Cagalli decided to watch and wait. But in the mean time, there was no reason why she couldn't enjoy herself- even if he was around. Or perhaps, _because_ he was around.

The thought of this made her blush, and she decided to think of other things.

The deck was an expanse of space, divided by a few pillars. A pool beckoned to her, wide, rippling with some wind, deep and inviting. There was also a small boat at the side, a rescue boat, presumably.

She moved to it, thinking very quickly, but to her disappointment, she found that it was locked.

Glancing around, she decided to return to it later. She scarcely realised it, but a defense mechanism was present in her. Each time she was afraid or displaced, she carried on as if she had been used to her surroundings since the time of her existence. Even now, the lingering memories of the past clung to her, and she distanced herself from it by trying to immerse herself in the present.

She found a simple bathing suit and a towel in her closet, and proceeded to the pool.

Upon arrival, she stared at its length and depth. And something made a polite cough from the other side.

"You!" She exclaimed.

"Me." He said wryly.

Athrun was reclining on a white pool lounge, reading. Perhaps he had been here all this time.

Cagalli noticed that the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. Although there was nothing perceptibly different about his appearance, the recollection of his bare torso made her colour slightly. How fitting that he was reading War and Peace- perhaps he knew how to wage a silent war against her and her better sense.

"I suppose you're going to swim." He said languidly, casting an eye on her attire.

"I am," Cagalli said snootily, "Because I'm not preoccupied with my plans for world domination, you and your Leo Tolstoy."

The pool on the deck was gorgeous and azure. She sprang and slipped into it, splashing merrily and laughing, pretending that she was a sea creature as well.

He did not like looking at her, how modest but beautifully fitting her bathing suit was. Every single curve she had was clear from the outline of the suit, and he tried to insist that he was immune to those.

While the book was quite good, he had read it before. She was clearly more interesting to look at. But at least the book was less likely to make him ambush her in ways that would make even Dearka Elsman blush twelve different shades.

He muttered, "Noisy tomboy."

She splashed randomly to spite him and said tartly, "If you don't like what I'm doing, you might as well go below deck."

It struck him that Cagalli was trying to annoy him out of the area, so he smiled irritatingly and said suggestively, "But I do like what you're doing."

Apparently, Cagalli was not well-versed with innuendo. She looked puzzled, not quite catching his insinuations, not really understanding what he meant. But when he allowed his eyes to linger slowly on her neck, trailing down to her breasts and her hips, her mouth fell open.

She blanched, turning pink.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She said weakly. She folded her arms over her chest.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't." He said lazily, flipping a page he was scarcely reading at all.

Cagalli looked enraged. The tips of her ears were pink. "Let's see now. Because it's outrageous?"

He merely laughed, enjoying her anger and embarrassment. "Surely, you know that men are either horny or gay?"

"That's what Aaron said!" Cagalli said, amazed. Then she realised how ignorant she sounded and clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

Athrun raised and eyebrow. "And why would he have to educate you on that? Didn't you already know?"

She slapped the water with her palms, irritated that he was asking questions she couldn't answer. So what if she had ended up going to good ol' _gay _Aaron to ask about the male psyche for lack of people to ask? So what if she hadn't taken well to going out on dates and had been incredibly awkward when men had tried the usual hanky-panky?

"Were you this brazen seven years ago?" Cagalli countered.

Athrun considered this for a while, wondering why he had never tried flirting with her so openly in the past. He had wanted to, that was a given. But he had never been playful, teasing with her. He had been intent on treating her the right way, doing what he had never done with other girls. But somehow, he'd left out what a relationship needed to function in his blind desire to hold onto her.

And perhaps, Athrun had never found a need to flirt with Cagalli in the past- he'd assumed that he would always have time to get to know her better if he didn't already know her. The presumptuousness he had displayed!

"I was preoccupied with being gentlemanly." He said after a pause. "I behaved like a saint-cum-monk, if I remember correctly."

"You were a gentleman," She said stubbornly, trying to delude herself into thinking that she disliked this side of Athrun that she hadn't quite seen before.

"Was I?" He said, his smile amused and his eyes an intense forest colour that made her tingle. "I wish I had taken you up on that offer when we were about eighteen and I was Alex Dino."

"What?" Cagalli said warily.

Athrun leaned back, looking at her with a feline, almost predatory quirk of his lips. "We were at one of those gala events, and you stole away to a gazebo in the garden when everyone was supposed to be in the hall."

She shivered, trying not to notice the similarities in that incident and the night they'd shared at Rochester's Manor. Why was the past being repeated when she was trying so hard to forget it?

"And if I remember, Cagalli," He said in a soft, almost silken voice, "You asked me to kiss you over and over again."

"I didn't!" She denied vehemently.

"You did." Athrun said wryly. "Except that I refused to, telling you that a princess needed more restraint."

Her words carried the frantic embarrassment in her. "Well, you did the right thing. And don't bring that up ever again, that incident. I was young and foolish and probably tipsy. But I'm not like that anymore. I'm glad you did the right thing."

"Did I?" He mused. "I'd like to think that I've progressed since then."

"How so?" Cagalli said, dry-mouthed, regretting her question the minute she'd asked it.

His eyes lingered on hers and she found herself trembling as he looked at her.

"If I want something," Athrun said quietly, "I won't do something as silly as to push it away, hoping that another chance will present itself for me to take it."

He was looking at her very directly, and she bit her lips, feeling uncomfortable.

"And what about you?" He inquired, smiling in a benign, insincere way. "Do you still imitate traffic lights whenever a man makes a pass at you? And are you still trigger happy where shins are concerned?"

Her blood boiled. It was just like him to bring up an incident she wanted to bury for good and rub it in her face. Trust him to hit below the belt where her lack of luck with men was concerned.

But two could play at that game.

He was watching her lazily, triumphant with her lack of a comeback. He looked beautiful, almost dangerous like a cat, his fine features glinting in the sun as a gilded coin would.

"But Athrun," She said in a suspiciously breathy voice.

His eyebrows shot up as he watched her lower her eyelids until she was looking at him in a very strange, undeniably sultry manner. In fact, her next words almost caused him to fall off his chair.

"I've learnt. I've learnt so much since then."

He stared at her, feeling a stab of jealousy that she had probably moved on after they had ended their relationship. But this was hypocrisy, he knew. Athrun had tried to move on- nothing should have prevented her from doing likewise.

"Pray," Athrun said dryly, in a somehow suggestive manner he was trying to embarrass her with. "Will you be so kind as to demonstrate what you have learnt?"

"But Athrun," She said, making her lips moist with the thin, pink tip of her tongue. "You'd have to come closer-,"

She trailed off, making him swallow and lean forward, towards her.

And Cagalli pulled herself out of the water, her legs automatically curving so that her thighs and knees met like the bend of a seven. She sat at the edge of the pool, her palms flat on the wet stone.

He thought vaguely, that she looked like a mermaid, her golden hair all over her shoulders, her amber eyes watching him, her legs together behind her as she sat on them like a coiled tail. He was in danger of toppling off from his chair at this point.

Her bare arms were white from the absence of the sun, and her chest was heaving slightly and voluptuously.

He thought of the time he'd ended up trying to kill her when they'd first met, before she'd screamed. And when she had, he'd suddenly noticed that his arm was sandwiched between soft, rather generous breasts. Those had been camouflaged beneath a bulky, angular jacket, but the soldier was in fact, female. And very female, at that.

He wondered how the hell they'd embarked on this conversation. Something was thumping in his chest like a rock being thrown about. It annoyed him. But he couldn't analyse that surge of irritation- he was too caught up with Cagalli.

She sat very still, watching him with her golden eyes.

Then suddenly, she gathered water in her palms and shot it at him. He rolled aside in time, but ended up with a wet arm.

He scowled. "I came up for some sun. Not random spurts of water."

Cagalli responded by splashing some more. He made a sound of discontentment and watched her dart back again into the large pool like a nymph fleeing from Apollo, wondering why she was so alive in the water.

But having spent about three months in a single room, he could guess why. His gaze softened into a smile.

She swam to the edge again, giggling, a curious seal pup, and placed the tips of her fingers on the ledge of the pool.

He forced himself to sit back into his chair once more. And he took up the book and flipped a page violently, not looking at her, trying to avoid her searching eyes and pink lips.

There was a lull as she leaned against the pool's wall. It was better for them, he decided, to not speak to each other. Each time he heard her voice, he wanted to lose himself in it.

But she thwarted his plans by speaking. Her voice was a murmur that thrilled him, even though he did not register it.

"I wonder what Kira's doing now."

Athrun tried to hide his surprise and fear.

He looked at her carefully, wondering why she had asked. Was it that she could sense Kira even from where she was? Surely, Epstein had not spoken to her about the recent developments?

"Working on his next groundbreaking theory, I suppose." He answered curtly. He would have to be very careful on what he chose to say next. "The Plants are very reliant on his projects."

She caressed the water with an open palm, and distracted, he stared at the white hand waving its fingers through the ripples. He wondered what it would be like having her hand on his cheek, soft and feathery.

"Yes, well, he gains acceptance very easily, despite what he thinks." Cagalli murmured. "People wind up loving him."

He registered what she was saying, although he felt her emotions more strongly than anything else. Above all, Athrun wondered if she would ever say the same about him. Probably not. He felt something swell darkly in him and realised it was envy.

"And you?" He asked numbly, trying to keep the misery from his voice.

"I loved him the minute I saw him." Cagalli said decisively, so innocent that she didn't know that she was hurting him. "I loved him so deeply that I was surprised by my own reaction to him. But then when my father gave me that photograph, I understood why I felt as if he was another part of me."

Her face was even more beautiful with the reflection of the water as darting lights from below her. Naturally, it was difficult to keep his concentration and defences when she was like that.

Athrun was transfixed by her voice. There were always so many emotions within the tender contralto, quavering and present in a string of intensity. Now it held tender affection and even jealousy.

"I'm sure he loved you at first sight too." Athrun admitted.

'Even now, you're still part of him.' He thought morosely.

"He and I don't get along as well as you might think," She said ruefully, her smile very sad and shy. "We rarely agree completely with each other."

Athrun was puzzled by this. "You mean when you first met? He told me that he hit you once in his anger, even though he had given you the capsule pod in Carpentaria."

A strange expression came over Cagalli's face. "Well, there was that. But even now, we don't talk very much."

Athrun was disconcerted by this, although he didn't know why. He began to make excuses for what she didn't seem willing to discuss "The war changed him somewhat. It made him more withdrawn. That's all."

"Of course." She said dully. "He's still my twin. Nothing will change that. Not even if we both change, not even if he doesn't recognise me anymore."

There was anger in her that burned through her face and its impassivity. He saw hatred in her eyes, and a weariness that surprised him.

He gazed at her. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." She said stubbornly, realising that she'd said too much.

She kept her lips firmly pursed. But he understood that in her world of flashing bulbs, tireless cameramen and truth-distorting tabloids, secrecy was the highest form of respect she could pay.

He paused and watched her as she began to dip into the water once more.

There was a grace she displayed in the water that was quite different from her purposeful march while she was a land creature.

In the water, she was weightless, wistful even. He could watch her forever, he thought. And she would always evade him, whether by her own will or a force beyond them.

And he felt a tug of envy in his heart. Kira would always have a part of Cagalli because they were essentially joined by something greater than their physical forms. Even now- hadn't Kira said that he sensed that Cagalli was safe and alive still, in the most recent statement?

It was very curious. Kira and Cagalli were separated by more than two thousand miles of ocean. And yet, she thought of him, and he could sense her. Athrun wondered if he would ever have a bond with her like the one she shared with Kira.

But nothing Athrun said would make Cagalli tell him more about Kira- there was a selfish, desperate way she clung to the secrets her twin had probably shared with her, the way she wanted to know everything about Kira and refused to share this with others. But he sensed that something of their relationship had changed.

He watched as the golden fish of her form returned back to his side of the pool.

Her eyes watched him warily as he watched her, and then she smiled bewilderedly but beguilingly, finding no threat about him, apparently.

She began to close her eyes, basking in the gentle light.

Slowly, Athrun reflected that he was idealising her, as all men tended to do with women they were utterly besotted by.

Cagalli Yula Atha had the stamp of royalty and power mixed in her veins, giving her the strength of a man's will and the ways of one. She rejected a woman's ways of depending on a male for providence and abhorred the attention men showered on her.

But in private, she was indecisive and was of no use to the politics she belonged in. That was hardly her own fault. It was her nature to love and hate so intensely that she was guided by emotion when she was without a country to account for.

The princess was coolheaded and absolutely rational. But Cagalli had only a semblance of this if one could manage to find her isolated from her tasks.

Magazines loved her face, the slightly haughty, lovely features that evoked thoughts of authority and even glamour beyond her age.

And of course, the real woman was only growing into an image that had been cast for her since she was a child.

From the way publicity had worked, Cagalli Yula Atha was something beyond the moral realm, flawless and without a shred of human failing. Given that she had shown plenty of it during her time as an Emir, it was doubtless that her parliament and publicity managers wanted to alienate her from the past.

But the creature in front of him was not the Orb Princess here on this yacht.

This creature was a woman.

He thought of the night they'd nearly shared, she leading him on in her drunken stupor, and wondered how many men had held amorous thoughts of her only to realised that she was disconnected from the reality of her own attractiveness.

Athrun stared at the swell of her ripe breasts under her swimsuit- luscious and appealing, begging to be unpeeled, touched and squeezed like fruit.

Surely she had realised her power over men? Even her soft, pink mouth held the curves of innuendo for every man who looked at her; surely she saw this in the mirror daily?

But he derived the answer almost immediately- Cagalli hardly realised this or recognised it for that matter.

'That's the problem,' He thought amusedly. 'She's allowed them to say that she's immortal for her political power's sake, and she's allowed herself to think that she isn't human anymore.'

Outside Orb, this woman was a klutz, a spitfire, a tomboy, and her body was brimming with golden promise and the flush of youth. He couldn't ignore that. He had once- but not anymore. Of all things, he couldn't ignore that.

He studied her as she drifted slightly but continued anchoring herself to the side of the pool as she dozed slightly. Her skin had lost its paleness and had taken on a creamy peach colour. He felt his loins tighten but his head was throbbing and raging against something.

With some bitterness, he realised that he understood her more as her captor on The Isle than he ever had in the past.

She began to stir as the waves lapped against her. Then suddenly, Cagalli splashed water at him, laughing and diving into the waves. He cursed under his breath, noting that War and Peace was soaked to its spine because of her.

But all the same, Athrun relented into a state of bemusement, pulling off his shirt for the sun and the world to admire the lean, fair torso that crashed and submerged into the water.

Cagalli, however, squeaked and swam to the other end of the pool unprepared that he was joining her. He treaded to her, and she floundered in a circle, trying to avoid him even as he approached her.

Then abruptly, he smiled at her. "What now?"

"Nothing." She said shyly. Her arms betrayed her by crossing over her chest, forcing her to lean against the wall. It was a very defensive position that foiled her words.

He grinned, accurately guessing the source of her awkwardness. "Haven't you seen a half-naked male before? I was under the impression that you were a lot less sheltered. That night, after Rochester's soiree, you were begging me to-"

She flushed with colour, interrupting him. "Let's not talk about that," Cagalli said hastily, "Don't bring that up again. I was drunk and all, so that's not counted."

"Surely, you aren't embarrassed to see me like this?" There was definitely a flirtatious note in his voice. He moved a little closer to her in the water.

Cagalli shot him an evil stare. "Look, Mister, don't goad me when you can't."

"And why can't I?" Athrun said in the same infuriating voice.

"Because I've seen half-naked males before," She barked at him, a bit like a colonel. "Even naked ones. And there's nothing to it at all."

She blushed at her lie.

Oh well. She had seen a biology textbook's diagrams, surely that trauma had counted for something. Besides, she had read plenty on that kind of thing, thanks to Aaron's Congress of chick-lit. Surely, that counted for something?

He raised an eyebrow, and said slowly, "Really now?"

Cagalli created ripples with her hands, deciding to lie through the lie and imitating his smirk for lack of a better option. "Er- yes."

"Liar," He said lazily, leaning against the pool's wall. "You were so embarrassed when I took off my shirt that you almost ran out of the pool. Being sober sucks, doesn't it? You were far less embarrassed when you were drunk and clinging to me. You couldn't wait to get me out of my shirt the other night."

His voice was a tuning fork in the air, so fine and so imperceptible. She actually had to lean closer to make out the words, but when she understood, she reacted vehemently against him.

"Oh stop harping on that!" She exclaimed, mortified at his accuracy. "That was just a mistake I'm glad we didn't commit!"

"Yes." He said simply, "I want you sober."

Before she could say anything, he cornered and kissed her, wrapping his bare arms about hers. He didn't simply kiss her; he tilted her head back for his mouth to gain complete excess to hers.

She couldn't help thinking that as teenagers, they had been shy and hesitant, blushing, afraid to be found, kissing on a sort of mutual dare.

But this was different and more addictive, with more danger in it than anything she could think of.

She moaned back into his kiss, enjoying the sensation of the water lapping about them, and the cool smoothness of his skin on hers in the water. Her hands found his shoulders and she clung onto him, gasping silently in shock and lust when his hand fondled a breast wantonly.

His name on her lips was swallowed by their kiss, and she found herself blushing but not struggling even though she had every reason to slap him senseless. She was both shocked and pleased by his brazenness with her- as if he were challenging her to something.

When he released her for air, she mouthed numbly, "Are you fooling around with me?"

He smirked devastatingly and kissed her roughly, stealing her air again. "What do you think?"

He was surprising her, he certainly was.

Straight-laced, gentlemanly, filthy-language-shy Athrun Zala was definitely a different animal with her. Wasn't he supposed to be a nice, well-bred, German Shepard sort, strong but always well-behaved and sitting upright, paws together? When had she ever seen him smirk so openly?

She blushed, trying to ignore the fact that she had enjoyed his attentions.

"You're an awfully bad liar," He said abruptly, breaking their contact.

"I'm not a liar," She muttered, "I've had boyfriends other than you I enjoyed being with- sorry to prick your ego-,"

His eyes regarded her sceptically, as if reminding her of the way she'd responded to him.

Angrily, she pushed away, slipping out of the corner they'd been trapped in, accidentally brushing her body against his and recoiling from the giddying sensation. "And just for your information, I'm not interested in you, even if you're a bloody good kisser."

"Thanks," He said calmly. "Now why not?"

Shocked at her own slip of tongue, she stared at him. "Are you implying that you're interested in me?"

"Well, what does it look like?" Athrun said exasperatedly. He ran a hand through his hair impatiently. "Does it look like I'm coming near you because I want to discuss politics and world peace?"

She gaped at him, trying to tell herself that he was just trying to flatter her, that he was untrustworthy, and that her heart had _not_ skipped a beat. "Why'd you be interested in me? Other than being occasionally horny and desperate or something?"

His expression was both humorous and cynical. "Perhaps I should correct your misconception- you may have been drunk and senseless that night, but I certainly wasn't."

"Excuse me," She fired back. "It's not my fault that I've got to respond somehow when you ambush me. If anything, it's your fault- you keep trying to get too cosy and I don't know what to do-,"

He shrugged. "I can't help it."

"Damn it, you must!" Cagalli said in her desperation.

She heard Athrun laugh his cool, scoffing chuckle. "Are you so embarrassed?"

"I supposed you'd be if someone bloody groped you," She muttered grudgingly. His eyes trailed to her chest and she glared at him, although she felt a thrill settle between her thighs.

"I couldn't help it." He said in that charmingly offhand, slightly aggravating way.

And she was irritated that he had made her feel irritated and that she'd become irritated, just as he had planned. Oh the little bastard…

"Don't do this." She said in a low voice. She could not bear watching him try to come close to her, like the other men she was obliged to kick away at some point of their attempted conquest. Deep inside, she knew that she could not bear to be close to him, because she did not know how to deal with him.

"You liked it." He said curtly. "You wanted me."

"I did not like it!" She cried in mortification. "And I do not- want- want,"

"You liked it," He said seriously, but his mouth twitching now. "I heard you respond to me, because you wanted me."

"Stop!" She said loudly, desperately, blushing, cupping her ears childishly like she had never read adult novels before, like she was a school girl, like she had never met a man before. Wasn't she well-versed with all this? Hadn't she read all the books there were to read about dealing with these things? Then why was she acting like a school girl?

But then, hadn't she always reacted this way as a school girl? Embarrassed at risqué jokes, afraid to be caught listening to sensational stories? Dear Haumea- to be caught like this, looking ignorant and hopeless, by him no less-

"Well, you liked it," Athrun said calmly, and making her tingle with anger and awkwardness. "There's no point being a child over this. Do you hear me, Cagalli? We're going to have to deal with this the way we never faced it in the past."

He looked at her, his emerald eyes stormy, his face serious. "Don't turn away. Open your eyes and see it for yourself. We can't help being attracted to each other."

She began to sputter.

"No, I'm not!" She said incoherently. "I don't know what you mean! Don't bring me together in the broad category of your harem. I don't know what happened between you and Meyrin, but I've got nothing to do with you and it's just you and your bloody ego-,"

What harem was she babbling about? He knew women liked to be near him, and he had no aversion to that when push came to shove. Besides, he didn't want to be alone night after night. After all, Athrun had learnt how to make use of their affections a long time ago.

But Cagalli was different. He didn't want to use her. He had never wanted to use anyone, although he had ended up doing just that. So all the more, he would avoid using her.

"No," He said easily. "Leave that girl's name out of this."

"She was a lovely person," Cagalli said accusingly, "And you were unfaithful to her."

He didn't bother reminding Cagalli that he had politely ignored Meyrin throughout the war's aftermath. He had only thought of one thing- finding his way back to Orb.

It was poetic injustice that Cagalli was using this as an example of him being like any other fickle man that she had probably met after him.

"Did you think that I loved Meyrin Hawke?" He said apathetically. "Did you think that asking her to be with me would empty of all thoughts of you?"

He was surveying her, wondering if he dared to act upon his desire, seize and touch her as he had wanted to for so long.

"Please," She begged painfully. "For our sake, Athrun, stop this fooling around. I won't be able to handle it if you keep trying to waylay me. It's pretty clear that we had a history, but for our sake, I want to forget it."

"Wasn't seven years enough for you to forget?" He said ironically.

"Nearly," She said angrily. "But you had to appear and ruin it all. You're always like that. Appearing at the worst possible moments and then sailing off like nothing's happened."

"Well then," Athrun said softly, with a kind of triumph that made her recoil, "That's proved it. You never forgot. The past didn't go anywhere."

He took her wrists gently, without any resistance, and he kissed them. She watched, trembling as he looked at her with a joy and sadness that made her ache for him.

But somehow, she knew that it wasn't right to go on like this. Somehow, she mustered the strength to yank her wrists from him. She found the will to pull her out of the pool, to put a distance between them that allowed them both a safety net.

Something was smarting in her, and without knowing why or where the words came from, she snapped, "I doubt that what I'm about to say will make any impact on your life. But when you disappeared, I couldn't sleep without waking up once every hour, for months."

She strode away.

He remained silent after she was gone, staring into space for some time.

Then he thought about the exchange. And Athrun began to laugh helplessly.

Slowly, surely, she would accept what they meant to each other once more. What he had just seen convinced him that she had felt resentment at his disappearance. And it assured him that he was making progress with her.

He realised then, that his own anger towards her betrayals had resulted in him loving her even more.

They would never learn. They could never learn.

* * *

The next day, Athrun took her fishing in a small dory, the same rescue boat she had noticed. But first, he unlocked it from the yacht's side. He seemed to have forgotten about the exchange they had made in the pool. Or perhaps, he was simply keeping quiet about it. Either was good enough, Cagalli decided. She wanted to avoid conversations of that nature, at all costs.

Cagalli watched as he slipped the key into his pocket.

"Don't bother." He said warningly. "There's a combination you don't know of."

"I wasn't thinking of anything like that." She lied. They got into the motor boat, and it was automatically lowered into the sea. They sped off into the distance, though the yacht was still visible.

The porpoises followed them, quite enamoured with the human friend they had become quite acquainted with. And delightedly, she stroked their slippery backs, laughing. Athrun was less receptive towards them. He stood, watching her with a slightly droll look on his face.

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," Cagalli said brightly. "They're beautiful and it's fabulous weather.

"But we won't have any fish." He said wryly. "Of course, no fishes would go near a boat with porpoises circling it."

"Yes, well," Cagalli paused. "We don't really need fish, do we?"

"No," He retorted while smiling insincerely, "We brought the boat a few metres from the yacht just to watch fishes swim away from us."

She snorted, hitting him lightly on the arm. "All that's missing is the beer."

"Only because you didn't look carefully for it," He scoffed, pointing at a box.

Blissfully, she opened it and threw him a chilled cylinder, and she took a swallow of it and sighed in contentment. Cagalli, Princess of Orb, may have been any beer-bellied, rural-dweller enjoying a free day if one judged only the sound of her sigh.

"Alcoholic," He sniffed.

"Wussy." She retorted.

"Tomboy."

"I resent that!"

"I know."

"Shut up."

"Is that the best you can do, Tomboy?"

"I said shut it-, argh!"

"What?" Athrun said sardonically, "Frustrated at your astounding eloquence?"

"No," Cagalli said excitedly. "I've got something on the pull!"

"The bait the porpoise is trying to get at?" He said merrily, taking another swig of his beverage.

"No, you twerp," She said impatiently. "Come help me with this- it must be a huge fish!"

"A greedy porpoise?"

"Porpoises are mammals," She said archly, and then her expression turned comical as she began to heave, throwing her beer to one side where it spilled on his arm.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," She muttered, wrangling and trying to reel in the said fish. Athrun noticed that she was not sounding sorry at all," But it would be easier if you did this instead. I don't have your brute strength."

"Fine," He grumbled. "But if you pull up a boot, I will not let you forget it."

He crossed over to the bench on the other side of the small dory, and he sat behind her, straddling the bench as she did.

Wordlessly, he grabbed the rod from behind her, expecting her to let go and leave him to exhibit the aforementioned brute strength. But she clung on stubbornly, and surprised he asked, "Aren't you going to let go?"

"Don't be silly," She scoffed. "If I can't do it alone, what makes you think you can without me?"

His mouth twitched. "So I'm just the supplementary part?"

"Yep," She said, leaning back and unconsciously electrifying him with her soft hair that tickled his neck. "Just like when the Strike needs more electricity, there's this carrier that plugs it up. You're like that- not very necessary, but rather when the Strike's almost out of power."

He could scarcely think of a comeback at that point. She was thrashing to conquer the fish, even though she was quite strong, and the net result was her body pressed and moving against his.

But Athrun couldn't help noticing that she smelt of honey and wild tangerine and her arched neck was shining with sweat. She was wearing a very loose singlet and shorts, and her arms and legs were exposed to the wind and his body. As she struggled wildly to wind in the end of her fishing rod, her body whipped in his arms, and no matter how he tried, he could not avoid touching her.

Her slender but strong arms were rubbing against his, her back writhing against his chest, her firm rear moving vigorously against his stiff thighs. He leaned forward unconsciously, somehow wanting to feel her closer to him. From where he sat, he could peer down, past her shoulder and collarbone, past the loose neckline. Her singlet was unfitted, and from this angle, it revealed a little of her tender breasts trembling beneath the cloth.

Athrun could have sworn that his cheeks were heating up, although he hadn't blushed for a very long time. He didn't know why he was getting affected by her- perhaps, he'd never seen her as a woman, more of an idol. Now, he understood why he even fell in love with her.

He'd fallen in love with her for her flaws and her fallibility, and how beautiful she was despite or because of it.

"Stop for a bit-" She panted. "On the count of three, we'll both pull."

He suspected that she was having a secret laugh at how affected he was by her.

She shifted, as if confirming his thoughts, and her rear rubbed closer to his thighs and the uncomfortable sensation that was threatening to become even more painful. Why the little minx-

Well, two could play at that.

"I'll do it when you ask me to," He said softly, speaking near the delicate shell of her ear. He tightened his hands on hers. His forearms were weighing down on hers, and he twined them around brazenly.

It was rather simple reasoning- to ensure that she did not seduce him, he would have to first seduce her. And this was a task he contemplated as being rather enjoyable.

He murmured her name very softly.

She froze.

And he saw that she had sensed something different in his voice's current.

She then turned her head slightly towards him, trying to get her ear away from his lips, and they realised how rough his voice had become in its huskiness.

He took advantage of her momentary paralysis to run his lips over the fine, peach skin of ear lobe, biting. She gasped, and he tightened his thighs firmly around her.

"Aren't we going to get started?" He said huskily.

He could play at her game too, better than she ever would.

Distracted, she said weakly, "What? Oh. Ah. Right. One, two,-"

And in her haste, she pulled before she'd counted to three. Instead of a synchronised effort, she buckled against him, knocking the wind out of him.

He collapsed with a curse, lying flat on his back on the boat, her weight crushing him with the impetus that had sent them both flying.

A silver crescent flopped on the boat, and cheering, she disentangled herself, grabbed a pail and capped it over the dancing sliver.

He sat up, massaging his temples. "So?"

She grinned at him, also sitting in a rather awkward position. "A whopper."

He grinned reluctantly, realising that she was too innocent to play these games with him. Oh well. He had enjoyed imagining that she wasn't well-behaved enough to abstain from teasing him.

"Let me," Athrun said eagerly, and they crouched by the pail in the cramped boat like children squatting around their games. Then they lifted it slowly, gingerly, and caught sight of the trout, its wide, staring eyes and its thick lips.

"Good god!" He exclaimed. The mood had changed quite suddenly. They were no longer on that dangerous edge- they had forgotten how potent the magnetism of their bodies were towards each other.

Athrun was not sure if he was happy that Cagalli seemed to forget it fairly quickly.

But he went along with it, because it wouldn't do to get too caught up in the game either.

"I told you it was a whopper!" Cagalli said happily. "We'll have a terrific dinner!"

He turned slightly pale.

"It's got a face!" He said in a strange voice.

His tone of revulsion made her eyes light up. She was the devil incarnate, this woman. She looked at him coyly.

"So you don't want to eat it after all that work?" Cagalli said mischievously.

"It's got a bloody face!"

"You're such a wussy!" She laughed.

"You're such a bloody carnivore!"

She began to giggle and bared her teeth in a very canine manner. "And why aren't you a vegetarian if you're so scared of a little meat?"

"Excuse me," Athrun said with great dignity. "I like my meat without a face."

"We'll have fish head curry then," Cagalli said impishly, "So you'll see the floating head and its face, and you won't eat it. I'll have your portion and eat it in front if you. And I'll tell you what you're missing out on."

"You'll regret it."

She threw back her head, laughing at his dark expression. But he tackled her, and the boat threatened to overturn.

"Hey!' Cagalli cried, "Don't! It's dangerous!"

"What's without a little risk?" He said directly, looking at her.

She blushed. "I know what you're playing at. Stop it."

She was suddenly and keenly acute of their bodies. Her senses seemed to have become an animal's, sniffing out the heady air and his aftershave. There was her shampoo's scent, the saltiness of their flesh and the texture of his skin moving across hers.

He stared at her, and wordlessly, he brushed her fringe out of her eyes.

Athrun looked at her intently, although he knew that she was experiencing the same heat that he had moments ago. He could see it in the way her lips and cheeks were pink and the strange light in her eyes, despite her confusion.

"What's wrong?" He asked lightly. "Didn't you say that you know what I'm playing at?"

Suddenly, he decided that he'd had enough of going along with what she wanted. It was time they came clean with each other. If he was going to pursue it, he would do it without hesitation. If she was going to lead him on, she was going to have to be open about it. Of course, he didn't expect her to do what she did next.

She was so unpredictable, his Cagalli.

"I do." She said directly, ridding her face of any expression except a distinctive come-hither one, "And I assure you, Athrun, I know what I'm doing too. I'm going to enjoy myself tonight."

She gazed at him with an expression that could only be described as sultry, and he felt the air compress around him.

Then she said very bluntly, ruining the sugary, tempting atmosphere, "Dinner will be fish head curry."

He blanched.

* * *

Kira looked rather impressive in his uniform, standing tall, his face without any clear expression that she could identify.

The last time she had seen this expression had been a long time ago- when he'd stood in front of a night sky watching the meteor rains of flaming debris falling from space.

She peered to get a closer look.

Next to him, were a dozen bodyguards. The foreground showed the steps of the Parliament House, and the background the massive structure itself.

It was strange, watching her husband on the television like this. He was stepping up to the podium, lights everywhere, the sound of cameras and people a constant buzz in the background.

Worried, Lacus leaned closer to the light of the television set, trying to see, just like so many in that massive crowd, whether Kira Yamato was speaking or not. She reminded herself to be careful- it wouldn't do to fall off the divan.

"I wish they'd keep quiet." Lacus muttered.

She peered closer to the screen, bringing an arm to the floor to palm the cool marble floor of the service apartment Kira had rented. Her head was throbbing, and she felt drained of every ounce of blood. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head.

Then a sound from behind startled her. But she was too tired to sit up properly to look as the door swung open and her husband moved in.

He was deep in though, and as he pulled his coat off, it revealed the Orb uniform he had worn just hours ago. Underneath this, he was wearing a bullet-proof jacket- part of the mandatory security after Cagalli had vanished.

Kira saw that Lacus was huddled in a foetal position, pale and wan, merging into the divan. He made a sound of fear, and he hurried over, his eyes wide and worried. He helped her to sit up, checking her quickly while he knelt by her side.

"What happened?" He said anxiously, seeing how white she was, and how clammy her forehead was with her sweat.

"I was sick." She whispered, wishing that the sour taste had vanished from her mouth. She had rinsed it twice, but the feeling of kneeling over the toilet, vomiting and panting did not go away.

He turned as pale as she did, and stood up. "I'm calling a doctor. Then I'm calling Plant for a shuttle to get you back there."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Lacus assured him hastily. "It's the usual. Nothing wrong about it."

She pointed to the television, hoping to distract him. "I didn't expect you to be back. Isn't this a live telecast?

The announcer was shouting above the swell of the crows, "Live, outside the Orb Parliament House, there he is- one of the the Zaft Generals takes his seat at the head of the Congress-,"

The announcer was drowned out by the ongoing noise, and Kira smiled tensely.

"Wait," Lacus said slowly. "It was filmed separately."

"You know better than I do about these things." Kira reminded her gently. "There's no such thing as a live telecast these days. This event was a very volatile one- they had to make sure that it was released only a few hours after the actual thing."

She made him sit by her, and he slipped an arm about her, comforting her.

They gazed at the telecast of Kira, announcing that all would be fine.

He watched himself speak to the crowds. The camera panned back to the crowds, showing as they cheered and clapped. He closed his eyes, imagining again, that he was flanked by a flag-bearer. The telly set showed a Lion emblem, fluttering in the breeze, a flower in its mouth.

The prime minister stepped up, announcing, "Change must come to Orb! If she has been assassinated, we cannot retaliate, but we must look for the highest form of justice through diplomacy! To have another war will be a repeat of the madness we are still trying to leave behind! We-"

Lacus looked nervously at her husband, who was still watching numbly.

The camera switched abruptly, showing the people, who were cheering loudly and waving in the air, shouting "That's right! That's good!"

The inconsistency was so slight, and so quick that Lacus only noticed it a moment later. She turned back to Kira, her eyes questioning.

"Someone threw his shoes at the prime minister," He told her with a wan smile. "He was trying to dissuade people from acting on their patriotic feelings and trying to dissuade them from starting another war. He said that if the Orb Princess had been assassinated, then it was God's will and we had to move on. In other words, he believed that Orb needed to ignore the incident and pretend that nothing had happened."

"So the people got upset?" Lacus said queasily.

"Yes. The rest cheered the shoe-thrower on." Kira said wanly.

Lacus glanced back at the 'live' telecast, how they'd edited the footage to show people cheering the prime minister on. "Will they support you?"

"The ministers have pledged their support." He said wearily. "I suppose the people will as well. In order to have Orb's trust, I need to go along with their sentiments for now. There is a compromise- that we will wait for a little while longer before the next step is decided. But I have promised them that retaliation will be carried out if Scandinavia refuses to cooperate with us in the near future."

Lacus felt blood drain out of her face as she turned back to the television. Kira was being cheered on by the thousands who had gathered to welcome him as the proxy.

He would have to work for their trust. Everyone knew this. One false step would undo everything his twin had worked for, and it would endanger both him, Plant, and his family. But to gain the support of Orb, he had to accept their anger and their thirst for revenge.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with sympathy, and he laughed.

"Don't worry." He said with his voice strong and confident, for both their sakes. "It'll be over before you know it. She'll return. I know. I have promised to do what Orb wants if we don't make headway with Scandinavia soon. But I'm sure that Orb won't have to go to war. Something will turn the situation around."

"What can? How can it?" Lacus said anxiously. She had lost her appetite for a few days when it had been reported that Cagalli Yula Atha had gone missing in the midst of a scuffle in the middle of the Scandinavian Oceans.

It was difficult coming to terms with the fact that her sister-in-law and dearest friend was possibly dead. She hadn't succeeded yet.

He stroked her cheek briefly, making her lie down properly. Then he took the remote control, lowering the volume because she signalled that she still wanted to watch.

"I don't know how I can be so sure." Kira said uncomfortably. "But I believe she's safe, somewhere."

He kissed her lips lightly, bringing a hand to her conspicuous belly, watching as she relaxed. He took her hand into his, trying to warm it. "Thank you for coming here, Lacus."

"I have to be here." Lacus said firmly. "With you."

He felt a sigh escape from him. There was so much at risk- a child they'd been hoping for was finally here, and he didn't want anything to go wrong. "I'm going to arrange a shuttle back to Plant for you. You shouldn't be here, not when you're due in just a month's time."

She looked at him stubbornly. "I'd rather stay here and help you."

He smiled, trying to hide his fears from her. "I have enough help already. Everyone's going to be behind me. Aaron Biliensky, Cagalli's personal aide, swears he'll kill anybody who tries to make my time here difficult. It'll be fine."

She looked at him, wondering how he could be so strong for their sakes.

"I'd rather you take care." He told her. "If you return to Plant, to the nursing home, it's less risky."

She stared at him, and then finally relented, because she knew he was correct.

But before she buried her face in his chest, she said quietly to him, "If Cagalli isn't fine, and if she doesn't return soon, I don't know what we'll do."

"One step at a time." Kira said patiently. "It will fall in place."

"But Kira," She said sadly, "What do you believe in?"

"I believe in peace." He said without hesitation.

She looked into his face, seeing the scars beyond his flawless, young face, the age in his eyes that hinted of the horrors he had experienced. But in those numb, tired eyes, she saw anger and hatred, anger that she had always tried to deny.

Still, that primitive emotions of rage and tendency towards strife existed in him, and it existed in her too. She would be hurt by whoever hurt Cagalli, and she would want to hurt that person too. What more Kira, when Cagalli was part of him?

Her voice trembled with empathy. "Do you really?"

He found that his hand tightened, crushing the delicate bones in her hand. She did not cry out, however. She embraced his pain, as she always had.

"I don't know." Kira admitted. How like Lacus to understand what he himself failed to. "If I let Orb take its revenge on Scandinavia, in the case that they did hurt Cagalli, another war will start. I don't want that. But deep inside, I want to take my own revenge on whoever who has hurt her, if they have. I'd hunt them down and kill them for taking her away."

"You've promised to do as Orb wants." Lacus said softly. "But Orb will want to exact revenge if Cagalli has been hurt. Will you let the peace she's built be destroyed for her people's sake?"

He did not answer, because he had no answer for her.

The television continued to play footage of Cagalli, smiling and waving from the backdrop of the Orb flag, waving to crowds as they cheered her on.

* * *

A few hours later, Athrun came and stood by her while she reeled in strands of seaweed and little else. When they had returned to the yacht, she had subsided into a sullen silence, and he had left it at that.

Cagalli was not very tall, barely reaching his lip level when she was barefooted and warm from the dying sun's last efforts.

Moreover, she was bent over the yacht, trying to reel in random bits of junk.

He glanced at the line of white and grey shells that she'd drawn in and lain in neat squadrons. Such a scavenger, she was. The sounds of the porpoises were like squabbling children, flashing around the boat, grey and silver in the growing orange evening.

"Cagalli," He said in a low voice, "It's getting dark."

She looked at him shyly, her eyes wide and wary, and he saw that her shoulders had stiffened. "Hello."

But she had came here again, creeping out like a little shadow, keen to avoid being seen. Of course, he had run into her.

"I don't think you'll get much by fishing from here." He said.

She sighed once, slumping a little. "I guess so. These porpoises have been hanging around ever since I saw them."

"You encourage them," Athrun admitted. "I suppose they like humans."

As if to prove his point, a porpoise leapt out of the water, trying to catch a fish that had flipped its way out of the water, and the rest of the pod did too.

They made funny, squawking noises, and he laughed.

She brightened, clapping her hands at their little show.

There was something necessary about her, something magnetic in the way he looked to her and found her shining form a necessity in any landscape that he was in.

"Look," She called to him, "Athrun!"

He loved her more than anything he could hold onto as a human. And ironically, she was beyond him, whether in her own mind, the reality of their social positions, or the chaos of their pasts.

Hesitating, Athrun stepped closer.

She let go of the boat's wall she had held, whirling around to him, and her voice was musical in the still air where encircling birds dove around their boat.

"Athrun," She said excitedly, "Look, look they did that leap-,"

He took her hand in his, ignoring everything else. Surprised, she stared at him, but he did not show embarrassment, only gazed at her intently.

Cagalli blushed and lowered her head, and the pink and orange streaks around them cumulated into dark shadows near their feet. The gulls were flapping rowdily and their snowy wings disguised their nature as scavengers.

He held her hand in his and said gently, "Come with me."

"Where?" Cagalli asked wildly.

"Come below the deck." Athrun said quietly. "We deserve this."

"What do you want from me?" She said in a ragged little voice.

She looked at him with wide eyes now, frightened, like a cornered animal that was too paralysed to flee.

"Come with me." Athrun said again, looking directly at her. "It's time."

"No," She said softly, pleading, "Please. I can't. We can't- this fooling around. We're physically attracted to each other but there's nothing we can do about it, or that we ought to do about it except ignore everything."

He stared at her with the growing, familiar pain. "Why can't you accept me if you have feelings for me?"

She wrenched her hand out of his, as if he had suddenly burnt her. How could she tell him that she wasn't worthy of his love?

"It isn't right." She said staunchly. "If I go with you, we'd be building a relationship that doesn't exist on anything."

"And what if I tell you everything that you want to know?" He said sharply. "Will you trust me then?"

She paused, looking at him.

"What do you mean?" She said slowly, her face white. "Tell me everything? For me to trust you? What do you mean?"

He nodded, not daring to believe that he was sacrificing so much for a single chance for him to regain what he'd lost a long time ago. But he needed to. How else would she agree to let him love her?

"You mustn't." Cagalli said resolutely. "We must remain as a captor and captive. Nothing more."

"Why?" He argued. "Isn't it obvious that I have feelings only for you and-,"

"Don't," She interrupted wearily. "Don't say anymore, please. Let's just continue on- let me cook dinner for you tonight, and we'll have a truce. And when you bring me back to The Isle, things will be normal again with everyone around us and you as Rune Estragon, and I as a captive."

He was silent.

"The months will pass and I'll be back in Orb, safe as you promised, and this episode will be behind us." Cagalli concluded.

He looked at her pale, unflinching eyes, no longer the colour of amber flowers but like faded sepia. And knew that he could not say otherwise.

Wordlessly, he guided her to the kitchen, where she slipped on an apron they found somewhere, and she began to cook.

He asked to help, and she allocated carrots and potatoes for him to cut while she gutted a fish and soaked mushrooms to make a creamy sauce. He was surprised to see that she had become very competent, even natural in the apron that she wore.

It appeared that Cagalli had become something of a domestic goddess, despite the unbelievable nature of it all.

"You can cook," He said in surprise, when she placed fragrant, steaming plates on the small wooden table, a small corner that looked like an afterthought to the place. They had been working together for their meals for these few days, and it had been mostly him doing the cooking.

She looked bemused. "Is that an insult?"

"No," He swallowed, looking unsure, "I mean-,"

Aaron had taught her how to cook, actually. He loved to sail over to her house after work with his niece. She had been resistant to the idea of her friend teaching her how to cook, since he did enough helping her at work. But he insisted, and eventually, she had relented for the sake of having company that she enjoyed thoroughly. He was a fantastic cook, and it had made Cagalli wonder how many women had been disappointed at his sexual orientation.

During so many evenings, she laboured over meals that ended up being served only for her. But at least, it took up some of the hours when she did not have any work to do.

She said smilingly at Athrun, ignoring the twinge of loneliness, "Being alone in a big house makes you competent at these things."

He looked at her. "Alone?"

She made a sound that indicated the inability to say what she really thought. "I suppose one person doesn't require twenty servants. And when Kisaka and Mana retired, I had the whole house to myself. It's a lot more quiet now, it's less - complicated. Oh, but there's a weekly house help who pops in for a cup of tea when I'm around, sometimes. I mean, I'm not exactly alone- I've got friends visiting sometimes and- he comes to cook with me at times, and we talk for hours about everything-,"

She broke the gaze and began to eat, and he did likewise.

It was domestic bliss and emotional hell.

He had to fight back the urge to ask her about the man she had mentioned without naming.

Instead, he ate tensely.

Throughout dinner, she spoke of light-hearted things that had no bearing on either of them, and he could sense her nervousness.

When they washed up, he was silent and sullen, and Cagalli was half relieved when it was finally over.

"I'm going to uh-,"She waved her hand airily, trying to find a word or something to do. "Shower."

"Alright." He said calmly, taking the last plate from her and beginning to wipe it with his efficient, but smooth strokes.

She said uncomfortably, "Is it fine if I er- go now?"

He nodded without looking at her, still wiping at the dishes.

And so she stole off, muttering something non-committal to Athrun. Cagalli fetched her towel, stumbling a little as the floor bobbed.

The salt air was even cleaner in the night, and she breathed in deeply, feeling something deep in the pit of her stomach. Out here in the open sea, she felt charged with a vitality she had not felt for so long.

The end of the corridor had a rather pretty bathroom, decorated with plants and mosaic tiles in the patterns of lush fruits and flowers.

She gazed around as she soaked in a soapy, scented tub, wondering where he had gotten this incredible yacht. It was small and not too impressive where bulk was concerned. But every corner was put to good use, and he'd had it furnished beautifully.

Once she'd finished brushing her teeth, setting the mug down with a little clink that made her chuckle, she undressed and slipped into the warm water she'd drawn.

The patterns around her became a blur of happy, contented colours, and she found herself humming, blowing her wet fringe from her eyes and bundling up suspiciously long hair and gazing at the golden ends.

Tropical plants actually lined the sides of the bath, and she gazed at them appreciatively, enjoying the luxuriant foliage, a very quaint but lovely touch to a bathroom on a yacht.

She thought of how she would find a way to survive these three months, and go back to Orb, half dreaming, half forgetting the rest of the dream. The scent of salt and the porpoises and the azure sea would soon melt away, the orange skies and his green eyes boring into hers-

And in the haze of the colours and rose-tinted scents, she leaned back. Her fingertips and toes were like nutmeg, the only wrinkled tips of the warm, fragrantly milky flesh.

She would forget him eventually, if she could return fast enough before anything irreversible happened. If she could run from the people who could affect her life significantly, they would not be able to enter the walls she had built around herself. He was one such person. If she could get away fast enough, he would not be a threat to all that she had built for herself.

She had done it for nearly all her life- she could continue doing it for as long as she lived.

She closed her eyes.

* * *

Kira turned to Britannia's premier, watching the man carefully. James Marlin was staring at a row of photographs Cagalli had arranged on the mantle- pictures of the orphanage children, of her twin and Lacus, pictures of Kisaka and Mana and her father, and one of a woman cradling her babies, a woman who had Cagalli's face and smile.

Kira watched as Marlin picked up that photograph, a small, crumpled one that was lovingly framed. He watched as Marlin's eyes focused on it, then flew towards him. Their eyes met, and then Marlin dropped his gaze.

"Her mother." Kira said simply. "Our mother."

"I see." Marlin said uncomfortable. "I didn't know-,"

Aaron took a seat by the dining table, rubbing his temples and readjusting his glasses. He looked drawn and pale, with dark circles under his eyes and his clothes wrinkled from a few hours of stolen sleep during the travelling time.

Kira assumed his place- at the head of the dining table, Marlin joining them too.

His voice was steady- for Cagalli's sake, it had to be. "Gentlemen, I thank you for your trust in me."

Marlin looked at him sharply. "I'll trust whoever who can bring her back. So you do just that, General. Frankly, I doubt that you can do anything for Orb."

Aaron's eyes flew to Marlin, and his expression was very sober. "Sir, I cannot have you questioning the general's qualifications. He is probably more qualified than you or I to do what is needed. Also, I asked the General to come here to Orb because I know she would have approved of this decision."

Kira held up a hand, ceasing the tension that was beginning to build between both men. "Gentlemen, leave it at that. Premier, your help is absolutely necessary at this juncture. Her government and her people have been swayed by idel talk that she has run away from her duties."

"Cagalli would never do that." Marlin said coldly.

"Like we need you to say that." Aaron countered sniffily. "As if she'd be so selfish as to run from her duties and-,"

"Yes." Kira interrupted. "In any case, we know what Cagalli is like. She would probably choose duty over death. But it is damaging to her reputation with all this talk going about. If people lose their faith in her, Orb will crumble."

"There have always been officials trying to take over the power she inherited." Aaron interjected. "I believe that they have been speculating that she ran away from Orb, to turn the people against their rightful leader. There are plenty of them who want her power. It's been two months since Cagalli disappeared, and the parliament seems like a coalition government without her to unite them all. Even Kisaka's return to Orb hasn't been able to stop all this disunification, and there are too many vested interests within the parliament. The people are suffering from it, but the blame is being shifted to her- that it is her fault, her disappearance that is causing all these problems."

"And that is why," Kira concluded, "We need to reunite the Orb government."

"That is why," Aaron said through gritted teeth, "We need you, Marlin. You were the only man she trusted all these years, other than her twin and Kisaka. You were the only man that came even close to her. And you are the only man who will not take advantage of what we are about to do."

Marlin stared at them, his face pale, made paler by his dark hair.

"I need you to do as I have planned, to follow the scheme that I have set up to quell those rumours that she abandoned her duties and Orb. Similarly, I need you, Kira Yamato, to do as Kisaka and I have proposed. In the worst case scenario-," Aaron's eyes were covered by the hand that rubbed over them, "If she doesn't return for reasons I fear to think about, then the right person will be present to take responsibility."

There was a silence as the three men stared at each other. Behind them, the row of pictures gleamed, pictures of the people that Cagalli loved.

Kira Yamato, one of the generals of the Zaft elite forces, had asked for an extended period of leave. In a week's time, he would be the Supreme Commander Proxy of Orb.

Britannia's Premier, James Marlin, would be known as Cagalli Yula Atha's fiancée in a few days time.

* * *

4 months. 0 days.

* * *

A/N: Hello, dear readers!

Thanks for waiting, especially my lovely reviewers- I had to rework some bits and add in some new scenes I suddenly thought of putting in.

I was also waiting for enough reviews so I could edit and add subsequent reviews. :) Hope you don't mind too much.


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 12

* * *

The figures, Patrick Zala used to claim, told stories.

Perhaps it had been to hone his three-year old son's clear talent for numbers and patterns. Perhaps it had been an initial and one of the few attempts to connect with his child. Perhaps Patrick Zala truly believed that all things, even lives, could be valued with numbers.

Whatever the case, Athrun now thought that Patrick Zala would have been a visionary if he had lived on The Isle.

For Athrun could see those stories now. The reports before him belied massive sums. Those massive numbers told of massive production lines and massive profits that were driving everything else forward. They were all cogs they functioned together.

The new director of the recently-acquired Mithall Steel was a petite, sophisticated woman with a slight Japanese accent. She had also become the head investor through a rather questionable process that nobody had dared to question. In essence, she owned Mithall Steel now.

Of course, she reported to Rune Estragon, so technically, he owned the steel empire now.

There was an arrangement between them. Rune Estragon did not appear personally to oversee his business at all. Instead, the heir of the infamous Kitani legacy would work for him despite her status as one of the most powerful people in the world and even the underworld.

But nothing was without a price, especially not here.

In return for the risks she was taking for Rune Estragon, her child would be safe on The Isle, under his tutelage and protection.

Just two weeks ago, Kitani Harumi had announced an increase in steel production. The figures he looked at now were proof of this. Of course, the thousands of business partners of the steel empire had no problems with this.

After all, most of them benefited from the massive production, and those who did not were not brave enough to speak up against Kitani Harumi.

Kitani Harumi certainly wasn't the average business woman either. She was cold-blooded beyond understanding, brutal and unpredictable. She was undoubtedly useful each time Athrun's patience was tested, and he trusted her to crush the people who resisted. There had been quite a few over the years, but she had never failed him. Or rather, she could not fail him when her son's safety was at stake.

The newest empire that they had acquired together was the Marubeni Oil Corporation.

The whole plan was actually very brilliant in its simplicity- only someone like Lent Mortimer could have come up with it. Because weapons and explosives were made of steel and oil, all that was required was a control of the supply chain.

For the Eyes to crush the weapon-source entirely, they would simply have to crush the raw material sources. The fastest way was to go straight to the suppliers and acquire those. Because the weapons relied on companies that were nearly monopolies of their own markets, it was even simpler to affect the weapon production.

Over the years, Marubeni Oil Corporations had come to own eighty-three percent of the global oil market. Its oil wells were estimated to be in every oil-producing country, and it actually ran the cartel, thanks to Tetsuya Marubeni's connections with mafia from every part of the world. His own niece, of course, had even more connections with the underworld- she had used those against him.

On the other hand, Mithall Steel was the leader of the steel producing corporations, with its market share at ninety percent. It was the closest thing to a monopoly, with consumers being overcharged and the executives getting as many perks as humanely possible.

Of course, Athrun thought, it did not overcharge one key customer.

The Blue Cosmos rolled out model after model of mobile weapons, crate after crate of explosives, and all sorts of stainless-steel gun-cum-bayonets that neither rusted nor weakened even in deep waters.

The Eyes had drawn out a wrecked mobile suit just three years ago from the depths of a particular ocean- it had suffered its fate at the hands of a pilot Athrun knew personally. In fact, he had fought in that very battle himself and seen the sky-blue weapon plunge into its watery grave, its pilot, Auel Neider in it.

Like Atlantis, the wreckage had been drawn out. Unlike Atlantis however, the weapon was mostly intact in the state it had been sent to the ocean in. In the cockpit, Leopold Wasser and Barnett Romia's team had found the remains of the pilot. And under the seat, they'd found Don Mithall's personal logo that normal customers were not aware of.

The supply of the steel was limitless, thanks to the special prices that Mithall Steel pledged to the Blue Cosmos. At one point, Mithall Steel had even supplying steel as a personal favour to Lord Djibril.

All this was possible because Don Mithall, the heir of the Mithall Family, had come from a long line of Blue Cosmos supporters, although he had covered up those roots rather nicely. He was publicly supportive of peace efforts between Coordinators and Naturals, a philanthropist of disabled Natural-children foundations, young, and very dashing. In any case, the Eyes could not risk the secrecy that protected so many things just to haul Don Mithall out. That man was too sly- he knew how to garner support with a global audience and would have turned the world against Plant and The Eyes.

Still, Don Mithall had been rather unimpressive in the end. Tom Edgeworth had been in charge of sending in an informant, and Lucretzia, his first aide, had been assigned the job. She did not take kindly to having Mithall's hands all over her. Nevertheless, she completed her job, and then seen personally to Mithall's torture and death.

Athrun thought of the chamber that Lucretzia had put Mithall in. Forty-eight hours after his capture, Athrun had visited Tom and glimpsed the state of the chamber. The man had bitten his tongue to prevent himself from giving up the password for the key safe. But Lucretzia had gotten it from him anyway- that and his severed tongue.

She had also taken his manhood while coercing Mithall to speak. But as Athrun had observed, she had sewn his eyes open first- punishment for touching her, she had said.

Now, he stared at the figures of Mithall Steel again. They stared back at him, like little ants crawling all over the sugar-white papers.

And Athrun stretched, trying to relieve the crick in his neck, accepting that his productivity had decreased beyond salvage. He gazed at the report again, not really seeing.

All these years, the Eyes had identified and went straight for the raw material suppliers of the Blue Cosmos' weapons. It didn't matter that the Blue Cosmos had been a doomed organisation when the Second War had ended. It didn't matter that the Blue Cosmos was nearly extinct as an organisation, thanks to the international peace efforts.

For as long as this world would exist, there would always be sentiments of hatred that formed other versions of the Blue Cosmos.

He ran a hand through his hair tiredly. His eyes hurt.

And Athrun wondered if the reading-glasses he had in a small case were necessary at this point. Miles Summon had recommended that he use those sparingly, however.

Athrun knew that his eyesight had deteriorated somewhat, from the constant squinting and overwork. But he had never suspected that there would be a day when his slight headaches would lead to a kind of myopia- a Natural's disease, not a Coordinator's. Still, the day had arrived a few years ago, when he had been prescribed reading glasses.

So for the past hour, Athrun had been sitting in his cabin, reading reports that were beyond him at this point, for nothing made sense in his muddled, distracted head. He closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his chair and sighing.

Inevitably, he began to think about Cagalli.

She had been living alone in that big house for all of seven years, a socialite if necessary, a recluse by default.

Cagalli had probably been going to work early in the morning, returning late at night, both by her choice and not by her choice. The circumstances demanded much from her, and she was willing to give all to her work too. She would stretch her weekends into weekdays, meeting people she did not like, and smiling across banquets at people she could not bring herself love.

He understood because he saw himself in her.

And perhaps, she had been repulsed by the party at Rochester's because she saw herself in him too- the way he behaved diplomatically, correctly, politely but coldly.

But he had long accepted this as a means of survival. Cagalli on the other hand, had come to The Isle to realise that she could not quite play this part. And so she had suffered that night.

She seemed so lost, so miserable, at times when she thought that nobody was observing her. Even if he confronted her, she would not admit it, of course. That would have been unthinkable for someone as headstrong as Cagalli. But she was lonely- he could see it in the way she paused before she spoke, the way she had been awkward with talking about herself- all the little things.

But as the chair swung slowly in a rotation, he caught sight of himself in a small mirror at the other end of the cabin.

Rune Estragon was no different from the Orb Princess.

Rune Estragon worked long hours, plotting, scheming like a deceptive spider, smiling at people he wanted for allies, smiling at people he wanted for company, removing himself from those he loved.

If he was attracted to a woman, he studiously ignored the woman, until need overcame him and he found a way to take her and use her until he was ready to discard her.

And even while he fulfilled his needs out of a clear desperation, he dismissed the potential of the relationship by insisting that it was one that was borne out of convenience. For Rune Estragon, relationships were built on only the benefits that he would gain.

His aides had been mere children when he had taken them in. Not by Coordinator standards, obviously.

But to Athrun, Erlich Hoffman had become something of a son to him. And yet, Epstein had become who he was because of Rune Estragon and The Isle- and Athrun could not shake off the strange regret that he had become something of a Patrick Zala figure to Erlich. Even the twins- the twins he had tried so hard to be distant to, had ended up as his children. He couldn't help but love them. But for his aides' sakes, he distanced himself from them.

He had taught them what they needed to survive, but he had made sure that they did not depend on him for emotional support. After all, Rune Estragon could give none.

If a child began to laugh a way into his heart, he made sure that he did not grow too close to the child. No wonder then, that Laplacia was so hungry for love and Cartesia so cold to touch and to look at! No wonder then, that Epstein had become their surrogate father while looking for one in Rune Estragon!

He stared at the mirror- at his mother's eyes. Those disconcerted him. He had never liked his eyes. People always told him that they were his mother's- but Athrun knew better. He knew which line of his parentage he tended towards.

And that was why; Athrun thought soberly, those he loved had left him one by one. He was too much like his father- too caught up in the world to notice that he had left those he loved.

Perhaps Rune Estragon was even more alone than Cagalli had been in that house, that office, that Orb of hers. She had people who understood what she was working for- she believed in the greater cause of what she was working towards.

But he didn't. On this Isle, he didn't.

And that was why he needed her. That was why he wanted her, even at all costs, he suspected.

Here, alone with Cagalli, he was Athrun Zala again- someone who was capable of feeling, and therefore without the ability to be immune to being hurt. Even now, she was making him feel again, but she was hurting him at the same time by denying their feelings for each other. Her half-hearted rejection of him was aggravating, to say the least, since he sensed that she was insincere and even uncertain about her own actions.

But he wanted her all the more.

He needed something to believe in, something that could make him love and live again. The more she evaded him with that childish cowardice she was using as a defence, the more he wanted her. It was that simple.

She was stretching Athrun's patience, and because he had a great deal of it, he was a man who could not tolerate being pushed beyond his limit. Away from the Fifth Isle, he failed to be Rune Estragon. With her, both of them here like this; he did not have it in him to scheme, to trick or force her into loving him. He could not deceive her, because she was different from everyone else.

Suddenly upset and ill at ease, he grabbed a towel, a new set of clothes and headed to the bathroom.

So perhaps Athrun had been too preoccupied to notice the path of light peeking from under the door.

Or perhaps he had long forgotten that Cagalli had the habit of falling asleep in the bathtub.

And while those were probable cases, perhaps he had been too irate to knock to check.

Whatever the case was, he opened the wooden door and came face to face with a very startled Cagalli. She had been in something of a daze, her eyes half-lidded and her expression very sleepy, gold hair long and garlanded with bubbles and foam while it hung over her shoulders.

But all this changed immediately.

"Bloody hell!" She said in terror, something between a squeal and a gasp, and he jumped at the same time.

Thankfully, she submerged herself within two seconds, sliding in deeper, her face frightened and eyes like ochre saucers.

So Athrun had walked in on a very naked Cagalli.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," He said, mortified. It seemed as though he were a cat trying to clear a mothball from its throat.

She gazed towards the door with something like horror, realising that she had left it unlocked. Mistake after mistake- it was a complete malady of them.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror aligning the wall behind her- his eyes looked like giant peas, perfectly round, green and his eye sockets were wrinkled in dismay. It struck him that he was behaving rather out of character. Hadn't he seen her in a partial state of undress before? Hadn't he seen a woman before?

This wasn't really any different, he tried to tell himself- all he had to do was to get out of the grave he had somehow stepped into.

He wracked his brain for a charming, intelligent response.

But nothing came.

Thankfully, Cagalli offered it for them both.

"Look away," She whispered, her voice rusted with shock and embarrassment.

He did not need her telling him that twice.

Slowly, she rose; a Venus from the porcelain oyster of the bathtub, golden hair long and slightly wavy from the water. Fortuitously, her hair had gone untrimmed for so long that it covered most of her chest.

Clumsily, she began reaching for a fluffy Turkish towel, wrapping it securely about herself while his eyes remained intently fascinated on the tiles that depiction of a mosaic fruit bowl on the ground.

The vibrant colours and the thought of what she looked like yanked his memory to the painting that he had seen a long time ago.

But Athrun couldn't help but think that Cagalli could be immortalised by a painting.

Her beauty was best immortalised by being bestowed as a gift to another living, breathing, if equally flawed human.

"Excuse me," She said quietly, shyly even, but with great dignity.

He muttered another apology awkwardly, eyes still cast down as if he had committed a mortal sin.

So she stepped past him, ignoring him. He thought he saw something like scorn in her eyes, although he suspected that this was his own self-directed scorn rather than any from her towards him.

But in that moment, he thought he saw her eyes flickering contemptuously to him, daring him to move, daring him to act. Her golden eyes seemed to be asking if he lacked the guts or propensity to react appropriately to her.

Cagalli might have left without emitting the trail of heady, deliriously sensual rose fragrances that clung onto her hair and skin. She might have avoided him completely and he might have avoided her even more so.

Yet, Cagalli was a little clumsy, and brushed past him a little.

It was probably not on purpose, or a significant contact, but it was more than enough for Athrun to become painfully aware of the compact, ripe body. She wrapped in a barely sufficient, white, gauzy towel. It was as if she was asking him if he dared to respond.

For a brief, almost harrowing moment, he wondered what she would feel like if he pinned her to the ground and demonstrated what a man's dominance over a woman he wanted could be like.

He was beyond the point of reason- beyond the ability to see that she had neither the contempt nor an overt come-hither expression he had imagined on her face.

He only saw every bit of bared skin, even her damp, curling golden hair, as an insult to his manhood, a challenge to him.

Her fingers were tight around the confluence of the towel, the fluffy cloth protective of everything that did not need defending. But he did not see the defences, nor was he aware of her clear reluctance.

All he could see was the tender, white arms folding around her body like wings.

Her golden eyes looked at him, questioning.

She was like a cat that wanted to be stroked and held. But she was also a cat that did not want to let a human near it at the same time. So contrary was his Cagalli.

And in that moment, he understood that she could not help but test his patience. She did not know that she was leading him on, but she did know how to consciously thwart him before she unconsciously led him on again.

So he cracked the code in that second- she did all this because she did not know how to respond to him or herself.

It was then that he knew that he had to be decisive enough for both of them. He could not wait for her to decide any more- she would never be able to.

With a deft, almost curt movement, Athrun blocked her path, and he watched her eyes dart nervously to the navy of the sky behind him, where the open door was. The breeze blew in, making her shiver, and he wondered how sensitive her skin was. He wanted to shred her from the shell of her towel, to touch her and see her tremble for himself.

The salt air was crisp and the ceiling glimmered with the gold lights and jewel colours of enamel paints. He was quite aware of their surroundings, but it would suffice. Anything would suffice as long as it could fulfil the rush of heat and urgency to his loins.

He would pull her to him, pull her into the bath if need be; to possess her and allow himself to be possessed by her. He would make her understand the impact she had on him, once and for all.

He looked at her intently, and he knew that she sensed the change in them, and her eyes glazed over in a mistrustful shade of amber.

He could see that she had reverted completely into an unresponsive, sullen shell then, purposefully unaware of his intentions. She had probably acted this way with other men.

Naturally, if she acted this way, most men would have left her alone. Nobody would touch the Orb Princess when she made it clear that heads would roll if anyone tried any funny business. More discouraging to men's advances was the fact that she appeared different from other women. Other women were vulnerable to the notion of love- most of them were in love with love itself, but not Cagalli Yula Atha.

But he couldn't resist pursuing her- not when he knew that her reluctance was only a pretence and the default of her defences. It whetted his appetite like vinegar- if he could unlock her; find her, he would be fulfilled for a very long time.

Her voice broke the tension.

"Athrun," Cagalli said in a very small voice, "What are you doing?"

They stared at each other, tense with mistrust, uncertainty and even sexual frustration. They knew what they both wanted; what they both needed to be completed for once.

Yet, she steadfastly refused to admit it, even to herself, and she now looked at him with a numb mutiny that angered him.

"Isn't it obvious?" He said bitingly. "Isn't it clear what I'm going to do for both our sakes?"

Cagalli took a step back and then another, suddenly a cowering, cornered cat, no longer indifferent to him.

Athrun felt a shock of lust cloud his mind as he watched her. That small sign of cracking hinted of her ability, willingness even, to be dominated.

She would be a passionate lover, he suspected, alternating between someone who demanded and gave as generously, a lover as unpredictable as the tides. And he would enjoy taking his turn to react accordingly to her. This submissiveness she displayed now was enough of a signal for him to be demanding, to make decisions for both of them.

Reaching a hand out and watching her flinch, however, made him slightly more aware of her vulnerability.

A piercing jolt of despair ebbed into him as he watched her move as if he had threatened to hit her. He could not force her into this. At least, he could not bear to; not when she had a single doubt left about him, no matter how small it was.

"Look at me." He said intently, his body still blocking the doorway. "I won't hurt you."

She gave a forced little laugh, drawing the towel tighter around herself, her eyes wary. "Do I look like I'm afraid of you? I may not trust you, but am I to be afraid of you as well?"

Her limbs were fair from not seeing the sun, although their previously peachy tone had taken on a milkier texture for it. Her cheeks and lips were pink from her embarrassment and shyness, and she looked lovely with her golden hair long and cascading.

The towel was rather insufficient for her, he thought distractedly. Although Cagalli had wrapped it around herself and had secured it with her hands, she was immobilised thus, and technically even more vulnerable to what he could do with his unoccupied hands.

But now, Athrun had lost all desire to take her, and he was suddenly immune to her.

Her breasts swelled beneath the towel, just slightly as she tried to swat the bubbles out of her hair. There was only a hint of the promise her body held, the rest covered by her towel, but her body's lushness was increasingly obvious.

He would have liked to undo the towel, let it fall away, and run his hands over her damp, moist flesh, feel her tremble under his palms and mouth.

But it was no good. Nothing was any good now.

Athrun forced his eyes to focus on her face. Thankfully she did not notice what he had been distracted by.

Cagalli began to sneak past him even thought they were inches apart and nothing about his posture suggested that he was going to let her leave.

"Are you done fooling around?" Cagalli said haltingly, in a show of bravado with a weak smile.

Athrun steadfastly ignored her question.

His eyes were serious, and his mouth in a tight line. "Don't test my patience, Cagalli. We've been playing cat and mouse for far too long."

She turned very red, and then, forced out her words. Those came in a rapid gunfire of feeling, more than she had expected to hear from herself. Cagalli was always unpredictable when she was forced into a corner- and he had done this in more ways than one.

"For Pete's sake, Athrun, I can't discuss issues like that when I'm not half decent while you stand barring my way!"

He looked at her candidly. "It's precisely because you're like this now that we can discuss these issues."

Rattled, she drew in a deep breath. "For the last time, Athrun, I don't want to be a link in your mile-long chain. I don't know who or how many women you took on this yacht as part of your trophy cupboard, but that cupboard won't include me. Even if I might be attracted to you, I don't have the time to be fooling around with you."

"I'm not fooling around," Athrun said mildly, without any clear sign of emotion.

She understood, with a pang, that he had retreated into his own brand of defence- he had always chosen to cut off any sign of human emotion when he felt vulnerable. Some things didn't change.

"I didn't bring you on this yacht for a one-night stand." He said soberly. "I have never done anything like that. Also, I wouldn't have brought you away from The Isle if you hadn't asked me to."

"But you did!" Cagalli spat.

"Do you know why?" He asked abruptly.

How many rules had he broken, how many dangers had he put himself in by acceding to her request?

"Only because I agreed to be your puppet for a night at Rochester's circus?" She said hatefully.

"Only because I wanted you to trust me." He said cuttingly.

He had done all this because he wanted her to trust him, to understand him. He had hoped that she would open up to him, that she would grow to accept him.

"Trust?" Her voice was a whiny of incredulity and purposeful disdain. "What's the use of trust- my trust in you leads to nothing while I am a captive here and-,"

"Because I wanted to love me in return." Athrun said, cutting her off swiftly. He took a step forward, not caring who they were anymore, not caring about their states.

And in that moment, he had enclosed her to him, holding her tight, one hand buried in that mass of gold, pressing her head towards his shoulder, as if he had suffered an injury, as if she was the salve.

She stared, stunned. But then she closed her eyes tightly, as if he had struck her, and she shook her head mutely against him, unable to loose herself in the warmth of his arms. For their sakes, she could not.

Suddenly more hurt than he had felt in his life, he let go of her, stepping back.

His eyes lingered on her legs, moving upwards to her tightened hands, and her white face. "That's what I thought. You're a coward, aren't you, Cagalli? You say that you're unable to trust me, that you're afraid of me. But you aren't. You're only afraid of yourself, and you can't trust yourself either. You keep avoiding what we've always been running from. And that's why I won't waste my time with you any longer."

Cagalli tried to laugh, wanting to spurn him completely, to reject him completely before she was lost in his gaze. "That's not true, I-,"

"Just get out." He concluded, with such superb calm and control that she became intensely aware of how childishly she had behaved.

His eyes lingered on her face with disdain, and like Eve, she was suddenly ashamed of everything about herself. She was being cast out of the room and his presence, his concern and his life.

But why did it matter anyway?

The mosaic fruits and flowers seemed to mock her now, and she cast her eyes on the left wall and saw white blossoms and an enamel motif of apples.

What was the greater sin? To love him and ruin them both with a passion they were capable of giving but not controlling, or to deny her feelings for him and save him from suffering with her?

She felt something tighten in her, and not daring to look back, she ran from the bathroom, locking herself in her room, and gasping great sobs, fighting back her tears.

* * *

Some hundred miles away, Sheba Velasco was applying lipstick, poised like a panther, against her mirror. Her room was not very grand, although her stronghold on the Sixth Isle was as large as the Fifth's.

She had a few luxuries, however. A portrait of two people gleamed at her, their smiles bright and very happy. She had been very young then. There was a spray of lily of the valley in crystal glasses, framing the vanity. Those had been meant as her wedding flowers, although they were only good as room decorations now.

Behind her, Tom was whining and wheedling. "Tell me! Tell me!"

The tea she'd brought out for him was ignored in the living room. He had trailed her all the way here, and now, she thoroughly regretted letting him into her house. What if someone saw them together? What if someone realised that they were somehow connected?

She lined her lips carefully, accentuating their shapes, and then turned around, her eyes narrowing. Her hair was dyed black, tied into a severe knot, with shades she would wear later. Her eyebrows and eyelashes had been dyed the same jet color, and she looked like a gypsy with her colouring now.

Sheba knew she was unrecognisable- but that was the point.

She was wearing a man's suit. There was a badge and tie that came with it, although those lay on the dresser for now. The palace had its uniform and it provided her a rather good disguise.

Tom was begging like a child, and her lip curled viciously.

"So when you called me and told me you wanted to do some research, this was it? You barging in here, whining like a spoilt brat, asking me what the Fifth Eye's past is all about?"

From where he sat, Tom looked like a teenager, not an adult. His legs were crossed on her bed, his shoes lying haphazardly on the floor, the laces of his boots like listless worms. His one eye looked at her, an electric blue that seemed to whiz everywhere, a petulant expression formed by his mouth.

She frowned. "I'm not your mother who's supposed to tell you bedtime stories. Why don't you hurry along outside to play so I can get to my job?"

"But you're almost done," Tom grumbled, hopping off the bed and bounding behind her, pointing at her reflection. "Nobody suspects that you're not the Swedish palace's top security official. Tell me what you know about the Fifth Eye."

She looked even more severe. "I don't know anything."

"I know you do!" He said sulkily, although there was something frightening about the way his face whitened and his one good eye looked fiercely at her. "Tell me, Sheba. Tell me about what happened five years ago when Rune wanted to leave The Fifth Isle. Tell me why Rune's been so obsessed with everything that's been happening lately- why he's giving the Orb Princess so much berth."

She surveyed him for a minute, her arms crossed, her nails perfectly polished and her heel tapping rhythmically against the floor of her bedroom.

He had followed her all the way in here, like a puppy begging for a snack, for some response, any response, and she had ignored him this whole while. He wasn't worth her time- not when she needed to get to work, anyway.

Sheba was in a decidedly bad mood. She did not like leaving this place, her one sanctuary. But she had no choice as the Sixth Eye. And perhaps, she thought wearily, it was better to be always on the move. Staying here evoked memories she wanted to lay to rest.

"If I tell you what you want to know, will you bugger off?" She said finally.

His expression changed to one of boyish happiness, and eagerly, he nodded.

"Okay," She relented. "What do you want to know?"

He didn't bother skirting around the issue. "First, I want to know why Athrun Zala agreed to become an Eye!"

She paused.

"I can't help you there." She said evenly.

"What?" He cried. "But you said you'd tell me! I'm not going to leave until I hear it."

She lost her patience with him and snapped, more than a head taller than him, a towering, disdainful presence. "Use your common sense, Tom! I can't tell you because I don't even know why myself!"

"Okay," He said embarrassedly.

His excitement was making him act like a child, she decided. If he acted like this on a daily basis, then Plant was mistaken in bringing him here to be an Eye. The Eyes were people who had to be responsible for more than their own lives. Surely, the Plant High Council wouldn't have made the mistake of bringing a brat to be in charge of an Isle- not when so many lives were at stake.

"Then," Tom suggested, "Can you tell me what connection the Fifth Eye has to the Orb Princess?"

She frowned. Then she began to walk out of her bedroom, Tom at her heels once more. She settled down in a couch, and he stood before her, visibly excited.

"He was her bodyguard once." Sheba told him. She looked disdainfully at him.

"I didn't know that!" He said in amazement.

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously, he used a different name, a name that only Orb registered. You've probably searched for the name 'Athrun Zala' before and found nothing written there."

He slumped down into a chair, rubbing his temple with his hand. "I didn't think of that- you're good, Sheba, real good."

"Will you leave now?" She said snappishly. She wasn't in a mood to converse with Tom, not when she was due to leave her Isle and be on her guard for a whole three weeks in that damned place. She wasn't even sure she could guarantee her life, and her he was, bothering her to death on things he didn't have to know about.

"Just a bit more." Tom looked slyly at her. Do you think he developed feelings for her while he was her bodyguard?"

She bit back a swear word, still holding her compact and the eyeliner. And she reached for the tissue, working to change the shape of her eyes again.

Concentrating and stalling for time, she cleaned off the stray stroke on her eyelid.

The contacts she wore made her eyes an ordinary brown shade, and she had altered her eye-shape with a very specialised cosmetic. Once she applied the final layer that cemented everything, nobody would recognise her.

When she had finished, she stared at Tom, wondering who had planted that notion into his head.

It was then that she saw a solemnity in Tom's good-looking, rather unreliable face, something that she had never noticed. It surprised her, because Sheba was very good at remembering faces and replicating them after the first encounter.

She saw that his face had changed- the expression on it made him seem less piquant, more determined.

"I don't know whether he developed feelings for her at that point." Sheba said vaguely. "Maybe. It's quite possible. But Tom-,"

"Yes?" He bent forward eagerly.

She made up her mind there and then. It was best to throw the Seventh Eye off the track- it was for Tom's own good. He had no right barging into things that could hurt others and himself.

"It wasn't that he gained feelings for her." Sheba told him. "It was the other way around. The Orb Princess gained feelings for him that are still there up until now. Perhaps you've already noticed that he has made use of her a few times- such as the recent mission with Mullin's suitcase. The Fifth Eye has been using her as a pawn all this while- he is incapable of emotional attachment, you know that yourself. All of us are incapable of that. That's why we were brought here. So back off and let him do his job- he needs to concentrate on his tasks, just as we all need to do for ours."

"Oh." Tom said slowly. "So I was mistaken?"

There was doubt in his expression. He trusted his instincts too much, this boy. She would have to convince him.

"Yes." Sheba said firmly, wondering how many lies she had made in the last few minutes. "And you keep all this to yourself. I don't want anyone knowing about this."

"I bet Lent knows about this."

She frowned. "I don't know about the Second Eye."

There, another lie.

"But the point is, you keep your jabber shut."

"Yes, ma'am." He said dutifully, with a trace of mocking in his smile.

"Seriously," She said coldly. "I don't know why you want to go sniffing around into all this. I know people tend to hero-worship Athrun Zala, and you're one of them, but you don't have to know everything about him. I'm sure he'd respect some privacy."

"But I'm his friend," Tom insisted, "I want to know. Then maybe I'll know why-,"

His expression turned very wistful, "Why he acts the way he does."

Sheba felt something in her soften. This boy was really something. He was petulant and he irritated her, but he was innocent and he liked people genuinely.

"I know you know something, Sheba." He said firmly. "You don't say very much. You've never been the same either, since five years ago. But I know you and Lent care about him too. I do. I want to know. I want to help him too."

She turned away, fetching her blazer and tie. She adjusted those on, looking at him from his reflection in the mirror.

Another person looked back at her. This woman had a dusky complexion, a slim, dark-haired woman with very ordinary features. A pair of dark-rimmed glasses made her look entirely different from her usual self. The Eyes were all actors at the end of the day, she thought soberly. Nothing less, nothing more.

"Sometimes, Tom," She said gently. "If you want to help him, you must pretend that he is the person he is pretending to be."

* * *

That night, she stole out to the deck to bathe in the pool and silver light.

She assumed that it would do her some good.

Immersing herself into some kind of activity always took her mind off the grieving pain she suffered from.

Of course, the suffering had been there for a long time- the difference was that the Isle and Athrun Zala was making her aware of it.

To distract herself, she would have to find something to occupy herself. If Cagalli had been in Orb, in her house, she would have hauled herself to the room where she kept the work files in. But here, she didn't have that option.

She found the night to be slightly humid and peeled off her pyjamas. But her previous swimsuit was hanging, still wet over the chair outside the other side of the deck.

So Cagalli was forced to settle for a tank top and a bikini bottom, ignoring the top piece of the latter. It wasn't purely for modesty- she did not favour clothes that she felt she did not do justice to. But Cagalli did not realise that any person with a less than a complete sense of sight would have looked at the swimsuit top, looked at her, and disagreed with her general insecurity.

Even now, she wrapped a towel around herself, covering her midriff and her thighs, shy even though there was technically nothing to be afraid of.

It didn't matter; she told herself firmly, that she was wearing a mismatched bottom and a tank top to the pool, for lack of better options.

After all, nobody was actually going to see her, except the moon and a few fish. Or maybe one of the curious porpoises who didn't need their sleep, and-

Fuck.

Athrun was already there, swimming and cutting though the water cleanly with his arms white and shining as mercury did, like an albino fish.

He was swimming fast, a machine, but there was a fury about the way he was slashing into the water, a mad energy that seemed to want to spend itself out.

She stood behind the pillar, peeking at him.

From that little hiding corner, Cagalli saw that Athrun Zala had a beauty that surpassed the parameters of gender and the equality of distribution.

Of course, Cagalli had always been aware of how nonsensical, how almost errant it was to look at a man like Patrick Zala's son in a manner Hades would have done with Persephone- that mixture of awe, wonder and desire. But now, she was even more aware of the foible of being attracted to Athrun Zala.

For one, Athrun was unpredictable and she knew very little of him after he had vanished seven years ago. Watching him like this gave her very little understanding of the facts, even if her instincts and senses were now attuned to Athrun.

Besides, an already complicated relationship didn't need the addition of Stockholm's Syndrome. Cagalli reassured herself firmly that she would be back in Orb very soon if she played her cards correctly.

It wouldn't do to become dependent on somebody she would leave behind.

Moreover, Athrun Zala was beyond her.

She could choose to hold him. She could do as he said he wanted to and let him learn her, know her. But she could not. She didn't dare to.

Nevertheless, she had taken a gamble the other time. But he hadn't let her. He had seen through her at the very last minute and had pushed her away, aware that she was not going to let him hold her as Cagalli Yula Atha.

She thought about Rune Estragon. He was harsh, even cruel as her captor. But he was beautiful too, and he could be astonishingly gentle- those glimpses of Athrun Zala made her even more attracted to him.

It was tempting to go along with his promises that she would be returned, safely and unharmed, to Orb once the six months were over.

Cagalli knew she had to refuse him and ignore his promises to let her go eventually. He was only lying to her- he was not to be trusted, no matter how he appeared at times, or how attracted she was to him.

Yet, she wanted to know who he was, what he was doing here, why he was doing all this. She couldn't leave without knowing everything about him first. And similarly, she had to know all this in order to leave.

Cagalli bit her lips, realising suddenly, that the night at Rochester's had been proof of her dilemma, except that she had neither realised nor recognised it.

Now, she understood why she had felt so troubled about Athrun.

Returning to Orb would mean that in time to come, she would be as Orb wanted, setting aside time, finding a suitable mate and consummating an entire marriage regardless of her own plans. But frustratingly, she did not have other plans beyond doing what she could for Orb. She wanted to govern Orb for as long as she could- but she did not want anyone else involved with her task, certainly not a political pawn of a husband.

She studied him as he made a sharp turn at the end of the pool. He wouldn't be a political pawn, this man. He could never be one.

She put a hand to her own lips, thinking of his face. His mouth fascinated her. It was thin and softly fluted, beautiful and expressive if he allowed, but slightly wry and cruel. Had his father put that in him? His mouth was always slightly sad even when it was smiling, but it could be passionate, demanding and gentle all the same when he kissed her.

His eyes were something stranger.

They were unreadable because there was either everything or nothing at all.

He had looked that way that night when he had pushed her away- rejected her.

Perhaps, Athrun had understood more than she would ever of herself.

That night at Rochester's, Cagalli had actually tried to destroy herself without fully understanding what she was doing. She had chosen him to stage her own unconscious self-destruction, although neither of them were entirely aware of this.

In the depths of her, she had locked away the consciousness of her freedomless existence. But she had not been able to ignore that reality for that night. The women around her at the party were free to love and live without consequence, living as they wanted to even if a general society frowned on them. She however, could not.

Orb was placing a high price on her with the non-verbalised expectations that Cagalli Yula Atha would be untouched until her wedding night, a vestal virgin to be sold, bound to a man who would probably make Orb a lot richer and more powerful.

If she lost her virginity in some careless fling, like the thousands of women who were not as privileged as her, but free to live as they wanted, if she lost it all without Orb and her future husband actually knowing-

If she lost the virginity that Orb was counting on in a temporary, solely physical relationship, if she lost it to Athrun Zala- it would be the most potent form of revenge on everything around her.

After all, self-destruction had seemed to be a small price when she wasn't even sober and not self-aware enough to know what she was doing.

But now, she was sober enough to realise that it would be fitting, ironically apt if she gave Athrun her virginity before she left for Orb. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would put an end to the past, once and for all.

Of course, it helped that she was probably still physically and emotionally attracted to him as well.

Alone here like this, behind a pillar, watching him, she had to admit it to herself. A fling with any other man would have served her fantasies of living without fear of any consequence. But it had still been unthinkable to throw herself at any male who walked by just for the sake of quenching the anger and spirit that she had denied for so long.

A fling with Athrun Zala, however, would be something different. It would be more than the fantasy of living selfishly, for herself and for nobody else.

She was both repulsed and attracted to someone with so clear an affinity for bloodshed. He provided her with a thrilling kind of danger, someone who would be a threat to her way of living, someone who she had been prepared to forgo and forget.

Maybe she wanted that. She wanted him.

But he had rejected her- he had been the first man who had ever rejected her because he was the only man she had ever wanted.

Cagalli shook her head, trying to clear it to no avail.

Well, that was that.

A sense of self-disgust filled her. How childish it was, she reflected, trying to take revenge on something that was more powerful than she would ever be. If anyone in Orb ever found out that she had thrown herself at a man, they would see her as selfish.

How selfish it was to want to self-destruct in such a wanton, careless manner when she had yet to die for Orb!

Cagalli rubbed her face with her hand tiredly. She had to fight against her circumstances even if there was that temptation to give in and use this time to learn more about him. If she stopped fighting against him and The Isle, if she let him near her, she would end up falling for him even more deeply than she ever had. And if

In any case, she had to get back to Orb. She would decide what to do after she got back to Orb. With any luck, the country would be so busy dealing with the aftermath of her kidnapping and the blow to the international relations that they would forget about her twenty-sixth birthday.

And Cagalli turned to leave. Discreetly, she moved out into the moonlight. This was not by choice, but only because the moon had risen even higher.

She pattered from behind the pillars, trying to get back to the rooms below the deck. But suddenly and for no reason at all, she realised that the sound of his body moving through the water had paused for quite some time, and she turned around and saw that he was looking right at her.

Startled, she dropped the towel she had draped around her shoulders, and took a step back, stubbing her heel against a pool chair, cursing loudly and colourfully.

Her voice seemed to break the silence and periodic lapses of the waves. Even the crickets seemed to pause.

He said nothing, half-submerged in the water.

"Uh," She said meekly and evasively, picking up her towel and holding it around her shoulders. She wiggled her toes, trying to dissipate the pain. Inwardly, she was cursing again.

How undignified to have stubbed her heel- and how unfetching it was for her to be like this, a deer caught in the headlights, in front of someone like him!

He swam to the end she was at and looked at her unsmilingly.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. He had a kind of anger in his face that was controlled, contemplative and very cold.

Cagalli fought back a defensive retort, not wiggling her toes anymore. "I was thinking of swimming."

He said nothing.

"Obviously," She said, finally using the defensive tone she had intended. The moon illuminated her bare arms, neck and midriff.

His eyes regarded her cynically, although he knew he had felt an unmistakeable flush of heat to his head and loins at the sight of her. "Go ahead."

He began to pull himself out of the pool, eager to get away from someone who he could not trust himself to behave around.

It wasn't fair, he thought in agony. It wasn't fair that if he had wanted another woman, he would have taken her without any consideration of anything but their physical needs.

It wasn't fair that he wanted only her, and that she was the only one he would never be able to have.

With Cagalli, he was thwarted by her and his own reservations, made impotent by the very feelings for the woman before him. So it was better this way. If she would stay away, if he could stay away, it would be easier.

But she had to ruin it all.

For Cagalli knelt and caught hold of his arm with her two shaking hands as he sat on the ledge, his legs still in the water. His arm was wet and cold, but waxy like a lily's petals, dotted with water and very pure under the white light.

She saw then, that Athrun had never lost a kind of purity even if his innocence had been tarnished. Under the darkness and cover of enigma was still a core that was a liquid, shining-white silver. Everything he wore, that mantle of cruelty and hardness, did not change his nature as something that was pure and good.

Cagalli looked into his eyes and felt her resolve crumble.

Good god. She wanted him to love her even though she could not afford to love him. The extent of her hypocrisy made her flinch.

"Don't go." Cagalli said uncomfortably. "There's no need to avoid me. Just because we shouldn't get any closer doesn't mean that we have to be enemies."

Athrun looked at her. He felt something jagged warming and become softer and more accepting. He felt his resolution to let her go melt into the indigo sky as her hair blew in the wind.

Why did she have to do this? Why did she have to draw him to her, push him away, and just before he could swear off her, take him close to her side and lead him on again?

He should have pushed her away, gone away, and done anything but become even more besotted with her. And yet, how could he forgo the chance of being near her?

She seemed to be incandescent, glowing and luminous in the chilly blue darkness and small orange lights around the deck.

The tantalising glimpse of her breasts was now maddeningly clear in that cerulean coloured tank top of hers. Her bottom was mismatched, but it revealed her thighs, and he could see how slender and soft her midriff was. Despite the loping, boyishness she had unconsciously cultivated, the natural buoyancy and lushness of her body was undeniable.

He had noticed this the first time he had met her- how she seemed to be a walking contradiction. She had fascinated him even then; this child-woman who had the ways of a boy, the heart and strength of a man, but a creature that was feminine, soft and lovely.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Cagalli said, rather awkwardly. And she added lamely, "We can still be friends. Even if we can't be as we used to-,"

She found no strength to continue, blushing furiously at her lies. She knew that she was lying to them both. She was still trying to deny everything, and he felt something stir despite his resolve to ignore her.

All he could think of was the pounding of the blood into his head and the last time he had had a woman.

Three, no, nearly four years, without having a woman, becoming more and more disconnected with what it meant to be human. How could he stay still now and remain unmoved by her?

Slowly, knowing that he did not have to rush her, that she could not refuse him anymore, Athrun took her two hands away from his arm and placed them on his shoulders. And gently, he eased them both into the water once more, pulling her in with him, unravelling the towel around her body as she sank in.

Still holding her, he moved the soaked cloth aside, shifting it away from the pool's edge.

"That's not enough now, being friends," Athrun said steadily. "It was never enough."

She shivered at how dangerous his voice was, quiet and not to be disobeyed. It was strange to hear this from him, though he had never hid this aspect of him from her since she had been brought to The Isle.

In fact, Cagalli had never thought of him sexually in the past. He seemed incapable of flirting or being jealous, passionate or possessive because he was too mature, too incorruptible and too gentlemanly. He was always proper, if a little stiff.

It had never occurred to her that those qualities were not mutually exclusive from what he was- a man.

She had seen him as little more than a child all this while. In her eyes, Athrun was a child that was innocent and untouchable, almost immortal in his purity and his ability to change her, and she had loved him.

She had fallen in love with him quite quickly and quite fatally in the way that mothers often experienced with their newborn children. She'd seen him weep for Kira, broken and wounded by the world. And Cagalli had awoken to those new feelings, although she had interpreted them as the protectiveness of friendship, comradeship even. She'd wanted to protect him then, in the same way she had felt for Kira.

The first time they had kissed, they'd blushed furiously. They had done little more than that even after she had become engaged to him. But that was only because he had never made a clear move- he was too proper to want to flirt and become overtly physical in their relationship, and she had never quite thought of him as a _man_.

No wonder she had been so uncomfortable with him when she had been brought to The Isle. Granted, it was a shock seeing him again and coming to terms with her captivity.

But Athrun as a man, a man that could not be refused or coerced, a man who _wanted_ her and was direct about it, was a very new and uncomfortable notion to Cagalli.

There was something possessive and primitive, jealous even, in the way he looked at her, the way he spoke and held her. The only hint of this had been the moment when he had slipped a ring onto her finger, looking away, blushing, unable to verbalise what it was that he wanted of her.

Had this primacy, this need for possession always been there? Or had she denied it in the past, ignored it until she had become a captive here and had been forced to acknowledge it?

And had Athrun become aware of her lack of preparedness before she had been aware of it herself? Had Athrun realised during these seven years, that she had never been fully prepared to have him as a husband, and that she had seen him as little more than a boy? And was it fair that she judged what they both felt now by the standards of what she had felt for him then?

Cagalli had no time to consider this.

For Athrun began to press her against the wall of the swimming pool, trailing his mouth roughly, hard against hers, bruising her lips in his eagerness. And his mouth was tracing a route down her jaw as he began kissing and biting her neck demandingly.

A strange, piercing pleasure erupted in her, and she felt him bite her earlobe a little, still touching her. And the sensation of his touch multiplied into an agonising, addictive need.

He wasn't content with conquering her mouth- he stroked her shoulders, wrapping his arms around those with a careful gentleness that hinted of a passion, a passion with intensities he would be eventually unable to control.

She murmured something he could not decode, not quite responding with his fervour. But he was inflamed by the sensation of her small body and her soft, abundant chest pressed against his harder one.

Unable to resist, he reached to her and caressed a soft, full breast, feeling her heart beat under it. She blushed adorably, breaking the kiss and lowering her head until he lifted it to resume the possession of her mouth, his hand still defiant on her, not being rough or teasing but insistent and searching. There was something powerful, evocative even, about his action. He was not asking for approval and trying to elicit a response.

He had done that such a long time ago- when he had asked her to kiss him like she meant it. Only now did she understand how he had forced them on this path from such a long time ago.

Now, he was proving his ownership of her.

And that was all he needed to do.

Abruptly, he separated them and her eyes flew to his. He saw that they were frightened and flecked with brown.

Athrun gazed at her, his expression unreadable. "Why are you afraid of me?"

Cagalli's eyes remained fixed on the orange light at the far end of the pool. "I'm not afraid! I'm just-, I- I don't know. Things have changed. I can't quite remember what I felt for you then."

His voice was quiet, filled with intent. "But I don't need you to remember what our relationship was like in the past. What I need is the present."

Her voice, in contrast, was troubled. "We're both different people, Athrun. I can't trust you any more than I can trust myself. You know we're physically attracted to one another, more than we've ever been in the past. We can't help that, and I can't deny it anymore. But I can't let myself trust you."

"I can't tell you everything." He in a low voice, thinking that she was referring to the secrets he kept from her. "But you should know this. I brought you here without planning to be anything except Rune Estragon. I didn't bring you here by my own choice- I never wanted to bring you here. But I did. And I have long given up on wanting to be a mere captor."

She shook her head miserably, silencing him with a finger she pressed to his lips. It wasn't that she deserved his secrets. It was that she could not give her secrets to him even when he deserved it. She drew in a deep breath.

"I'm afraid of what I'm about to do." Cagalli said sombrely. "But if I don't tell you this now, we'll go on like this, neither here nor there. I can't do that."

He looked at her and saw that she was trembling. Gently, he took her hand from his lips and held it to him, near his heart.

"I'm the Princess of Orb, not just an Emir now, and I wield more power than any other person on the earth itself. By myself, I'm as powerful as the entire Earth Alliance council." Cagalli said shakily. "And my people can know this. Things have changed since you were gone. The map's been redrawn in Orb's favour, because of everything I've done for it. There have been Earth Alliance territories ceded to Orb while you were gone. Under me, Orb's seen more economic growth than any other country or territory in the last twenty years. Under me, Orb's become more of a superpower than the Earth Alliance itself!"

He stared at her. He knew all this- but he sensed that she was admitting this to herself, not him.

"Do you understand? I'm more accountable for all the people in Orb and its colonies than ever. They are counting on me to lead them, and I have to. I'd go mad if I didn't try and find redemption for my father's death. And that's why I need that power, that respectability and trust from my people."

"I didn't love you for that power and the name you inherited from your father," Athrun said firmly. "I loved you for anything but that. Don't you see, Cagalli? That's the beauty of it all. On The Isle, you're not the Orb Princess any more. Orb loves you as worshippers of an idol, a kind of goddess. But you're a human- you were made fallible, and I loved you for that!"

"Don't say anymore." She said desperately. "The only thing that matters is that I live and die for Orb. If my people look up to me that way, then so be it. If they need me that way, it's good enough for me. It's better than what I expected."

"I'm not going to argue over the fact that you have obligations to people beyond yourself. "Athrun told her. "But you don't while you're here- not for the remainder of the six months anyway. And even after that, you don't have obligations to your father. You didn't cause his death directly- he chose to die for Orb himself."

Cagalli shivered. "I'm expected to do the same, no; I want to do the same. And that's why I need to leave- I have to return to a place I know the rules to, a game that I can win. I need to return and forget everything to function properly again."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She had never said this to him before. Granted, he had suspected it all along, but she was actually confessing this to him. When he spoke, his voice was cold, frustrated, and his eyes had become a dark-coloured sea.

"Here on The Isle, there's little to prevent us from falling in love again, even more deeply than before." Athrun looked guardedly at her. "Isn't that true? Away from everything, you'll begin to think for yourself. Here, you'll make decisions that might cost you everything you thought correct. You believe that you are only of use where Orb is concerned. That's why Orb became so important to you. It was your own cage."

"But I know how to live in that cage." Cagalli said brokenly. "I'll be safe there."

Athrun pressed her hand closer to his heart. "But you used that cage to alienate yourself from the past and anyone who you might have had feelings for. That cage doesn't keep the world from hurting you. It's hurting you by keeping the world out. That's why I want you here with me- my cage isn't keeping the world out for you. It's giving you the world."

"This is all a mistake," She said wearily, bringing her hand away. The more she felt his heart beat, the more torn she was becoming between staying and insisting on leaving. "Nothing makes sense here. I need to return to Orb. Even if Orb is a cage, I won't be able to live anywhere outside it. Please. Let me go."

"I won't let you go." Athrun said curtly. "At first, I thought your desperation to leave The Isle came from the implications of the Orb Princess being kidnapped while in Scandinavia. I wondered if your extreme attempts to escape came from trying to prevent a political catastrophe and the instinct to preserve your life. But then, I suspected that you were so desperate to leave because you were afraid to leave everything you knew and had become used to."

Cagalli felt his hands cupping her waist as he looked directly at her. He took her hand to his heart once more, and she realised that she had no say in any matter.

"I can't let you go until it is time to." He said in a very soft voice, so quiet that she almost couldn't hear him. "I don't even have a say in this- there are people beyond me who will not let you leave The Isle. But even if the decision rested solely with me, I wouldn't let you go. Even if you were allowed to leave tomorrow, I would need you here with me. If you're with me, if you let me love you, I can find myself again."

"No," Cagalli begged, afraid to hear anymore, afraid that she would want to stay, to be needed by him.

"I can't stay here any longer. Not even for the remainder of the six months. Orb needs me. It's dangerous here."

"Not if you stay in the manor." He said tightly.

"But I want to be free," Cagalli cried in frustration.

He shook his head. "You're lying to both of us again. You haven't been free all this time. You've been working for a person who doesn't even exist anymore. Orb isn't your father, Cagalli. You've been locked in your office and your house, your mind all this while. Is there any difference with the room in my manor?"

She tried to say something, but found that he was correct.

"Stay with me," Athrun said softly, persuasively, "If you don't want to stay in that room, you won't have to from now on. I'll find a way- I'll let you roam the manor if you want. We'll be together from now on. We'll discover what we left behind all over again."

"It's madness." Cagalli said intently, afraid of how her heart had beat against her for that moment. "It was all in the past. If we repeat the past now, it would be even more insane."

"But there isn't any other way." He said, just as strongly. Their eyes met and they engaged in a silent battle of wills.

"You're assuming that I still love you as I once did." She said tensely. "And that you love me the way you once did."

"Don't you?" Athrun said gently, insistently. There was no bravado that other men might have asserted this with. There was only a quiet pain and inevitability in his eyes. "Didn't you know that I've loved you ever since I saw you?"

He looked at with a sad, wry smile. "Do you know how obsessed I became with the girl I'd met on the island? And we'd only met once. I watched you fire a gun and lose your resolve at the same time. I began to question the beliefs that I had been raised to believe in. All because I met you."

She saw, quite suddenly, that his shoulders had white scars on them, like claws had raked themselves into the flesh. It was only that his skin was so white that those were difficult to see. Her hand over his heart curled inwards, into a fist, unable to accept that she had left some kind of scar on him as well.

"I read what my father wanted me to read as a child," Athrun said morosely. "I read 'Franny and Zooey' until I could recite the book backwards. I read books where the only thing that mattered was contributing to society even at the person's expense. And I grew up believing that dysfunctional families were a normal state of affairs- the book and my own family were almost the same, filled with brilliant people who didn't know how to love even when they did."

The Glass family had been _his _family. His father was a strange embodiment of overachievements, Athrun a product of those achievements by himself. A brilliant man with a brilliant, possibly more brilliant son. A wife who was a model of a learned and intelligent woman, someone who obeyed her husband and produced a suitable heir. A house filled with pictures of family and an absent father.

Were they capable of love? Were they capable of showing love to each other?

"The Zalas were one of the most powerful families in Plant," Athrun told her heavily. "And that's why I was brought up to live for others and not for myself. How do you think the Elsmans, the Joules, the Zalas and the Amalfis ended up ceding their beloved sons to the First War? These families were some of the most powerful in Plant and the world to begin with, even before the history of Coordinators started. Their debt to society was to make sure their heirs grew up with all the privileges of education and fine upbringing to contribute back, be it in politics, businesses, in every aspect of society. That's why all our parents had to watch us being sacrificed in a war for humanity if necessary."

Cagalli stared at him, suddenly thinking back to the dinner they'd had when he'd revealed something of the most powerful Coordinator families' history. The Joule House – filled with political giants. The Elsmans were masters of commerce. The Amalfis boasted a long bloodline of musicians, artists and philosophers.

Athrun hadn't spoken much about the Zalas. But had he been hinting of her role in all of this- how she'd made him go against his own heritage, his place in history and what his society expected of a scion of the Zala House?

He had been expected to die for the Plants. But he had defected- the son of the Plant Chairman, running away from the Plants, defying his orders, going against his own captain, using a mobile weapon he'd stolen - all because he'd met someone who'd suggested that everything he'd known wasn't always correct.

"So many people looked up to the Zalas, the way they lived and contributed to society with their cleverness and wealth. Do you know how I met Lacus? Our parents were already associates. But even before that, we were both on so many shows. Shows that featured wunderkinds. She was being asked to sing."

He took a deep breath, and she suddenly saw that telling her all this was hurting him.

"I was given all sorts of puzzles to solve with a new record to break. I was made to break so many that my talent became the breaking of records." Athrun laughed painfully. "I was brought up thinking that being clever and well-behaved was the only way for me to gain my father's attention. The more admiration I earned, the closer I was to my father. But nobody knew this. So many people admired the Zalas. They wanted to be the Zalas."

Cagalli saw that his face had become very pale. She thought of the Glass children, and suddenly saw that Athrun had been shaped by more than his father- he had been moulded by his own surroundings in ways he couldn't fight against.

"And I thought I had to do what my society expected of me." Athrun said wearily. "To go to war, obey my father, obey the chairman of the Plants, fight another war and give up all that I really wanted to do. Even going back to the Plants after the Second War to continue the political legacy of the Zalas was something expected of me. When I realised that I couldn't live just for the sake of everyone else, I came here to The Isle. I can't keep living for the people who are watching me, can I? I need to live for myself."

His voice was filled with a grieving that was so human, as was the warmth of his body and the pulse under her palm. She realised suddenly, that the rhythm under her palm was that of his heart.

"I never realised it. But it was during the first time I saw you that I began to see that."

She stared at him, surprised. "What?"

"You were so different from everything I knew." He said earnestly. "You acted because you believed in something, in its totality. I wanted to feel as passionately as you did. I wanted to believe in something completely and totally again- you made me question what I'd grown up believing. Wasn't it fair that you gave me something else that I could trust in replacement for what I questioned?"

Cagalli's heart leapt. "Did I even?"

"I thought you knew," Athrun said simply. "All this while, I thought you'd known exactly what you'd done. When you'd made me question my beliefs, you made me renounce those. And in return, I began to believe that the only way to end the war was to stop the fighting first."

"We all believed that," Cagalli tried to argue. "It wasn't me that really made you believe it- you knew it all along, deep inside yourself. Maybe, I just happened to be there and-"

He looked at her directly. "Maybe that's true. But by consciously making me question everything, you were responsible for my subsequent beliefs."

There was no accusatory tone, merely a stating, a matter of fact, and it made her feel uneasy. She had never thought of that event of meeting him in this way, but the more she thought about it, the more he seemed correct.

"I couldn't go for a few days without thinking about you then. Did you think it was pure nobleness that made me want to use the Justice to stop the Genesis, and die for all my father's sins?" Athrun said with a mirthless laugh.

"Wasn't it so?" Cagalli said, bewildered.

He laughed again, and this time, she knew it was a broken sound. "You never knew because I never told you, did you? That's why you're selfish- you never realise what you can do to others around you. When I attempted self-destruction, it wasn't merely to absolve my father and myself from his crimes."

She stared, wide-eyed. "Then what else was there?"

He looked at her with open, honest eyes, and something began to hurt in her chest. In that moment, Cagalli had looked into his true face for a moment, and it was one that would last an eternity.

"When we were on the Archangel, when you said that you'd protect me, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop my loving you. But I wanted to stop. I was afraid of how you would eventually grow up as I had and begin to lose your innocence and your love for the world after the war ended. Then you would see that I wasn't worth very much and that I certainly wasn't worth your loving."

He was trembling, but he did not break the eye-contact. "I thought that if I could sacrifice myself and die honourably, you would remember the best of me. If I could die, you would love me forever, even after the war ended and when my father and my sins would be dragged out for the rest of the world to judge. The last memory of me would blot out any subsequent proof of how unworthy I was."

"God- I," Cagalli's face was white. He had given her a love that had the nature of a child's unselfish totality, but she had failed to understand that he had given it to her as a man. And yet, she had banished him from Orb, forced him to leave, he had gone to The Isle.

"But out of all those reasons, I wanted to make you cry- at least once!- for me." Athrun said heavily. "I wanted you to ask me not to go anywhere else, to live with you, by your side. And you did."

Her voice was strained. "I asked you to live-,"

She was panting, as if she had wept until she had collapsed.

"And that was why I left the debris of my father's killing machine. I lived and tried to atone for sins beyond me," Athrun said jerkily. "Because you asked me to live. I wanted to live for you. But I made so many mistakes. I left you for the Second War because I didn't want to accept that my father's sins had nothing to do with me. And when I wanted to undo those mistakes, I had to watch you leave me to try and atone for your own father's sins."

"There wasn't a choice then," Cagalli argued. "The Second War hadn't quite ended and I needed to be in Orb. And even after that, even after you came back to Orb when the war had ended, Orb needed me more than anyone else did."

"What about now?" Athrun said abruptly. "What if I say that I need you more than Orb ever will?"

She forced a little laugh out, trying to take her hand away from his heart, but he gripped it and held it there. "Don't Athrun-, it was impossible from the start. Even now, it's impossible."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice was harsh.

"You asked me to live and to forget about my father's mistakes, but now you don't want to do the same even though I'm asking you to for my sake."

"I know it isn't fair to you!" Cagalli cried, losing her cool completely. "But we'd drifted apart by the time the Second War ended, and it didn't make sense to drag that relationship on when I had full responsibility for Orb! Even now! I have no other choice, I-,"

"But you do." He interrupted. "You can choose to stay and to love me."

"I can't," She said, white-faced. She watched his mouth harden.

"You love Orb for your father's sake." Athrun said bitterly. "But you refuse to love and live for me, when it's for both our sakes. It isn't fair to both of us. I know I haven't the least right to ask you to love me. But there isn't any other way for me. I've spent seven years understanding that."

She stared at him, painfully aware that she had no right asking him to love her either. For that matter, she had no right asking him to live in the past. But she had. And he had done so for her.

In doing so, he had conferred his life into her hands. His heartbeat was hers to crush, that heart that beat under her palm.

And in a single moment, she realised that she had even less right to tell him to go on living without her.

She could not hide anymore from him.

It had been during the Second War that Athrun realised that he couldn't live for others. But for her, it was during the Second War that Cagalli realised that she had to live for others.

She had become the Orb Princess for her father, for Kisaka, for the thousands depending on her. She had become the Orb Princess in order to live with the guilt of being an indirect cause of the Second War despite her father's wishes. The guilt was unbearable- but as the Orb Princess, she could find redemption.

That was her place in the world- as the Orb Princess. As Cagalli Yula Atha, she was worth very little.

She felt something stir within her, an emotion so great it made her eyes sting, as if he'd forced her head underwater while her eyes were still open.

Athrun's heart was beating steadily, and she wondered if it was better to crush it and then her own to stop their suffering.

The relationship they'd once had had been a slow, achingly torturous descent to hell without either of them knowing it. They had been so young, so deeply in love, with hope coursing through their veins. Love gave them hope, and so they'd believed that love was all that mattered.

But in reality, the hopes and ideals she'd had had never existed.

It seemed ludicrous that she had once spoken to him of love and peace and the will to live in the First War. For Cagalli had lost a great deal of that idealism and noble rhetoric by the time the Second War was truly over. Slowly, surely, she had known that that idealism and her innocence had been eroded a little by little all these years.

Those hopes she'd carried through the First War and most of the Second War had been proof of her inexperience and ignorant naivety. She had actually believed in the political rhetoric of fair play and honourable governance because of her inexperience.

In retrospect, Cagalli was now sure that Athrun had been as thoroughly tricked by the notion of hope as she had been.

But for _him _to have been so enamoured with hope, for him to have been so enamoured with _her_!

For all his sophistication and that seed of bitterness his father had planted in him, Athrun had been just as idealistic and as foolish as her.

Perhaps, it had been his aching, grieving young heart and scarred body which had wanted a respite after the First War. Everyone needed hope to survive. Even for Athrun, who had seen so many ideals exposed as flimsy rhetoric, hope was necessary for survival. Or perhaps, it was because he'd seen so much that hope was an imperative.

Unwittingly, Cagalli realised, she'd given him some kind of hope when she'd asked him to live. Consequently, he'd chosen to believe that some ideals still existed, and that those existed in her.

His hope had come in the form of love and acceptance, something he sought from her. She had been so deeply in love with him, with life itself; that she'd scarcely realised that she was leaving an imprint on him that he would never be free of.

For her, hope had come in the notion of a better world and that she could contribute to it without betraying her values and personal beliefs.

But by the time the Second War was truly over, she was convinced that they'd been fools.

She'd become wiser since then.

She stared at him, seeing how his face had changed since then, how cold his eyes had become, how tense and cruel his mouth seemed.

Perhaps, he'd learnt since then. But now, Cagalli finally understood why she was so afraid of looking at him, into him, seeing how he'd changed to survive.

In Rune Estragon's face, Cagalli saw herself. She was the Orb Princess who had survived by relinquishing her identity and ideals. She wrenched her hand away from him again, and he stared at her, understanding that she was saying something that she had never wanted to tell him.

"There." Cagalli said roughly. "Do you see? You didn't really love me- you loved the thought of hope and renewal, redemption even. But you were wrong about me. I'm no different from the people around you- I can't show you another way of living. Maybe I was different in the past. But that was only because I believed in those ideals, those dreams, because I was enough of a fool to."

She looked at him, her eyes molten with tears.

"I'm living the way you've had to for survival- the way everyone lives to survive. Don't fight it anymore, Athrun. People have to live in the places assigned to them because that's what's expected of them. That's the only way they're of use to anything. That's why I had to banish you when you came back to me after the Second War. I needed you to leave Orb and go back to the Plants where you were needed, so I could stay where I was needed."

Her voice was filled with grief. "I couldn't let you see that I had betrayed myself either. I used to believe that I could achieve things without betraying myself- but that's not possible. That was an ideal which I shouldn't have allowed myself to believe in. That's why we need to stop fighting against the things we can't change. Ourselves- we've both changed too much since then."

"Perhaps you're right." Athrun said steadily. "Perhaps I loved you for what I thought you could give to me and how you could make me forget who I was. And we have changed much, there's no denying it. I've become Rune Estragon- you've become the Orb Princess. But my feelings haven't changed."

"But mine have!" She cried, in a sudden lapse of self-control, revealing the depth of her frustration. "I've been thinking about it, and the reason why I probably feel attracted to you is because I'm attracted to a life where I don't have to answer to anyone!"

He took one look at her and understood. But he had- that night when they'd returned from Rochester's, when she had been so close but so far from him.

"In any case," Cagalli said wearily, "I've changed so much that it doesn't make sense to love you when I shouldn't. I can't give you whatever you saw and loved in me- not anymore. You don't know anything, do you? You think you have feelings for Cagalli Yula Atha, when I'm not even the same person you loved!"

He watched her, his eyes like glass shards in the moonlight.

His next words surprised her and struck a kind of dread into her heart. "I'm not entirely ignorant, Cagalli. I don't know the exact details, but I can guess what you did to regain power in Orb after the Second War. By the time I came back to Orb, trying to win you again, you'd already started breaking down the Seirans and other political threats. That's why you were so resistant to letting me enter Orb during that time. You didn't want me to see what you were doing to gain a foothold in Orb. That's why you allowed me to be accused of being involved with the Seirans and their crime of poisoning Orb's then-prime minister. But you didn't want me to be executed either. So you got me out of there fast, before anyone could really clarify what happened."

He watched her quietly. Those eyes were gazing through her, staring into her, through the window of her resolve, and she felt herself becoming cold. He knew.

So all this time, she thought resentfully, he had been playing around with her, mocking her and her efforts to distance herself from him.

For all this time, he had stayed around her, reminding her of how deep the wounds were, how deeply and madly they had been in love. He'd even allowed her to throw herself at him, watched her make a fool out of herself, hiding things that he already knew about.

He was seeking some kind of twisted revenge on her, she thought desperately, exposing her when she was finally sure that she had feelings for him.

His voice was calm, cutting. "The Seirans were desperate to make peace and regain their footing in politics after their only son had died. They even pledged their allegiance to you."

"They did," She mumbled, "They asked me to forgive them and their greed and insensitivity they'd showed. They asked me to let them off on the account that they were distant relatives of my father."

"But you had them crushed." Athrun said intently.

His voice was soft, and she thought it was almost cruel because of how devoid it was of feeling. "You all had their assets frozen by accusing them of embezzling from public funds. It was a ridiculous accusation, don't you think? The Seirans were so filthy- rich that they didn't have to embezzle anything at all. You even let your advisors draw up figures to suggest that they were going bankrupt to strengthen the accusation."

"The Seirans funded weapon production lines for the Blue Cosmos in the Second War!" Cagalli said through gritted teeth. "If I didn't do that, they might have helped the Blue Cosmos regain power even when the world was still trying to recover from Second War!"

"But you stripped the Seirans of their political standing in Orb as well." Athrun reminded her. "You took away everything that they had. Even their last dignity- their political power."

"I had to!" She cried. "They were a threat to Orb's security. If they continued to have the former influence they had in Orb, the people would be misguided. They'd undermine the government I'd set up with my own hands! If I hadn't done that, they'd have been a threat to Orb!"

"They'd have been a threat to you." Athrun interrupted.

She looked at him, white-faced.

"You had them defeated so entirely. And you pushed them so far, that they had to do what they did." Athrun said relentlessly, ignoring the way she was beginning to tremble.

He knew what he was doing. He was breaking her. But if he didn't, she would never be free.

Cagalli spoke bitterly. "They tried to assassinate me with poison. The prime minister died for it."

"So you gave the Seirans no chance of turning back." He said, looking at her impassively. "Because you felt that the prime minister's death was your fault. You revoked their Orb citizenships and to prevent them from leaving the country until the case was entirely closed. In the meantime, I was forced to leave Orb, effectually taking the blame with me because the case was never entirely resolved. But when you closed their family bank shortly after, the Seirans committed suicide once they lost their last source of income. You drove them to it. Their followers pledged their allegiance to you and the new government after that."

She began to stammer what she had rehearsed for so long, what she thought she knew to say. Hadn't her advisors drilled her on this, hadn't she been prepared for this day?

But in truth, he was the only person who questioned her about this- no one ever had, not even her subordinates. It had been her Cabinet, her new government, in fact, who had advised and convinced her to act as she had. But she had willingly done what they'd advised in any case, convinced that being ruthless was the only way.

Athrun looked mildly at her. "Am I looking at the great, noble Orb Princess and what's left of her ideals?"

How had she reacted to Dullindal's justification for letting weapon factories function? He'd justified those by saying, "Some things can't be helped."

Nine years ago, Cagalli had retorted, "But they've got to be helped!"

Now, Athrun looked at her, and she was afraid to look at him. His voice was callous.

"Did you finally learn that establishing the kind of power you needed to rebuild Orb was at the expense of your ideals? Did you finally realise that sacrificing others like the Seirans and their followers was acceptable for the greater good?"

"They weren't worth much." She whispered. There was nervousness, desperation in her voice. "They weren't worth much."

"I suppose the Birthday assasins weren't worth much either." Athrun said unexpectedly.

Her eyes widened and she began to clutch at her hair, shaking her head. A cry ripped itself from her throat and there was madness in her face.

But he grabbed her hands, locking them in his, preventing her from wrenching fistfuls of her golden hair out from her scalp. Athrun had not told her of what he had found out- he thought he had been protecting her by pretending to be ignorant of the last seven years. But now, he knew what he had to do to save her.

When he had stabbed and shot Decant Corriolis in front of her, she had lost her ability to speak. Athrun had been surprised that she had reacted so adversely, so extremely to this. Granted, seeing a man die like that was horrific, especially since he had been certain that Cagalli had never killed a person with her bare hands before.

To make her regain her speech, he had needed to know the cause of her extreme reaction.

Thus, Athrun had asked Epstein to gather information. When Athrun had learnt of the past events, he had understood how fragile Cagalli was and why she had retreated into a shell upon seeing Corriolis' death.

On her twenty-second birthday, a group of radical Orb Naturals had charged into the ballroom the celebrations had been held at. She had been sitting amongst the most important royals, smiling, making conversation, trying to hide her boredom at an event she could not choose to not attend.

She had screamed as a guard had fallen on the table, food and blood everywhere, sixty men and even women in masks opening fire at everything they saw.

Her bodyguards were rushing everywhere, trying to shoot the assassins down, and she had seen one turning to her, shouting his instructions for her to run before his head had been blown, clean off his shoulders.

She had tried to get up and run with the rest, hauling herself to her feet, weighed down by her elaborate gown with a long train.

She had tripped, stumbling across a step in the mad rush, and had gone down in a hail of bullets.

Athrun had been silent as Epstein had recounted all this to him.

"A witness claimed he saw the Princess being attacked by one assassin who fell on top of her." Epstein had reported gravely. "She was surrounded by a circle of other assailants and the witness said he couldn't quite see anything because the circle was so dense and so tight. But the witness claimed that he saw the Orb Princess' personal aide rush against that circle, striking out at everything he could see until one of them grabbed him and put a gun to his head. But there was a stray bullet and the assassin holding Aaron Biliensky fell into the circle of his own comrades and died shortly. He was shot through his eye and brain."

Athrun had folded his hands, thinking. "And what about the Orb Princess?"

"The witness claimed," Epstein had answered hesitantly, "That he saw the Princess lying on the floor with a ripped train and a slashed bodice with the sleeves torn apart. There were bloodstains all over her, and she was holding a gun and pressing the trigger without stopping, not even when all the bullets had been used. The witness claimed that she was screaming but there was no sound coming from her mouth- and the assailant who had been about to kill her aide was lying on her with half his waist blown to bits with holes in the back. He fell on her- she probably shot through him even though he was already dead from the first bullet. She probably didn't even know what she was doing."

Athrun had been very silent for a long time. Even when he asked his next question, he had already guessed the answer.

"What was the colour of her dress?"

Cagalli had felt the weight of a corpse falling on her, she had seen Corriolis' blood seeping into the white sheets- and she had remembered.

"White."

In fact, Cagalli had suffered no more than a stray bullet whizzing past her cheek, for a bullet-proof vest was part of the pre-cautions.

The Birthday assassins, as they soon came to be called, were taken away once reinforcements had been sent in. The whole ordeal had lasted slightly less than an hour, but something of Cagalli had been destroyed on her twenty-second birthday.

To be wished dead, on her birthday.

Now, he caught her in his arms, locking her hands in his, stopping her from hurting herself. She was thrashing about wildly in the water, sobbing, and he felt a surge of hatred for those who had tried to harm her. That hatred was so strong he didn't know if he was capable of even healing her.

Her voice was shaking badly. "I had to shoot- I couldn't let that man hurt Aaron- if I hadn't shot him in the eye he'd have killed Aaron- and there were nine of them- they wanted to kill me- One was laughing when he struck me and tried to take off the vest I was wearing under the gown- I thought he would shoot me in the head straightaway but he said he wanted to wait-I couldn't let Aaron kill them- he'd have to live with his hands stained-,"

Athrun grabbed her face, seeing the tears stream down her eyes for a brief second- for in the next, he had silenced her by kissing her, closing his eyes while knowing that she would close hers.

Neither of them knew how long they kissed, how they clung to each other as if parting would shatter one or both of them. The water was cold, it washed against them, against their shoulders as they sank deeper into the pool, too busy to find the proper footing, too desperate trying to heal each other, too much in need to keep from sinking.

When they had to break the kiss, he only brought her closer to him, preventing her from distancing herself from him. It struck him that there were tears running down both their faces.

Her voice was small, and she was trembling still, but he let her speak. She needed to tell him all of this- he needed to hear it. It would be the only way she could find a way to recover.

"I had to allow the Orb radicals to be executed when they were rounded up and proved guilty of high treason," Cagalli said shakily. Her arms came tighter around him and he knew that she was afraid that he would let her go.

But he didn't. He would never. He tightened his hands around her waist, and only then did she continue.

"They would have harmed me again if they had been allowed to keep their lives. They would have manipulated and used Orb the way the Blue Cosmos wanted, against Plant and the Earth Alliance's efforts at establishing peace amongst the Coordinators and Naturals. I had to approve of their removal. Diplomacy wouldn't have gone anywhere with radicals."

Her lips were ashen with her biting. "But that's not all I allowed. I-, I can't say it-,"

"Tell me." Athrun whispered. "You need to say it. To me. I won't let you go even if you want me to."

She didn't dare to look at him, even though there was the comfort of being wrapped in his embrace. Her body limp with her fear, her hands cold although they were on his warm, breathing body. "The radicals admitted to the charges after a week's worth of _torture_ by the Orb Bureaucracy of Intelligence. It was advised- I wouldn't have thought of it- I couldn't even speak properly at that point- I was still speaking in stammers- but when it was suggested, I allowed the Bureaucracy to torture the radicals. Most of them died before they admitted it. Those who survived the torture were executed thereafter."

She closed her eyes, tears spilling out of them even though she did everything in her power to keep them inside her. "That's not all. I allowed the dissidents who spoke out against the newly unified government of Orb to be banished. Each time the advisors put forward a proposal to remove potential threats, I allowed the proposal to be implemented. Those who spoke out against the new government lost their citizenships and were forced into areas outside Orb and its territories. Those people lost almost everything in their lives because of me. When some tried to return for revenge, I allowed their elimination, I allowed their public execution as a warning for the others. All that during these seven years."

"You had to." Athrun said sombrely. "It would have been ridiculous for the new leader of Orb to support those opposing her government. Ideals have no place in politics."

"When I privately questioned the justification for Orb's extended control of the former Earth Alliance colonies, I was criticised by my own parliament. It didn't make sense for me to refuse taking the colonies that Earth Alliance was offering. There was Europe, some parts of Africa, and some South-east Asian territories- all those would benefit Orb, whether politically or economically. They told me that as the Orb Princess, I would be a fool to reject the Earth Alliance's offer. It made sense. At that point, America was the most powerful independent region that had broken away from the Earth Alliance. America was trying to take control of other former colonies and build its own power. Orb had to step in."

"I know." Athrun said quietly. "If America gained enough power from these key colonies, and failed to remove anti-coordinator sentiments from its states, another war would start. So Orb took control of those Earth Alliance colonies before they could fall into the hands of America and possibly, anti-Coordinator radicals."

"Power comes from the barrel of a gun." Cagalli said softly. "It took me so long to understand that."

She placed her head on his shoulder, a swan concealing its head under its wing. He knew she was blinking hard to keep the tears away.

"My father thought this way, and I could never agree with him. But I've become my father. I made so many speeches after the war, begging the people to trust in the government I was to build, to trust in peace and the renewal of life. I used to believe in what I was saying- but for the first time, I knew that those speeches were built on rhetoric. The means of accomplishing what I was promising to the people-"

She gave a desperate, tiny little laugh of misery. "Gilbert Dullindal, mad or not, unethical or not, was a genius. How self-righteous I was when I told him that things had to be helped- as if I could help those things! Everything I've done all these years was necessary- those were a means to an end. He was correct- the means don't matter when the end is all that counts."

"Everyone called Orb the economic miracle- the fastest to recover from the Second War's aftermath. Unemployment was reduced by seventy percent within two years after the war ended, and growth was increasing by three percent a year. Imagine that! But nobody really knew that the massive job-creation came from the government buying up wasted land and restarting factories and massive production lines. Producing weapons!"

"Those weapons were used to stamp out the minor, post-war conflicts within Orb colonies. My people were making weapons to restart the economy- I couldn't refuse the most effective option of job creation. Those weapons were loaned to Earth Alliance to wipe out the coups, since the Alliance couldn't even afford their own army after that. There was a demand for those weapons, so we supplied those. That's why the Earth Alliance gave us so many territories to Orb. The world understood it as being a transfer of areas that needed more attention from a more stable superpower. But those were actually payments for the weapon-loans. It was written off as a structural change of the EA and Orb territories, but I know better! Orb earned so much from the production and loaning of weapons- I couldn't refuse or deny that."

"Each time, I wondered if there was another way. But if there was, it was not nearly as efficient. There's a tainting of hands everywhere- and if there must be one, then my hands should be the ones to be tainted. It's what my father went through, and I'll do the same for Orb."

Athrun brought a hand to her neck, letting it move upwards, rooting itself in her hair, hugging her. He wanted to hurt whoever it was who had hurt her- but now, it seemed that he was powerless against those forces too. Everything that hurt her weren't people- people could be killed and punished. Systems, memories, traumatic experiences- those couldn't be killed or punished.

"I had so many politicians bought- bribed over." Cagalli said brokenly. "They became my political figureheads- then when they'd served their purpose, I allowed them to become redundant, which made them removable."

Dullindal had bought Mia with the offer of a dream. But he had allowed the dream to collapse, and he'd allowed her to die as a broken piece of something that could never be. Cagalli had done the same, in different ways, with people who might have become threats to her hold on Orb.

"It's been so effective, I wonder if I was right for judging him as a heretic." She said in a strange voice. "Perhaps his plans for the world were the best futures for all of us. We wouldn't have to dream- we wouldn't have to be fooled by ideals and be disappointed each time. Maybe he was just ahead of his time, that's all."

"Nobody knows." Athrun said softly. "But I can't accept what he wanted for the world because I had my own dreams."

"Look what they became!" She cried. "I betrayed you in the end, didn't I? People let each other down because they have different dreams and they want to fulfil their own dreams! That's why it's better not to dream at all!"

She pulled herself away slightly to look at him. Her eyes were fearful. "Do you dare to hold me still?"

"I've known what you did for a long time," Athrun said flatly, "But I want you all the more for that."

Her voice was a whisper. "What?"

He grabbed her by her shoulders, gripping her to him, forcing her into his embrace again. His voice was wracked with pain and need. "It's time we stopped thinking of the things that have changed, and see the things that haven't. I don't care if you've killed someone, if you've done things that have gone against your nature and what you believe in. Those were sacrifices, sins, whatever you make of them- but you did those knowing what you were doing and that you had to do it. I don't care if you think you aren't worth anything if you aren't the Orb Princes. Do you hear me? I've lived and seen enough to recognise that the sins I've committed doesn't change what I want. And I want you."

She looked at him curtly. "What do you propose then? With what I know, with what I've seen, what I can do, what I'm expected to do, I will always remain the Head of Orb. And nothing can really remove me except death. And even then, I will die as my father did- for Orb. There isn't an alternative. This is what my father meant, this is what he wanted when he entrusted Orb to me. Even if I have to continue staining my hands, doing things that go against what I believe in, I will."

"Your father's dead." He said brusquely, and it was a whiplash. He did not know where the bitterness had come from, the tone of anger, jealousy and hatred in his words.

He did not know why he had said that- why he had chosen to draw out her fears and her insecurities and used those to bring her into his arms when he didn't deserve to hold her either.

But he knew he had hurt her in the end without meaning to- perhaps, that was all he was capable of- this destruction of everything he had ever loved.

She watched him, stunned, as if he'd hit her.

Then something in his face crumbled. A twitch of the mouth and his eyes were not emerald chips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I-"

She pulled herself from the pool and stood up, mumbling. "My father's dead. I know. That's the only reason why Orb needs me. That's the only reason why I choose to be my father. That's exactly why I need to be the one who stains my hands for Orb. And that's why I can't allow myself to love you- you deserve more than someone like me. And that's why I need to leave The Isle."

He did not answer, but then she had already left him in so many ways.

* * *

3 months. 30 days.


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

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**A/N:** Hello, dear readers!

I'm really sorry for the long delay, even though so many of you reviewed and helped me hit that personal target. I was hesitant about uploading this chapter, which attributes to its delay. Frankly, I was afraid that I'd be accused of being a bad writer and that readership would drop like crazy if I uploaded this chapter- but hey, here it is.

As **D.L.S** and so many other of you assured me, I will stick to what was meant to be a grittier, more adult story that I'd written and finished months ago. Call it smut if you must, but I have found that taking anything out of what is written and released will not do justice to the plot and the ending. The adult scenes **(read the warning below)** are absolutely necessary for this story.

**Hence, there will be a chance of story rating from now on.**

**For those who are uncomfortable with (M) and cannot continue to support The Isle, I must thank you anyway for those great reviews and PMs.**

Hence, please give me your support if possible- so many have done that in the past, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. **Twilightsonnet** even offered to be my beta, which is lovely. I really need the assurance that this story should be continued in the way I intended. So please, read and review if you can, I'd love the readership to continue for this story.

In the case that I feel I must take out the more adult scenes, I'd rather discontinue this story totally. I hope you understand.

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**Warning:** Adult scenes

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Chapter 13

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The lights in the large house seemed dimmed by the night. There was a single moth, grey, desolate, drawn to a light it thought was the moon.

When Lacus had left on the shuttle, Kira knew that she would cry only when it took off.

Her eyes had been red but mostly dry, and no tears fell. She had given him a small, brave but nevertheless, wan smile. She had been wearing a loose oatmeal-colored dress, since Lacus was beginning to become heavy with their child. The security guards around her were operating on a nearly paranoid level, for they did not want anyone to agitate her. Also, they were careful not to agitate her themselves.

It was difficult, Kira reflected, not having his wife with him. These few weeks had been awful, but with her, it had been so much more bearable. She was the one person who understood him even when he did not have to speak, and perhaps he had taken that for granted. Now, the world around him was waiting for statements to fall from his lips, and it unnerved a usually taciturn, slightly introverted man that his words carried a thousand times more weight than before.

Before him, the light illuminated the papers he had to read before the meeting tomorrow, and he felt an awful exhaustion creep into his mind and his body.

This was what Cagalli went through every day, he thought wryly. Who was he to complain?

He rubbed his eyes, biting back his yawns, and he forced his eyes back onto the papers. He worked through the remaining files steadily, taking care to read every single clause the clerks had drawn up, seeing if they matched his exact instructions. But then, she had the most capable people working for her in her air-tight parliament, and it was clear that her power extended even to the choice of people in the system she had re-created.

His twin was probably one of the most capable people he had ever known. She may not have realized this or recognized her own abilities, but she had long proven herself to be more than Uzumi Nara Atha's daughter. She was Cagalli Yula Atha- someone who was capable of writing her own history, someone who had written so much of Orb's. She was a law unto herself- and the people worshipped her for it.

The tiny moth was made prettier by the light- an artificial light, but a light that gave its grey a shimmer nonetheless. It pattered aimlessly in the air. Kira's eyes were drawn to it for a second, and he was hypnotized by its futile attempt to approach a light that was locked within the glass sphere.

Some sadness was mingled in the pride when he thought of Cagalli. She did so much and asked for so little. Yet, he had never told her that he had forgiven her such a long time ago, and that it was time for her to forgive herself.

He hadn't spoken to her much since her twenty-second birthday, although Lacus had long been urging him to. Now, it was possibly too late. But Kira had no time left for regrets- if he could do something for Cagalli right now, he would, no matter how painful it was for himself or for Lacus. Frankly, Kira wondered if war would quench the rage that was in him. Orb would be on his side, and like him, Orb wanted revenge for Cagalli Yula Atha. But Cagalli had done so much to protect Orb, and he couldn't go against her wishes.

Now, both he and Lacus were bearing the consequences of Cagalli's disappearance.

Being discharged from her post as Mediator had been something Lacus did not want, but Kira knew that it was best for her health's sake.

Of course, Kira was objective enough to know that she was certainly more useful in office than a nursing home, especially with how things were building up between the EA and Orb at this point. Plant needed to be on guard to play a peacemaker this time, and that called for all its diplomats and the mediator, the head diplomat, to be working harder than ever.

For if Orb and the EA went to war, Plant's investments in both superpowers was very substantial. With a war, all these would fail and millions of Coordinators would face the impacts of unemployment and possibly even an economy that would be hindered for the next decade. Plant's economy that was not quite fully recovered from the war could not afford that. But Plant was awaiting a child that the world would be delighted to welcome into the world, and Kira did not want her exposed to the trappings of expectations and a frantic, even bloodhound-like press. He simply did not want to risk putting Lacus in the spotlight at this moment.

Neither did the Supreme Council, for that matter. Chairman Kanaver had ordered that the Mediator of Plant take rest until her pregnancy was over. But Kira knew exactly why this had been ordered.

Like him, the Plant Council knew that Lacus Clyne was perfectly capable of handling a pregnancy and her work even until her third trimester. In fact, they needed her more than ever, what with the war looming on the horizon.

But the Plant Council no longer saw Lacus Clyne as the Mediator, since she was directly related to the Orb Princess. Any action Lacus Clyne took in the name of Plant would bear serious consequences on Orb's relationship with Plant, as well as the Earth Alliance's. The Council could not risk a situation whereby the Earth Alliance would accuse Lacus Clyne and by extension, Plant, of siding with Orb.

Neither could the council risk having Orb accusing the Plant Council of dealing with the Earth Alliance in such a way that overcompensated for Lacus Clyne's relationship with the Orb Princess. Either way, having Lacus Clyne as the head diplomat was too much of a risk.

Besides, Kira thought ruefully, the fact that he was here, as Orb's Proxy, was already a fortunate mistake that Plant's Supreme Council had made. He had been lucky to be discharged from his duty as a Zaft General with Kira being released after citing the reason that he wanted more time for family.

To think that the Supreme Council had actually gone along with his reasons for wanting to be discharged from duty! Both Kira and the Supreme Council knew that there had been more going on at that point.

The Supreme Council had released the Head General of defense technology and military research only because they thought he was unlikely to agree to be the Proxy for Orb. They had reckoned that Kira Yamato would not agree to the grim responsibility of heading Orb; at least, not when his wife was in Plant and pregnant with their first child. Not when his reputation and his job was at risk, not when there were threats that like the Orb Princess, he would be attacked and wiped off the face of the earth too.

But Kira Yamato had.

He sighed now, feeling lonelier than he had when he had stepped back into this house and realized that there was nobody waiting for him.

The Atha Estate was well-furnished with a coziness that had probably been Aaron Biliensky's achievement, Kira suspected. The person who was subordinate only to the Orb Princess herself was a very remarkable person. Yet, even Aaron Biliensky could not drive out the feeling that this vast estate housed a woman who did not really belong anywhere in it.

Kira looked at the grandfather clock in the drawing room, where Cagalli must have often sat to read or to work or even to address letters to people. It read four in the morning. Letting himself yawn now, he stood up, stretching and feeling how sore his arms were.

The clock chimed morosely, and he stacked the papers up, preparing for bed.

The lights seemed to illuminate everything in this room; the desk, the framed pictures, the settee, the handsome bookcase that housed her favourite books and most of her working files, even the potted plant that nobody had watered for quite some time.

The room haunted him.

The memories of his twin in here were too many for him to bear. How many times had he come in here and saw her wearing the green, kimono dress with its orange sash- what he had given her for her eighteenth birthday? How often had he seen her smiling and asking him to wait a bit while she finished her letter?

And how many times had she set down her things as soon as she could and flung herself into his arms, telling him that she had been thinking of him even when he had come here for himself to see her?

The last memory of her in this room, his last memory of her actually, had been a painful one.

Three years ago, he had visited her. The matter had been hushed up- she controlled enough of the press to ensure that the event had not been leaked to the media. What he had heard from Aaron Biliensky, however, had been enough to make him take the first shuttle he could to Orb.

But what Kira had heard had certainly not been enough to prepare him for what he saw when he entered her drawing room.

Three years ago, Cagalli had not been at her desk, writing or speaking on the phone as he had often seen her do, as he had imagined that she would be doing then.

But then, Kira thought sadly now, that had been a foolish hope.

His twin had been resting on the couch in a manner that suggested that she was either a very human looking doll, or a lifeless entity.

Her eyes had been hollowed, and he could only see one, for the other was wrapped behind a bandage. One arm resembled a bolster, her fingers and hand not visible because of the thick white bandages and the strap propping it up, her elbow limp in its sling. Her other hand was put in such a way that her palm faced upwards to the heavens as it rested on the couch, and her knees hung from the seat.

She wore a mint, shapeless hospital gown that had been unbuttoned to allow ease of changing the bandages. And with shock, he realized that there were cuts all over her neck and most probably, her chest. The hand he could actually see was not unscarred either- her wrist was heavily bandaged.

Her eyes had not met his even when he approached her and sank to his knees, looking at her face, calling her name in a strained voice that was hushed in his horror.

She could not greet her own twin- she was still going through speech therapy to regain what had been an ability to communicate to all ages, to persuade, to reinforce, to inspire.

But what had frightened him the most was the expression- the lack of humanity, the lack of warmth and life in her white face.

The girl sitting before him had not looked like his twin. This girl- this thing was not a human. It was abused, damaged, mutilated for someone's sick pleasure- and it was not his twin.

Aaron had told him exactly what she had gone through- what she had done to save him. She had pulled the trigger when she had realized that Aaron was not capable of doing it. She had killed because Aaron would have been killed, and he would have died for her. So she had taken a life for him and for herself.

It had angered Kira, and it had elicited a rage in him he had not been able to control. Not because she had betrayed ideals that both of them had shared and upheld for so long, but because there had been people who had forced her- someone like her!- to betray her trust in humans and her own beliefs.

Aaron had told him that not all the injuries that she carried were sustained from the assailants' actions. Most of them were self-sustained.

The memories were plaguing him still.

As he switched off the lights, the moth fluttered to the ground, spent from its efforts, conscious that it had been chasing a dream after all. Kira took a step nearer and saw that its wings were singed and that it was lifeless.

The morning was of a darkness that even the lamp he carried could not purge.

His feet guided him up the stairs, up the hallway, to the room, to a room that was probably meant for guests, only that it was hers. Her room was a guest room for its own owner- she slept fewer hours in this bed than the number she spent working in her office.

Kira had never wished for time to turn back. He had often wished that things would change, but he had never wished that he would regain lost time, not even in his darkest hours. But in this very hour, he got on his knees, praying to whoever who would listen, that time would reverse itself, that she would be safe.

He had to see her again. He had to tell her that he had never meant to blame her, that he had merely done as he had deemed best at that time. He had to tell her that he had not meant to use harsh words; that he had done so only for her to fight her way out of depression.

He had to tell her, Kira thought with his heart aching like a wound in him, that she had the right to forgive herself.

* * *

That night, she came to him.

Athrun had not known that she would, nor did he realize the implications of her actions at first. It surprised him, on retrospect, many hours later, for he should have known it wouldn't be simple. Of course, he thought much later, it was logical to expect nothing more than an apology from her and a peace-offering, for Cagalli was not the sort who could be angry or have someone angry at her for a long time.

But he should have known, still, that it was more than that. The fact was that she came to him this time, offering something that he could not resist.

He had lain in his bed an hour after their confrontation, the pillows soaking the excess moistness from his furious, almost desperate exercise.

He hadn't bothered with a change of clothes- merely pulled on his pants after little more than a quick toweling-down upon finishing his swim. He had flung himself in here, his head throbbing.

And Athrun had thought that it was his fault that she had evaded him again. He'd pushed her too far- he'd pushed both of them too hard. In the process, he'd revealed more than what he could or wanted to, and even then, nothing made a difference.

Perhaps Cagalli was right- she was meant to exist for Orb and nothing, for nobody else. Not even if he was begging, not even if she might have had feelings for him, not even when he was risking everything he had for her.

Even with his cabin door locked, the moonlight was streaming clear into the area, an invader that bathed the room in a dim light. It fuelled his frustration and he felt feverish under the white light, and it seemed to him that he was being driven into lunacy.

He stretched his hand out, seeing it become almost glowing under the moonlight. Athrun knew that the light was not worth chasing after. But on the other hand, he wanted to hold it, to grasp it and to feel something solid in his palm and fingers.

When he heard a tentative knock on his door, he sat up disbelievingly. It was Cagalli. Of course it was Cagalli. Who else could it have been?

And that was why he stared at the door for a while, not moving. If he pretended to be asleep, perhaps he would wake to find that things had only been part of a long dream. Perhaps she would leave.

But she began to speak, and he knew he was fighting a lost battle.

"Athrun," Her voice was quiet and with a dignity he suddenly despised. Her dignity, that cold, cultured façade had been lost when he had spoken to her tonight. But Cagalli had put it back on, like a mask, evading him.

"I know you're still awake. I know you won't want to hear this, not after how I've treated you for all these years. But I must say it still."

There was a pause and she began. Her voice was steady although he sensed there was dread and pain in it. "Orb's waiting for me to return. It's not a matter of choice, even if I wanted to stay. It's true that I have so many things I have yet to learn about how I even ended up here. I am curious- of course I'd be. I want to know why I was brought here for, what your plans are and who's giving you orders."

He listened to her pause and then continue. "But nothing matters more than returning now. If I stay on for six months as you order me to, there's no telling what would happen to Orb and Scandinavia- or for that matter, myself."

It was humiliating, Cagalli reflected, to have him bring out all her insecurities one by one, to watch what she had established be negated by how she had established those very things.

But the fact that he had forced her to address all these didn't change the truth that she was afraid of facing herself every day.

And she knew what she had to do-if she had already traded her ideals for Orb's sake, then at least, she would keep Orb safe.

Orb was the only thing she had left, and so it was the only thing that mattered.

And that was why she had to keep Orb from sinking at all costs- all to keep herself from sinking. That was why she had to leave The Isle, the yacht they were on now- and return to Orb, to stop it from sinking and to stop herself from being destroyed along with Orb by a person she was so powerless against.

There was no telling, Cagalli decided, how long she would be stuck in the manor without a route she could use to escape. But there was something she could use- Athrun himself.

The guilt tore at her but she steeled herself. An hour had been enough for her to come to a decision, and it was culminating before his locked door.

There was only once chance to make him play her game now.

"Please open the door." She said hesitantly. "I need to speak to you, face to face."

His voice was steady from behind the door. "Not until you promise me that you won't run from me and yourself this time."

She breathed in deeply. No- she had a better solution to their problem. It was a solution that would allow her not to run but to face him every day.

And yet, she wasn't sure that she could promise him that she would open herself to both of them, which was clearly what he was asking of her.

"I don't think I can promise that, Athrun." Cagalli said quietly. "It would be far too dangerous to let you any closer. For both our sakes, you know this is the rational thing to do. But I do need to speak to you still. If you hear what I have to offer, perhaps you'll understand. So please, open the door."

Athrun felt his hands trembling. How it stung, to have her still think of him as a mere captor who was intent on extracting things from her, how she was thwarting his feelings for her now by saying this!

"I don't want to let you know me. I don't even want to know myself after all that I've done. "Cagalli said softly. "Here, on The Isle, I have to. You make me face myself. I did tonight, didn't I? You made me do it. But I can't do this on a daily basis the way I'd do if I were near you everyday."

Her breaths were becoming shaky, and she swallowed to keep her voice from vanishing completely.

"If I questioned myself everyday, I wouldn't be able to go back to Orb and face everyone again. I would never be able to act as the Orb Princess they look up to anymore. I'd be too aware of the lives I harmed while trying to protect others. And you remind me of that, Athrun. I never dared to admit it to you or myself. But you're a living reminder of what I sacrificed for Orb."

The door was flung open, and Athrun stood there, his face white with anger and distress.

He was bathed in moonlight and she saw that his eyes were almost black in the strange, foreign light. Those glinted, and she knew that they were wet.

His voice was low and raw.

"Didn't you realize it?" Athrun said hoarsely, "That I knew all you'd done even before I brought you back here to The Isle?"

She had suspected it, of course she had.

Subconciously, she had sensed that he was studying her, judging her even when she had awoken to find herself in bandages and seen him sitting by her side, as if they were in a normal hospital and he was simply visiting her.

Every step he had taken, Cagalli realized now, had been calculated. When he had asked her to kiss him, he had been testing her, to see if she had numbed herself completely to the past.

Before that, he must have realized that she had gone through some kind of trauma that had been so efficiently hushed up that nobody really knew anything about it. After all, he had witnessed the way she had reacted extremely and adversely to seeing him kill a man. Had he allowed the man in to elicit a response from her, so that her bluff would be called?

During the encounter at Rochestor's party, hadn't he led her on and then rejected her right before she could erase everything she didn't want to remember about herself with the haze of heat and pleasure? Had he been leading her on merely to confirm that she was running from both him and herself?

"I didn't think about it enough." Cagalli admitted. "I didn't want to face the possibility that you knew all the things that I wanted to forget so badly."

Athrun looked at her, his eyes stormy. She somehow found the strength to continue even when he watched her with those terrible, knowing eyes of his.

"I suspected that you knew about these seven years even before you'd taken me to The Isle." She admitted. "I would have been a fool not to suspect that you didn't know about my past. My being brought here was well-planned, very well-planned, in fact. So it was likely that someone as meticulous as you would have probed into the past to make your present plans function efficiently."

She looked at him wistfully. "Maybe that's why I was always so hesitant and so mistrustful of you. I didn't even dare to admit it to myself- that I was hiding something and that I wanted to continue hiding it even if you might have already known about it. So I wanted to distance myself from you. It wasn't simply the fact that you'd changed and that you were my captor. Frankly, Athrun-," She dropped her gaze until he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him, "I'd become very attracted to the aspects of you that I'd never seen before. I always thought I understood you in the past. But even now, I don't know."

"So if you were learning to accept that I'd changed, or possibly, always carried these traits within me," Athrun said slowly, letting his fingertips move from her chin to rest on her shoulder, "Why did you distance yourself from me?"

"It was the fact that you could confront me with the past at any time that I was here on The Isle, the way you did tonight." Cagalli said quietly.

"Then I was right." He said dully. "I was right all this time. But didn't it occur to you that I never wanted to bring the past against you?"

She was startled, and Athrun must have seen it. He began to speak, and his voice poured into the air, shaking at first and then growing steady as he told her the truth.

"I thought if you could face your sins and accept it, you would begin to accept yourself once more. Yet, I knew pushing you to it was cruel. So I never did, although there were so many questions I wanted answers to."

"Tonight, I chose to bring up the things you wanted to forget, because it seemed like the only way to make you stay with me. And that was the real reason why I chose to confront you in a manner I never planned for or wanted."

His face was pale, and his hand on her shoulder grew stronger in grip. "I want you to stay. This isn't about the people whose orders I follow anymore. This isn't even about the secrets I've kept for seven years. I want to be selfish, more selfish than I've ever been in my life. I deserve the chance to fight for what I want, even if I have to resort to ways I never imagined."

She looked at his arms, those bare limbs that ran from his shoulder down as beautiful slabs of white marble would be attached. There were scars she could not see- scars she'd put there.

She had made him in so many ways that she had never seen before- perhaps even more than his father had, despite what she'd always seen and thought.

She took a tentative step forward, feeling the chill travel over her hands and down the length of her spine. He watched, still and grave as she placed her palms on his shoulders and traced the wounds that had healed over but still existed.

The bullet wound in his arm, she saw, had probably been a deep one. He'd told her once that his father had ordered him to be detained; shot even, if he'd tried to escape. Of course, Patrick Zala had ended up shooting Athrun himself, just to keep him from defecting.

In the past, Cagalli had been sure that the scar was proof of Patrick Zala's blind ambition and his conviction that his only child was better off dead than alive with beliefs that deviated from his own.

But the scar was deeper than that. Cagalli had put it there as well- she'd asked him to think about what he'd always believed in, she'd asked him to question the fundamentals of why he was staying on in a war that he had lost faith in.

When he'd left the Plants as a defector, as a war-criminal, as a disowned son; his arm had been bleeding and his mind still in numb shock over the way his father had looked at him and shot him.

But Athrun Zala had done it while thinking of what she'd said.

He had told her that she might have changed but his feelings hadn't.

Hearing that had made her wonder if he was the fool or she for having felt her heart beat against her throat. Hope was something she could not afford. And so, no matter how tempting it was to let him guide them both this time, the only kind of possible redemption for her mistakes in the past was to live and die for Orb.

And that was why she had to pull him to her and use him now, even though all she wanted was to have him take her into his arms and let herself love him.

She traced the scars and then stopped abruptly, pressing a finger to his lips, touching his mouth now.

"Athrun," She said softly. "Let's turn back. Bring me back to The Isle with you."

He looked at her, running his hand on her shoulder down to her elbow, shifting her hand away but transferring it into his own. "What?"

"Bring me back to that room in your stronghold," Cagalli said softly. Her hand was cold in his warm one. "Do whatever you need with me- extract whatever information you need to have from me. If you want wealth, I have plenty of it. I can give you anything. And then let me go back to Orb. I'll give you anything in exchange for letting me go."

"That's impossible." Athrun said stonily. "Because you can't give yourself to me if I have to let you go in exchange."

She drew in a deep breath. "It can be done. It already has been done. You've left a scar on me the way I've shaped you."

His eyes traveled to her collarbone, where it was covered by her blouse but he knew that a thin, almost indiscernible scar lay under it.

"Don't you see, Athrun?" She said wearily. "You already have me. I'll never be able to forget about you, I'll never rid my conscience or my consciousness of yo. Not this scar either-," She laid a hand on her collarbone and they both knew that the scar ran deeper than it seemed.

"You needn't be afraid that I'll lose the memories of you." Cagalli told him pleadingly. "Seven years proved that it was unlikely, and seeing you again proves that it's impossible."

He stared at her, unable to speak because his throat was constricted as if someone had an iron grip around it.

"Isn't it enough?" Cagalli said brokenly. "Isn't it enough that you've managed to leave a mark on me and that I will never be free from you because of it? Isn't it time that you accept our fates and let me go?"

"No." His voice was calm, but there was something in it that cried out, a masked mention that gripped her and made her look directly at him. "It isn't enough until you give yourself to me- willingly, completely. Call it a conquest, call it anything. I don't want anything from you, Cagalli. How many times must I say this? I don't want anything from you- I want you. But what more do you want of me? What more must I give for me to have you?"

Cagalli looked at him directly. She had been waiting for this moment. "Information. Tell me about the on goings that have happened outside The Isle, those pertaining directly to Orb and the Earth Alliance. Tell me what Orb is doing, what Scandinavia's doing, what their affairs are like at this point. I want to know."

He let go of her hand, stumbling back into his room. She followed after him, watching as he sat heavily on his bed.

When he spoke, there was frustration in his voice. "I can't. If I do, you'd want to go back even more. You wouldn't be able to sit still and stay on The Isle for the next three months. You'd become even more determined to escape."

"I won't." She assured him, lying even though she knew he was unlikely to believe her. "I just need to know- just to reassure myself that I'm in the know."

"But I don't have the power to give you that information even if I wanted to." Athrun said somberly. "That information must be withheld from you at all costs- those were my instructions."

"But this isn't about the people who're giving you instructions anymore." Cagalli reminded him, a challenge in her voice.

Her eyes looked at him deliberately, and he saw both hollowness and steel in them that existed, a dialectic that had driven her forward for seven years and would possibly continue to do so until she breathed her last.

"You said that yourself." She said firmly. "If you want something from me, this is your time to take it. As long as you give me that information, I'll give you what you want in exchange for it. I can't go back to Orb with just that information, so you have little to lose with this."

He remained silent for a long time. She merely stood, watching him. The room was half dark and half light with the moon's casting of itself over them, and he was sure now, that both of them were mad. It was the moon- this lunacy, this complete giving in to their motivations and the trading in of their sanity.

For Cagalli took a step forward, and then another, and suddenly, she was crouching above him, for she had pushed him to lie on his back. He was stunned, unable to speak while she bent slowly, her golden hair brushing lightly hoer his face as she kissed him slowly.

It was a soft, lingering kiss, a strangely reckless one that had hints of suggestion in it as she parted his lips with her mouth and explored tenderly. He remained numb, unfeeling to her, and eventually, she moved away, staring at him with some uncertainty.

"What in the blazes do you want of me?" He said helplessly, not bothering to conceal his emotions at that point.

He could barely think straight. He suddenly realized how well she fit into his arms, like a piece that had been removed and returned to him.

His mind was returning to the night when he could have taken her so easily, so quickly, before he would have realized that they were both making a mistake-

She was resting her head against his shoulder. And Cagalli's eyes were bright and mischievous. Her mouth- it was plump and sweet, mewling if he kissed her and took too much air at one time.

It was a strange smile that he had never quite seen before or thought she was capable of administering. A strange, sultry smile that made him wonder if he had underestimated her and overestimated himself.

"Athrun," She whispered. He wondered if the gulp he had heard was part of his imagination or a sound that his own mouth had produced.

Cagalli's fingers trailed spider lines down his lips, and her voice seemed to melt into the air in the very moment that she let her words flow from her soft lips. "Will a kiss be enough for information?" She trailed off hesitantly, suddenly losing her nerve.

"Cagalli-you-," His voice was hushed with desire and anger. Immediately, she faltered- she had not expected to anger him although surely, it was justified.

"I thought," She said hesitantly, sitting up now, "I thought it would be enough. The other time, when you agreed to give me information about the manor and The Isle, you asked for a kiss."

"Do you think that it will be enough now?" Athrun asked soberly. "It won't be. I won't accept this game you want to play. I can't give you information that I myself have no liberty to dispense."

She was too dangerous. He knew how his heart had beat, how it had thrashed against his throat when she had kissed him and asked him to trade information. She wanted to do that again. What more? She would be asking for his life next in exchange for a kiss, and he would be tempted to give it.

Even now, he was tempted to die for her, if she would only put her arms around him and tell him that she loved him. This was not something he could risk.

So Athrun stood up, pushing her away. "Tomorrow, we'll be back at The Isle. I recommend that you make the necessary mental preparation- I will be a far less tolerant of your attempts to escape this time. The twins and Epstein will watch your every move, even when you are asleep."

She stared at his back in frustration. "Athrun-,"

"No." He said softly, cutting her off. "There's nothing more to be said."

* * *

Sheba turned sharply into a corridor, saluting as the Head of the Swedish Royal Guards looked at her with a bored expression on his face. Sheba looked at him fearlessly, nodding as he asked if she had recovered sufficiently. In his mind, the Head thought that Ola Gudmund, the chief bodyguard of the Crown Princess, had been in a shooting incident.

This was actually true, although it had been orchestrated by Ola herself.

Three bullets in the leg was nothing when Sheba wore a bulletproof suit even to sleep. But when she had been shot the other time, she had made sure that nobody except three other guards knew that there was actually no intruder in the Swedish Crown Princess' quarters. These three other guards knew that the Princess' chief bodyguard had not really been injured, and they all knew that she had ordered one of them to fire a few bullets at her leg.

That was the way the Eyes functioned- as a team, with perfectly-coordinated networks and seamless actions down a line of people who operated on a single order from the top. There was a strict hierarchy that Plant had incorporated into its politics, despite the claims that the Coordinator society was made of equal Coordinators. And the Eyes were a league unto themselves- they were the Intelligencers that even most of Plant's parliament was not aware of.

Sheba took a glance at the tags she wore over her crisp white shirt, her black blazer framing her height as she walked briskly down the hallway, saluting at whoever she needed to. Her picture had been taken as Ola Gudmund, and she had been assigned an identification number- although the woman in the picture looked nothing like her when she peeled away the last layers of disguise.

As she turned into yet another hallway, a man with nondescript brown hair and rather ordinary features passed her and she saluted, as he did. In this palace, Niklolai Lio, her third aide, did not know her personally.

Sheba ignored him for most part while she was working. Zechariah Houfer and Hideki Clarriker as well. As she passed the final hallway into the innermost of the Crown Princess' chambers, she noted that there was no bustling and little signs of any activity. Perhaps her mistress was still sleeping- it was after all, seven in the morning and the maids had been instructed to let her sleep until late morning for her health's sake.

Frowning, she strode forward to the retina scan, letting it register the contact she had slid onto her pupil. As the bodyguard Ola, Sheba had established a solid relationship of trust and mutual respect with the Crown Princess. That woman was frail in body but certainly not in mind or spirit, and Sheba wondered if the loss of her husband had shattered or made the Crown Princess even more determined.

Now, the computer made a sound of acknowledgement and the doors slid open.

She faced a large living room, richly furnished with beautiful drapes and open windows that let the fresh air in. There were no maids pattering out to announce her entrance today- and Sheba sensed that there was something wrong.

She began to sprint into the rooms beyond the living room- and she knew then, that the dead silence meant more than quarters that had been kept silence for the Princess to rest.

And when she entered the innermost chambers the Princess lived in, Sheba found that she could not breathe.

Things were strewn everywhere, with books on all the tiles, flower petals and porcelain crushed on the floor, a white shoe left behind, a shoe that Freja Magdalena had been wearing.

The Crown Princess was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Three days later, Cagalli was lying in bed, locked in a room she had been brought back to. Athrun had had her blindfolded when they arrived back at The Isle, and she had strained her ears, guided by his hands, trying to hear something beyond the gulls and the sea and the waves crashing upon the shore.

With him leading her, she had walked down step after step, leaving those sounds behind until suddenly, she knew that she was in the manor again. And even then, he had not taken off the blindfold but had made her walk forward, her shoes against a carpet and not sand now, and then she had heard a door unlocking, felt his hands pushing her in, and heard the door locking once more.

Now, she watched mutely as Cartesia made tea and poured it carefully into a dainty cup. She felt drained, as if someone had taken her apart and re-stitched her, and she found no energy to get up.

And so, she remained in that awkward position, half-lying, half-sitting up. It gave her the overall appearance of a broken doll that had been flung into a corner and forgotten.

The girl was pattering around, communicating with her sister with only her eyes, and Cagalli knew there was a code that she could not decipher. It was difficult to understand the maids' intentions, let alone those that their master had instructed them to act upon.

Cagalli tried to understand still.

"Cartesia." Cagalli said softly. "Sit down and talk to me."

"No, my lady," The girl answered fearfully. "I am not to do that. The master has instructed for me to keep away from you. Since he arrived home and received the news Epstein showed him, he-,"

She was silenced by Laplacia, who capped a hand over her sister's mouth.

And Cartesia, who had been so willing to sit and speak and tell Cagalli of so many things, seemed another stranger now. Her sister glanced at Cagalli hesitantly too, and Cagalli felt more alone than ever in the room she had been locked back in.

"Why?" She demanded. "Why are you doing this?"

"Your Grace," Laplacia said tearfully, "It is the instruction from our master."

Cagalli felt herself turning pale. "Does he trust me so little?"

An unlocking of the door made her sit up forcefully- she yanked the blanket off in the process and made as if to run towards the door, despite it being a good distance away that even a sprint would not suffice.

"What have you done to gain his trust?" Epstein said calmly, looking at her.

He stood, his back pressed against the door momentarily before he began to approach her. There was something different about him- something younger, something more haunted, and she wondered if it was her imagination.

Today, Epstein looked drawn and white, thinner than when she had last seen him. Had he been overworked while his master had taken her away? She looked at the dark circles under his eyes and how weary he seemed to be, like a child that had stared for hours at a window, waiting for something.

"Why are you here?" She managed, sinking back into the bed, weak with the effort and the rush of hope that had pounded into her veins and made her react on instincts alone. Her head was beginning to throb.

"To keep watch." Epstein answered directly, nodding and signaling to Cartesia that she could take her leave. "It is my hour now."

Cagalli bit back her anger and turned away. It was wrong to take her anger out on Epstein. He was only following orders and she did not want to antagonize her situation or their friendship.

Yet, there was a frustration that could take control of her if she wasn't careful. So she averted her eyes from his face and sat stiffly upon her bed. The twins were making preparations to leave, but their eyes were darting from Cagalli to Epstein.

Now, Cagalli realized that Athrun had his subordinates spy on each other even while working for him. Epstein was his spy, but Athrun had people spy on his spy too. He was not one who trusted- not when he had been so betrayed in the past.

She said brusquely to Epstein, "You can leave with them."

He seemed to understand her feelings and came towards her. His steps were hesitant though, as if she would spring upon him like a wild cat and claw him to pieces.

"I won't do anything, you know." She said bitterly. "He won't let me. Nor can I find enough resource or energy to plot and escape."

Esptein did not seem to be put off by her sour mood, but sat next to her, placing an arm over her securely. "Cagalli, don't blame him."

She looked at him mistrustfully, and he seemed to be hurt. He said slowly, "I'm not trying to defend him- I'm only trying to show concern for you."

She found his fingers brushing her fringe out of her eyes and his cool fingertips trailing across her forehead. At least she had not lost his friendship. He guided her head to his shoulder, letting her rest it there.

And Epstein said softly, "Trust him so that he can trust you."

"How am I to?" She said wanly. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"As we speak," Epstein whispered, lowering his voice as Laplacia made preparations to follow her twin out of the door, "He is pacing in his study. He has been doing this for an hour now."

Cagalli lifted her head, looking at Epstein carefully. And Cagalli saw unhappiness in his young face. She saw that he was burdened by Athrun's own unhappiness, and she felt a weight settle on her.

"It is my fault." Cagalli admitted, "I was foolish enough to provoke him. He was very kind to me, Epstein, but I chose to go against him so many times. Now, he will never trust me again."

The door's built-in locks opened and shut momentarily as Laplacia and Cartesia pattered out, wheeling away the utensils they had brought in to make tea. The scent of rose and strawberries, as well as butter cakes filled the white, steaming air, and Epstein let go of her momentarily.

He reached for a small, candied strawberry, transferring her head back to his shoulder and stroking her lips in the hopes of feeding her. There was a concern in his eyes that she felt touched at, for he was like a young boy who was trying to feed a sick, tired stray. Yet, his gentleness was to no avail, for she found no appetite.

"Surely you did not know that you were provoking him," Epstein said gently. "How could you? This happened some time ago, didn't it? When you made the decision to move on, how were you to know that he would have still cared and that-,"

"Epstein," Cagalli interrupted him, raising her head. "What are you saying? I don't understand-,"

"Well," He said in amazement, "I thought you were aware of why my master is in such a temper. He has not spoken of it, but it is clear that he was unhappy about the news he received upon his return."

"News?" She echoed, still not understanding. "What news?"

His eyes regarded her with confusion. "Why, news of your engagement to Britannia's Prime Minister, of course."

* * *

In the evening, Athrun visited her.

She had expected this- she had been waiting for him.

She had already prepared herself, all while the maids had collected the tea things and Laplacia had left, leaving Cartesia to watch over their master's captive. Cagalli had ignored her for most part, sitting on her bed and thinking, planning and plotting.

But she had fallen asleep, and at that point, it did not occur to her that he had come into her room and re-secured the door.

She had been dreaming of a garden she had once seen somewhere, a garden filled with roses and a soft bunny toy being pressed into her hand. She did not like it- she shook her head, trying to push it away. The boy smiling at her had a weak, white face she disliked- he smiled wider and she smelt the roses in the air.

And she suddenly awoke to the scent of his aftershave and the memory of a rose's fragrance filling her senses. Then she knew that had been asleep for quite some time. Surely she must have slept, for when Epstein had left, the maids had returned. What had they done? She couldn't remember- she had tried to convince one to let her out of the room. Her requests had become demands as she lost her resolve to stay calm, but then-

She stared blankly, blinking blindly. She couldn't remember.

The twins had probably bathed her and dressed her in a fresh dress and guided her back to her bed without her being fully aware of it. She was in a white muslin shift now, and she did not recall wearing it while having tea with Epstein. Before that-

She couldn't remember either. Strange.

Now, Athrun stood before her, a single white rose in his hand, and there was no expression on his face. She had detected the rose's scent and it had stirred the memories of the garden. The Seirans' rose garden, actually. Her father had pledged her as Yuna's playmate, although she had not understood the deeper implications of what it meant to tumble around in the grass, being forced to play hide and seek with the Seiran's only son.

Yuna had been a selfish child, bullying the servants' children, forcing them to give him piggybacks and their parents too, whipping the crawling children around with sticks he picked up. Cagalli had had her hair pulled by him, for it had been long once and tied with brightly-colored ribbons. Yuna had already been a tall boy, albeit one with a weak jaw and sly eyes, and she was such a small child that kicking and biting at him was futile. He found her every time she was forced to hide from him- and the rose bushes had scratched at her arms and face while he hauled her out, laughing and crowing to the other children that he had found his playmate. She had bitten his hand once, and he had slapped her in his rage, and she had ran away, hiding herself, sobbing even though she wasn't sorry she had bitten him and he had slapped her.

She hadn't thought of Yuna since he had died. She did not feel compassion for a man she despised, but that was another death and another stain on her hands that she did not want to remember.

Now, it occurred to Cagalli that she had never understood any man in her life. Not her father, not her twin, not Yuna Roma Seiran, and certainly not Athrun Zala.

Athrun's eyes regarded her coolly, and she realized how close he was standing. He had teased her senses while she had been in slumber, leaving the rose near her for her to stir and wake to its scent. But when she looked at him, she saw that he was careful to hide any clear emotion from his face.

He was guarding himself from her.

Drowsy with sleep, she struggled to open her eyes wider, rubbing to try and keep alert. The twins were nowhere in sight, even though they had stayed around to watch her being comforted by their master's other aide. Had they told Athrun of this? It occurred to her that the twins had given her more than just tea- surely, this heavy, comforting sensation was that of being sedated.

She could recall, very vaguely, a time when she had sat all day long doing nothing, staring into space, unaware of the bandages she wore. The doctors had given her heavy sedatives at someone's order to keep her from hurting herself. And when she finally regained herself, she had forgotten that unhappiness- working to keep her from remembering. But what she kept locked in her heart and her mind, her body still knew. This sluggish, doped feeling was familiar.

This was a similar nightmare to the past.

In that drowsy, heavy moment, she wondered if time had turned back. Had she been brought to The Isle only yesterday?

Frightened now, she glanced at her collarbone and found the scar there, but she was not bandaged and her orientation of time was righted then.

His eyes were staring straight at her, and she flinched.

"I'm not here to make things difficult for you." He told her simply. "This is the last time I will set eyes on you. After this, you will not see me again. Tomorrow, you will leave the Manor and be put in someone else's care."

She tried to speak but found that she could not. He was ruining all her plans. She lay there, unable to say something, unable to apologise if he wanted an apology, unable to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"But before that," Athrun said wearily. "I need you to answer my questions."

He stepped closer and she looked at him dully. He began to sit on her bed and force her to sit upright, but she found that she was not frightened.

She knew what to say to him. She knew what she would make him do.

In her mind, she was still bandaged, she had returned to two separate moments that had been merged into a single one now. She was thinking of the moment when she had awoken to find herself bloodied and bruised, a person's blood on her hands, she the survivor because she had chosen to kill, and Athrun standing by her side, throwing away flowers she was allergic to, telling her that there was a price for everything.

This was the only way to survive on The Isle.

"Ask and I will give you answers if I have them." She said softly, "But in return, promise me that you will hear my proposal after you have gotten the answers."

A wary look came over into his eyes, but she knew he would agree. This time, it was she who had information he wanted.

"Fine." He said curtly. "Tell me why you gave your hand to James Marlin."

She had been prepared for this the minute Epstein had told her that Athrun had shown anger at the news reports that his ward had collected for him while they were away.

"He kept silent for a very long time." Epsten had revealed. "And then he ordered me out. The only reason why I'm saying all this is because I want you to know that he cares more than you think. He cares more than I know, probably, more than I'm allowed to know."

Cagalli was going to make use of this now.

"The papers I've collected," He said breathing heavily, "Inform me that he is someone you got engaged to some time ago."

"As all political marriage usually go." She told him calmly. Her lies were only a means to an end. "To hold my power, I must marry by my twenty-sixth birthday and produce an heir, since I must continue the Atha line to remain in power. You know this as well as I do."

"Why him?" Athrun asked tensely.

"He was the most suitable candidate." Cagalli said simply. "That is all."

"Why did the media only release this information recently?" Athrun said abruptly. "If there had been an engagement in the past, as they now claim, wouldn't they have reported it?'

There was a lurking suspicion in his eyes and she knew that it would not do to let him probe too much into the matter.

Swallowing, she said steadily, "The Orb Parliament controls the press. It was advised by the Council of Elders that the engagement be used as a trump card, and it was kept secret."

"Trump card?"

"For a time when Orb would weather problems. The announcement of an engagement and marriage would distract from the problem, if there were such a situation."

She was actually telling the truth now. If she had gotten engaged, it would be kept secret until the news could be used to the government's advantage- there was a calculation and a purpose to every aspect of her life that she herself had no control over. The Council of Elders, a gathering of the other Nobles from the other houses, would decide which men she could see, which man she would marry, even which heir would take the throne.

Athrun himself knew that. He had known it so long ago. It had sealed his decision to renounce his name and become Alex Dino, her bodyguard- not so much because he wanted to forget his father, as Cagalli had assumed. It had been the only way he could have been with her.

Not that it made any difference now, he thought bitterly.

He recalled the reports he had seen. He had been collecting those over the years, keeping track of her for his duty's sake but taking a personal interest in those. He was furious now, that he had somehow neglected the reports that he had dismissed as idle rumors.

After all, it was common for the media to spy on the Orb Princess- these seven years had seen them making bets on who she would marry to fulfill her duties.

Picture after picture of her with different men, candidates, he knew, had been published. Cagalli Yula Atha, dining with the Head General of Orb, Cagalli Yula Atha giving her hand for the top American diplomat to kiss. Cagalli Yula Atha, wearing an exquisite kimono the Japanese Prince's had personally chosen and presented to her, he looking positively smitten. Cagalli Yula Atha, strolling with the Britannian Prime Minister in the royal parks while visiting London. There were so many powerful, charismatic and attractive men who wanted the Orb Princess' hand. Too many men, too many candidates.

In the past, Athrun had suspected that the Orb Parliament allowed those to be published to persuade the public that she was keen on fulfilling her duties, lest they accuse her of wanting to keep power entirely to herself.

Now, he was cursing his carelessness. There were more reports of Marlin accompanying the Orb Princess to various functions than any other man. He should have seen the truth amidst the clever ruse the Orb Council of Elders had used. Hadn't the reporters taken photos of them looking closer than she had ever been with any other man? Hadn't her general tolerance towards those reports been something uncommon as compared to how strict she had been when the papers had suggested her being with other random candidates in the past?

For that matter, hadn't Cagalli spoken of 'Jimmy' when she had been intoxicated at Rochester's estate? So many pieces were coming together now.

She was looking at him quietly. "The Council of Elders must have released this piece of information because it is a crucial time for Orb now. Perhaps they are demanding that a new leader is elected in light of my disappearance- and perhaps this is to distract them from the issue at hand."

"How like Orb." He said sarcastically. "Always so open and so trusting of the public's opinion towards its government."

She shrugged. "The best way to do things isn't always necessarily the most morally correct way."

His eyes darkened, and he reached forward, gripping her shoulders.

"Tell me if you love him." He demanded.

"That is not the issue at hand." Cagalli said simply, quietly. "He is the most suitable person to fulfill my duties with. The elders chose him from all the others because he is the person Orb will benefit the most from. I am not adverse to him either."

She stared up at him, and for once, he could not read her mind. She was reading his. He hated her then. He wanted to tell her how much she'd hurt him, how much he wanted to turn back time, but perhaps she already knew. Perhaps she was already using it against him.

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" He said, a rage building up in him. "Why didn't you tell me? When you asked me for information, the night before we came back to The Isle, were you thinking of returning to him? When you told me that I meant something to you, were you lying to me so that I'd trust you and let you go back to Orb- to him?"

His voice was growing louder and strained, and she knew that he had been baited. Cagalli drew in a breath, praying for the courage to lie to him and to save them both.

Then she wrapped her arms around him and pulling him to her as they sank into her bed. She caught him by surprise, and she had hoped to pin him down, but his instincts were so honed that she was the one who found herself lying on her back. He stopped himself from crushing her with his weight, crouching above her, supporting his weight with his forearms and knees.

She reached up to him and stroked his face with his hands, bringing him into a stunned silence.

"Does it matter?" Cagalli said softly. "Does all this matter anymore? I'm here, aren't I? I can't return to him, can I?"

There was something different about her now, he saw that immediately. He had lost control, but she had gained it. She was in a more submissive position, but she had the upper hand, and he was aware of it.

She began to undo the top few buttons of his shirt and she placed her warm, throbbing lips to his cool neck and collarbone. Her hands wandered to the underside of his shirt as she pulled it loose, running her hands over his flesh to feel his abdomen. There was a recklessness in her as she stroked his cheek with her finger, and he was seized by an unbearable lust.

"Will you hear my proposal now?" She said huskily. Her naturally mellow, alto voice dipped in pitch, and he felt the air compress around him.

"No," He said fitfully, pulling her hands away although he did not get off and away from her. There was a certain dominance in his position, and he would make full use of that to extract information. "I haven't finished asking."

Her eyes surveyed him with a calm steadiness. He felt like she was mocking him, mocking the fact that he was so worked up over something he could not change.

"How long have you been with Marlin?" He asked quietly. "As man and wife?"

She looked at him confidently, only that she had never been a good liar with him, and the sultriness had a hint of uncertainty in her. He did not see the hesitation in her, however, for he was too intent on hearing her answer.

"Two years now, although we haven't been officially married." Cagalli said. She manipulated her tone and expression now, telling Athrun him carelessly. "Still, we are to marry, and these plans have already been accepted by the Orb Royals, the Council of Elders and Marlin's own minders. Surely that warrants unfettered excess to each other?"

She was lying to him about her engagement to Marlin because of two main reasons- she wanted to have some kind of information that he did not have. It would serve to her advantage.

Secondly, she had wanted to gauge his reaction to her telling him that she had been with Marlin. Clearly, Athrun had been jealous. A jealous person could be easily goaded into wanting something it did not have yet even if had to trade it more than what was reasonable or fair. She was only setting up the stage for the moment when she told him of her proposal- and this time, she had information he did not and she was a step ahead of him.

"Unfettered excess." He said numbly. "He must have had you already. Was that why you couldn't love me in return?"

"No," Cagalli said tersely. "Until we are officially married, he keeps out of my affairs."

"Affairs?"

"Surely I don't have to explain myself any further?" She said wryly. "You were probably an experienced lover even when we first met."

She ran her smooth hand to his collarbone and traced a finger down his chest, until he knocked her hand away.

"Tell me," He interrupted. "Tell me how you met him."

Cagalli was prepared for this. She had thought of everything to say, everything she would tell him to lead him into her proposal. She looked at him directly, for that was the best way to lie.

"We were acquaintances for some time, and then we were engaged in secret, with the blessings of our countries. The people have not been informed it yet. However, he visits the Atha Estate as frequently as he can."

Despite every effort to prevent himself, Athrun thought of her, soft, welcoming body, imagining her panting and letting another man make love to her, one who had the right to touch her, to possess her and to hold her and watch her fall asleep. Athrun could imagine what it would be like for Britannia's Prime Minister- a man who wielded the power that Orb wanted its hands on. A man who like so many others, had become besotted with the Orb Princess and had the fortune of marrying her without realizing that she was already married to her country.

And yet, Athrun understood why James Marlin had been willing to do all this- to visit his fiancée in secret, to hide from the press, to subject himself to Orb's wishes, to align himself with the Orb Council of Elders' traditions and secrets. What for? Why, simply the chance to enter that estate, through the tall, iron gates and to knock on that door and be received by a woman like her!

"As frequently as he can?" Athrun breathed. He was suffocating from his pain and the thought of her with another man.

She stared at him, a trace of rebelliousness coming into the shape of her mouth. He reached his hand to her lips wildly, stroking her mouth, watching as she flinched.

"Then that's just as good." He said impulsively. His expression grew stubborn and he began to smile, only that it was filled with a searing, wild misery.

His hands found her shift, and swiftly, he untied the straps that held it in place. The cloth loosened in his hands although he did not continue to pull it completely loose. And she kept still, determined not to waver. This had been what she planned, she told herself firmly. There was no way to back out of it.

"I'm going to show you that I need you more than Orb or Marlin ever will." He told her. There was an insane rage in his eyes that belied his true feelings, however. "If you've been with him, then it's all the better for me. You'll know that he was nothing because he only wanted you for your power.

"You underestimate me," She retorted, impassioned by her pride. "I may have married him as a trophy wife, but in no way am I one."

"I know." Athrun said directly, surprising her. He smiled again, this time, a smile that sent a wave of want and electricity through her- an animal's smile that changed what she understood of him suddenly.

"You don't love him, nor do you see him as your equal. It's precisely because I know, that I'm going to make love to you, not as someone who wants your power, but as someone who wants _you_."

She felt a frisson of fear and desire run through her. Perhaps it was true, how she had never been able to love Marlin, because he was not a man who could make her forget Orb. Neither was he a man who she felt an emotional connection with- he was too handsome, too charming, too clever, too much of everything, too perfect. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he would never understand how she struggled. He had never struggled in his life before.

The man who was kissing her lips now, however, was something very different. This man had his scars, his flaws, a cruelty to him that ran in his blood despite his nature as one with a strong, fair heart. She lay there, responding to him, touching his face, running her hands over his shoulders, enjoying his warmth despite the situation and the deceit that sullied everything. She was pulling him into a trap, and he was falling for it. Yet, he was still dominating her, and she found that she was pleased by it.

It showed from how she lay on the bed, how she allowed him to be above her, where he was clearly in power. It was exceedingly clear that he had the advantage of strength, cunning and information whereas she did not.

But Cagalli had yet to make her proposal- and from the looks of it, he was actually playing along into her hands. That was all she needed to do for now; to lead him into agreeing to let her go.

She watched numbly as he moved over her, letting his weight sink over her now, no longer consciously keeping away from her. His arms found hers as he pinned her down, although she did not struggle. With some surprise, he looked at her, and she shocked him even further by seizing his mouth with hers.

But for Cagalli, it was what she had wanted for so long. Those white, perfect forearms felt as she had imagined- today, she would be able to touch him without hesitation. And her hands ran across those forearms, fingering the veins and tautness of the limbs that held her as well.

If only he wanted her, she thought miserably. If only he wanted her for being someone he loved, not because his pride had been hurt by her revealing that she had married someone else for power but refused to give in to their desires for the sake of keeping that same power.

She folded her arms around Athrun, bringing them up to his shoulders and neck. Almost carelessly, he slid his hands up her sides, across the downy, bared back that her shift revealed, fingering the straps of the dress that did not sit on her shoulders but now hung off her arms. He pulled those down a little lower, and her neckline dipped even more. Any more, and her breasts would be visible.

When they finally parted for the necessity of air, she was gasping slightly. His eyes were narrowed, that strange, oddly-beautiful half-smile lingering near his lips. "Was that your idea of a seduction?"

It was obvious that he could seduce her without trying, whereas the opposite was true for her.

But he held on firmly and crushed her towards him, daring her to disobey his will. His voice tickled her earlobe and she trembled.

"Ah, but weren't you the one trying to seduce the Orb Princess?" She murmured. Her voice was rough, although she wasn't acting at all. "Surely, you don't want the people giving you orders to find us rolling around on the bed?"

Athrun bared his teeth in a strange, ghoulish grin. It suited him- she thought dazedly, anything suited him. "If I had any less regard for duty and both our situations, I would have taken you to bed a long time ago."

"Was your duty the real reason why you didn't, that night at Rochester's?" She asked, a little taken aback.

"No." He said simply. He looked at her seriously for a moment, admitting more than he wanted to. "At that point, it was to heck with duty. You surprised me, actually. I always thought you would be too reserved- too pious, too careful of the implications of your status as the Orb Princess, to have a casual relationship with a man. I assumed that you weren't looking for a casual relationship actually. I couldn't bear the thought of bringing you to my bed and leaving you in the morning. But when I realised that all you wanted was a casual relationship to forget your pain, I knew I had to stop it."

She was privately touched by this.

"Even now," He said teasingly, brushing his lips against her shoulder, running his fingers along its smooth, spherical surface. "I never thought you would want this- I assumed you were waiting for me to seduce you."

"What makes you think I was waiting for you to seduce me?" She said impetuously. "Haven't you realized that it's the other way around this time?"

He remained silent, although his eyes darkened. It was true- she was clearly teasing him, tempting him. But then, so was he. It occurred to him now, that they were testing each other with very dangerous tools of deception and desire.

"Athrun," She said hesitantly, "You've had your answers. Now listen to my proposal."

He looked at her with a hint of impatience, a desire in his face that made her realize how susceptible he was to her. With some guilt, she led him on, putting her finger near his bottom lip and stroking it until he yanked her hand away, holding it in his hand.

"Why now?" He said directly, suspecting what was actually the truth. "Why don't we wait until we finish what has been going on for far too long?'

She wanted to. She would have liked to be with him, to be his lover and to give him the happiness he deserved. But this was the only way to give them both their release, she thought painfully. This was the only way.

So Cagalli looked at him and said simply, "But that's part of my proposal."

He stared, not understanding.

"I'll give you anything you want if you agree to release me from The Isle."

His eyes widened suddenly. He saw that she was not struggling, he saw that there was a calmness in her eyes, the way he had seen people look while they had knelt and waited for their turn to be shot. She was an animal, a sacrifice- she was sacrificing herself, and he saw that she was making use of his feelings for her.

At that point, it should have been enough.

How dare she assume he could be bought over with her flesh, how dare she assume it was enough when he had given up nearly everything Athrun Zala had for her heart?

He should have gotten away, left and locked the room until it was time to hand her over, whereby he would never see something that could destroy him ever again.

But he gazed down at her and ran his hands across her abdomen, feeling the warmth of her flesh rise from beneath the thin white muslin shift. He could not resist her. Her breasts were nearly visible, and a single yank of the material would reveal them if he wanted. Looking at her sent hives down his back, a need so great he nearly bit his lips. The last time he had had a woman had been far too long ago. The only woman he had ever wanted was now in front of him, and yet, there was a price to her.

"Give me the information." She repeated. "I'll give you anything."

He tested her now.

"Even your body?"

He looked at her, and she watched as his face lost its calm, measured nature and changed. There was a numb, cold anger about it, and he moved off as she sat up.

"Will you not understand?" He said grimly. She had hurt him so many times- but this was the most agonizing. She had never wanted him- she had only been making use of him.

He stood, massaging his temples. "You need only stay six months. No less. Your desperation provokes me- it sickens me."

She stood as well, mute for a second, one second where she thought she would die from the hurt and the humiliation. But then she moved to him swiftly, her lips against his warm throat because she was not as tall as him and could not kiss him as easily as he could her. Her breasts were pressing against his chest, and he felt himself tighten. Against his will, he caressed her back, her smooth, white back that promised to be even silkier between the sheets of his bed and against the rough pads of his fingers.

"You can say or think anything you like of m. But I'll do anything," Cagalli promised. Her voice was hoarse. She was begging. "Please. Just take what you want and let me go back to Orb."

"You would even let me take you to bed?" He said darkly. "Are you so desperate for an early release from The Isle?"

She drew in a deep breath, knowing what she had to do. Acquiescence was necessary for her to win this gamble and return. "I don't care. I need to go back to Orb as soon as I can. One night- you can do anything you want. And then let me go."

"And what about your fiancée?" Athrun asked sardonically. "I reckon that the Britannian Prime Minister wouldn't like to find that his wife-to-be became her captor's lover. I'd be hanged- you'd be reduced to a common whore. Of course, I'm assuming that you have to display a bloody sheet the morning after the wedding. But isn't it a valid assumption? What else would get Orb its investments and more military power from Britannia?"

He looked at her with contempt, taunting her.

"No," She lied wildly. "I was experienced even before him."

He looked at her with some surprise, and then a growing realization. This recklessness had probably been shown to others. Perhaps, Cagalli had been stripped her title and her responsibilities along with her clothes during the night, driven by her loneliness and yet, unable to love. Athrun was now thinking of how easily she had offered herself to him that night at Rochester's- how easily she had gotten tipsy.

For Cagalli, she could see doubt in his eyes, and while she felt mortification at his thinking that she was easy, she knew it was necessary.

"No." He said eventually. "I won't accept your proposal."

"Why?" She said exasperatedly.

He looked at her savagely, and she felt herself become defensive. Surely, her inexperience and ignorance was not so clear? She decided to push her lies further.

"Perhaps you deem me unfit as a lover?" Cagalli said boldly. Her arms around his neck circled him tighter as she stared stubbornly at him. "Marlin did not think so. He told me otherwise, as the others have."

Athrun stared at her, not really believing her. Unlike what she believed, he was not disgusted at what she was saying- but he was surprised, nonetheless.

"Besides," Cagalli said softly, "There's only one way to prove that I can please a man, even one as experienced as you. If you accept my proposal-,"

"That's not the issue." He interrupted. He felt his anger and lust boiling like warm, feverish blood. The thought of her with another only because that man was of use to Orb, made him sick to the stomach.

Now he found resentment springing in him.

He wanted to have her more than ever, because he wanted to prove that she wanted him, that he mattered to her more than Orb ever would, and that he was the only man who he deserved her.

At the same time, he didn't want to let her do this. If she didn't love him, nothing he did would change that. He loved her even if she didn't love herself, and for that, he couldn't let her do this.

So he looked at her coldly, unwinding her arms and going to sit by the bed, leaving her standing there. His voice was taut with unhappiness, but he did not know how to mask it.

"Having you in my bed is not worth the information about the damn Isle, its whereabouts, its nature, every single thing about that wretched place. You're not worth the trouble. Your judgment was poor when it came to your own value."

She stared at him, her eyes beginning to redden, and she bit her lips, trying not cry. She wondered what he would have thought of her if she hadn't lied to him and told him that she was an experienced lover. He would have been even less agreeable to considering the proposal.

But he looked at her and suddenly, his eyes softened. "You're worth more than the information about this damned place."

Cagalli took a step closer, hesitant. But she had also underestimated the extent of his need for her. In a fluid, forceful movement, Athrun pulled her closer to him, cradling her as she settled on his lap, not by choice, but by the force of his motion.

And Athrun kissed her gently on her forehead.

She strained up to him, tense with longing and she buried her face near his neck. Her hands splayed on his chest, and her breathing was in tandem with his. "Athrun, please, I want this-"

He disentangled her roughly although he did not push her away. He could not find the strength to do so. "If you want to exchange something, I'm not the person you can gain anything from."

"Why?" She said desperately.

"I want nothing more of you." He said dully. "Nothing more that you can give."

"Why do you say that?" She said in dismay. "Were you leading me on and making me believe that you wanted me?"

He looked at her grimly. "I'm not capable of that when it comes to you, Cagalli. By now, if you haven't learnt that I don't merely want your body, then you disappoint me."

"So you do want me then," She challenged. "Why don't you accept my proposal? If you just take it, you would have gained something you never had. Why not then?"

He shook his head, looking at her with sadness in his face. She could not bear it.

"If you can't let me go back before the six months are up, why don't you give me the information that I want?" She pleaded, hoping for anything now. "I only need to know what Orb is doing now, what its situation is like now. Give it to me, because I cannot leave Orb with just that information. You risk little."

This was untrue. He knew all the risks behind revealing that classified information. If the Eyes found about this- heck, if their superiors heard about this, he would be in a predicament that would cost him a great deal.

"What will you exchange?" He said coldly. "Your body still?"

"No," She said hoarsely, abruptly.

If Athrun took her to bed, he would surely realize that she had never been touched by anyone else before. That was not so much of a problem- the problem was that she had lied to him and told him that she was experienced. In doing that, Cagalli believed that had made herself more desirable than she could ever be.

If she slept with him, Athrun would mock her, surely, and he would realize that nobody had really wanted someone like her. If he took her to bed only once and let her leave right after that, she would leave with a shred of dignity yet. If she slept with him and had to face him for the rest of the time, she would die of the humiliation.

She would have to face him every day for the rest of the months, with him aware that she was nothing but a façade in more ways than one. As the Orb Princess, she had failed. He would know that she had failed as a woman too. She could not allow him to see her fail in this aspect as well.

"No." Cagalli said again. An obstinate, obtuse look was coming into her face. "Not unless you let me go back immediately after one night."

"But that's impossible, since I won't let you return until six months are over. So what can you give then?" He said tauntingly. "Your wealth? Your military secrets?'

"If you want those," She said helplessly. "I am willing."

He laughed. He stood there and laughed, a bitter, quiet chuckle. His eyes were like cold chips in his face, and she saw cruelty in his expression. "You have nothing left, Cagalli. I already told you. You cannot trade when there is nothing more of you that I want."

"Half of me," She said abruptly, desperately. "You can have half of me if you will trade it for the information."

His laughter died away and he looked at her. A strange expression lurked in him but she was too frantic, too flustered to understand what it was.

So when he nodded slowly, she was too relieved to understand that pain and disappointment had filled him when she had pressed on, insulting his love by offering herself for information.

Athrun stared at her and found a very pleasurable but somehow uncomfortable rush to his loins. But he hated her suddenly, hated himself for even loving her.

He chuckled softly to disguise his disconcertment. "You are not a fool- I wouldn't have loved you if you had been that. Surely, you know the implications of what you are offering. Do you really want to play this game?"

Cagalli nodded. "I'll give you what you want."

In a matter of a moment and a quick push, he had forced her to lie on the bed, moving over her as he had previously, but this time locking her under him and snaking a hand to her waist, trailing it up to her chest. He peeled open her loosened shift, but did not reveal her breasts entirely, for that would have been agony for him. He slid a hand beneath the flap of cloth to cup her, watching how she flinched. His palm met not her bare flesh, but another layer of binding. He exhaled, the binding reminding him that he could not be impatient but had to take her slowly. "Then I want to touch you."

Cagalli looked at him shyly, with some fear. In that sort lapse of focus, she had lost her nerve. It was all she could do to keep from pushing him away in fear that he would find out that no other man had come so close to her.

"But-," She said in a small voice, "You already have. And you are now-," She blushed deeper and lowered her head while he smiled and shifted his hand to her cheek, stroking it. She was still sitting on his lap, and she could feel him stir, making her nervous but strangely excited.

"Not properly," He whispered. "I have never touched you properly."

He knew she was frightened, and suddenly, it did not disturb him but gave him pleasure to watch her discomfort.

There was, after all, a very thin line between love and hatred.

"I want you to bare yourself for me. Completely. Let me see you." He told her. "I want to touch those and have you watch me, sober, awake, knowing that you were the one who gave, and I did not take without you giving."

She bit her lips, unable to refuse now.

"As long as you give me the information I want, that's fine." She said hesitantly.

"I keep to my word." He said emphatically. "And in return, anything above your waist belongs to me now. You'll have dinner with me first, and then you'll prepare yourself and sleep in my room, in my bed from this night onwards."

She shook her head with mute fear, and then stammered, "I didn't agree to that- I,"

He leaned towards her with a small, bitter smile that still sent a thrill up her body. "I can't detach half of you off and keep it with me, can I?"

She was silent. She had promised him half of her, and she would have to keep to her word. It was becoming clear that he drove a hard bargain, but she could not refuse.

"I suppose you'll be afraid to carry out your side of the deal now." He said, taunting her, still hurt by her and wanting to hurt her in return. "Someone as-pious and as self-righteous as you, being by Athrun Zala's side. I am a fugitive, someone who the world has forgotten about but remembers only because of a lunatic father who sired him out of a need to answer to society. I am a man that Orb will never approve of, a man you can never approve of because Orb doesn't. But you'll be granting me favors, all by your own admission- the righteous Orb Princess who is to be married to one of the most powerful men in the world as part of her duties. Tell me, do you still want to play this game?"

She realized that she was trembling.

Her eyes pooled with tears even though she spoke rashly. "Consider it done."

* * *

Their dinner in her room was a tense affair. The maids brought in porcelain plates heaped with smoked meat and potatoes mashed into a cream. There were luscious peas and carrots lined around a snow-trout, and chocolate gateau with marzipan pearls in oyster shells for dessert.

The flowers were set beautifully, even more luxuriant than the usual.

All around her, there were sprays of vanilla dahlias and baby's breath with tiny white pigeon orchids, illuminated by cinnamon-scented candles.

But as Cagalli sat by the table, waiting for Athrun to arrive, she registered nothing of the sumptuous display.

The maids had brought in the golden dress that she had never wanted to see again. It was as if Athrun were taunting her, reminding her that he had had enough of women to not really need one like her. It was a reminder of how she had offered herself to him that night at Rochester's, and how he had pushed her away.

This evening, however, she was presented with a silk ribbon, a quail's egg ruby for her to wear around her neck. She had put everything on, understanding that he had ordered this and expected her obedience.

This was some kind of elaborate ceremony, she thought tensely, this parody of a romantic meeting for lovers.

It was poetic irony that she had spent so long preparing herself.

Cagalli never taken particular care with her appearance for all the other suitors who would have given her the world if she had asked for it.

But tonight, she had done everything in her power to make herself attractive for a man whom she could not afford to be attracted to. He would not give her back her world even if she begged for it- she would have to trick him into giving her information, little by little.

So Cagalli had taken extra care with everything tonight- putting on a perfume that she would have never worn, making some effort to do up the long hair that reached almost half of her back now. It was now in an elegant twist and secured with diamond pins.

She wore nothing on her face but a blood red for her lips. Cagalli wondered if she looked as stunning as Aaron had always insisted when she bothered at all. Perhaps, her best friend had only said all that out of obligation. Nothing she did could instill the confidence she wanted so badly tonight.

When she heard him entering, she looked up, just in time to see the maids leave quietly. Her expression in the vanity mirror on the other side of the room was a frantic, harassed one, despite her overall appearance.

Athrun, on the other hand, looked calm and collected, having taken a bath and appearing for dinner in a fresh set of clothes. He wore a plain white shirt, dark pants and no smile, no hint of warmth in him anymore. There was such casualness and ease to his demeanour that made his simple, crisp attire seem almost expensive and more elaborate than anything Cagalli had put on.

It was from this that Cagalli knew that he had, in no way, put in the effort that she had. In fact, he seemed to have put in none at all, as if he refused to.

She felt more self-conscious than ever, feeling like he'd played her out by refusing to disguise the sordid nature of the night. In doing so, he had shamed her even more. She felt like a harlot, dressed-up, lips reddened, nails painted scarlet, lingerie under a dress she did not feel she could wear. And this was all for his sake, while he maintained his dignity, as if he had merely arrived from work and slotted in an hour of time for her, at her request, as if he was a paying customer she had somehow ended up falling for.

And really, she thought desperately. This was probably the case.

Athrun barely looked at her, merely nodding curtly to show his approval before looking elsewhere. And he set himself to the meal, taking his own time to enjoy it. Cagalli on the other hand, found no will to do anything, save stare at him.

He ignored her throughout most of dinner and she could scarcely swallow anything. Her room looked sickeningly unfamiliar to her, and she was glad that she had not eaten anything.

She watched as he ate calmly.

There was veal, and he sliced it precisely, slowly, putting a small sliver into his mouth and chewing almost unnoticeably. He had beautiful manners, those of a cat, effortlessly dainty and naturally polished. But Cagalli was disconcerted by the way in which he ate; how he tasted the food, how he took sips of a deep burgundy wine, but seemed to find no joy in the meal.

It occurred to her that every delicacy that existed might have been placed before him, but he would eat only unhurriedly, politely and delicately. Athrun did not seem to find enjoyment in the finery he had been having all this time- he seemed to eat with a kind of tolerance rather than gusto. And the man before her did not seem to be one who ate for pleasure, but for the greater purpose of sustaining himself.

She thought of how he had looked at her when she had agreed to let him do what he wanted with her. There had been lust, an animal's drive, certainly, but not quite as much as bitterness, and sorrow.

There was neither been greed and gluttony in the manner in which he ate, nor the way he had looked at her. There had only been an inevitability in his eyes, as if he knew that this had been coming all along.

So Cagalli found herself wondering if he would find pleasure in touching her at all.

When he made love to a woman, she wondered, was he like a cat eating too? All immaculate, neat and very sparing, without much ado or any consideration for the environment or whoever who was before him?

Throughout the course of his meal and her watching of him eat, the tension had developed into something Cagalli was very unfamiliar with. There had been something sensual, something almost quixotic about the way he ate, despite its mechanic patterns. He had used the utensils almost surgically, working through the range almost methodically, and she had noticed but not registered this.

Without realising it, she had witnessed his feasting as she would a lion partake its meal, how it showed dominance over its prey. It both terrified and electrified her. For she had found herself wondering if he would consume her in such a manner, dominate both her will and body. Would he enjoy it and show it?

When she was conscious of these thoughts, Cagalli blushed and lowered her head, not daring to look at him.

Because she could not deny the thoughts about what he would do, Cagalli tried to remind herself that any gratification he might gain from her would be a coincidence rather than a conscious effort to please him on her part.

Whether or not he found pleasure was besides the issue. Cagalli would not go out of her way to please him. After all, they had agreed to this because there were mutual benefits both could gain- she ought not to care about his feelings or the benefits he gained as long as she gained what she had set out to have. She would shut her eyes tightly throughout the ordeal she would eventually have to face later, and she would see nothing and feel nothing.

But Cagalli's eyes wandered to his mouth and hands throughout the meal, the hands that smelt of clean soap, his mouth that bore witness to the anise, cinnamon and similar spices in his wine. He had a scented, sensual mouth that looked tender and soft, articulating words and pronouncing those beautifully. But it was also one that could be demanding, rough and even primitive.

And she was embarrassed by how she was fascinated by his mouth. For she didn't understand how she could be so fixated on something so- so undeniably physical about the man seated before her.

She lifted the goblet to her lips, not tasting but watching him. If she had tasted and registered, she would have known that she had not been served wine on Athurn's orders.

Cagalli did not have enough self-awareness to understand her own reaction to him. Since she had always distanced herself from the sensuality of human bodies, she could only make wild guesses as to how his body would feel against hers.

Her guesses were ill-informed; thanks to her alienating herself from the conversations she had no experience to share of. But she was sure about one thing- she did not want Athrun to guess that she was guessing her way about.

He would never see her as someone worthy of his attention ever again.

The truth was that Cagalli knew very little about these things. What she understood of the things that pleased a man were all from Aaron- who was gay and probably not the best representation of a man's tastes.

The other things that Cagalli knew about were all things she had listened rather unwillingly to. Some of her friends complained about their boyfriends periodically- from their lack of sensitivity and care, even their performances in bed. Cagalli did not like to hear about the emotional aspect of relationships, but she was even more eager to avoid hearing about the physical aspects.

The idea of sex both frightened and fascinated her- she was awkward and unwilling to hear or talk about it, although she did imagine what the deed would eventually be like at times. She couldn't help noticing those around her seemed to be having lives of scandal and intrigue; even the secretary a floor below her office with the love-bites on her neck.

Cagalli, on the other hand, wanted nothing of that. Granted, she had been attracted to plenty of men, but she always found a way to ignore or become immune to them. A tryst was out of the question, let alone a relationship- she did not want to entertain the idea of being involved with a man. When Marlin had proposed, it had been easy to dismiss him as another man who was being pushed around by his country or a man who was foolish enough to want her for power.

Perhaps, her inexperience and immaturity in matters such as these only stemmed from her assumption that she simply wasn't attractive as a woman.

As the Orb Princess, she was quite sure that she was attractive, only because Cagalli was convinced that men were attracted to power and a conquest that involved someone of her status.

But it seemed to her that no man would really love a woman like her beyond the fact that she was the Orb Princess. And therefore, she did not want to let any man close.

Even flings were unthinkable- without saying this to anyone, without even any semblance of self-awareness, Cagalli had always assumed that any man to be allowed close was a man she had to love first. Nobody had imposed that rule on her- she herself wasn't even aware that there wasn't such a rule. She simply assumed that any man she slept with had to be one she loved.

So now, she found herself in a terrible dilemma. It would have been foolish to lie and say that she wasn't attracted to him or that she didn't love him. But Cagalli was anxious to prevent him from discovering that she had never been touched. And that was why she couldn't let him take her to bed. He would realise that nobody really wanted her- and he would lose interest and care little for her.

And so, she trembled as he drank the last of his wine, set his utensils neatly on the plate, and dabbed his lips with a snow napkin, his eyes fixed on her face.

Her eyes gazed at him hesitantly. Her food was untouched, and his eyes lingered on it before moving to her face.

"It's getting late." Athrun said finally. This was the first thing he had said since coming into her room. "Come. I want to sleep."

His eyes studied her soberly, and she lifted her head, flinching. She wished he would look at her with something that she could hate him for, to think lowly of him for. But he gave her none of what she had expected from meeting so many men, and it confused her.

She imagined that he would lead her out of her room, towards a corridor. There would be no signs of anyone anywhere, nobody to save her from him and herself. He had spoken to her of the Wing he kept for business and one for private matters, and she wondered if how many other women he had led to his bedroom.

But when Athrun did not unlock the door, but led her to a wall at the far side of her room, she was surprised. The wall was one that she had never paid any attention to because it was curtained and there was apparently nothing there. But how wrong she had been!

"What is that?" She said uncomfortably, staring at the surface he revelaed by lifting the curtain out of the way.

He looked at her mildly, as if he were amused by her question. And she understood why as he lifted the curtain and produced a small, iron key.

In that moment, she understood.

With someone like him, how could he not have his way of entering her room without coming from another passage? He had always used the main entrance, that was true. But her experience and time with Rune Estragon should have shown her his cunning and his ways of entrapping a person the way a spider did its prey. How could she have failed to suspect that a passageway existed here?

His fingers traced an innocuous looking brick and he located a little opening that was almost invisible. He pushed the small key in, and the brick door slid open, a mosaic of cement and terracotta, grinding a bit noisily ad echoing into the tunnel before them.

The door had been part of the wall before this, chameleon-like with its texture.

And Cagalli she stared at the passageway that lighted up automatically. It was narrow, but adequate for a person to walk comfortably through it. Athrun took a step forward, leading the way, not looking at her. But he took her hand in his, guiding her in and shutting the door whereby it automatically locked. She would never return to that room.

And his hand was warm around her cold one and she felt the heat and electricity of her body responding to him, despite her fear. But she held her head high, her face blank although she was sobbing inwardly. His aftershave filled her senses, and she felt strange and light, even though something was aching in her.

She counted the steps. Cagalli knew then, that if he wanted to enter her chamber, all he had to do was to walk from his room to hers, through the passageway, and it would have been fewer than sixty steps.

The thought filled her with a strange apprehension that somehow seemed like anticipation.

Then he guided her through another door, into his room, and she stared, blinking blindly at the interior of his room, all while he locked the door they had previously entered.

She stared, looking at how sparse his room was, how empty and devoid of a human touch it seemed. There was a lone window, far at the end of the large room, but she could see nothing through it with all the curtains drawn. The air was scented with musk and perhaps vanilla, but she could not tell. It seemed unlikely that anyone even stayed here.

It was all done in a deep maroon and sepia that should have made the atmosphere comfortable. But even with the lighted candles, the warm glow did not suffice in making the cold vanish. There were no flowers in his room, no homely touch despite the richness of materials and his clearly impeccable tastes. There were no books or things haphazardly thrown around- there was a basket of apples on a small, beautiful table, but there was nothing welcoming about it. A chaise lounge sat at one side of the room, but no picture hung above it.

And Cagalli thought of a hotel room, furnished with lovely things that nobody would have any real attachment to it. It would be a place for temporary things, for time to simply pass, a place that was not worth remembering. And the thought of this made her distressed, despite her insistence that such a deal had nothing to do with feelings.

"Athrun," She whispered, feeling like an intruder, "Is this your room?"

Nothing in it looked as if it belonged to him. Not even the wardrobe, which was probably filled with his shirts and shoes and other things. Even the little writing desk had a pen that looked as if he did not use it.

He looked at her directly. "Yes. But I do not come here often."

"Oh-," She said, made strangely unhappy by gaining this new piece of knowledge. "I see. I thought-,"

But he silenced her by stepping behind her, closing his arms around her from behind, trapping her. It was obvious what he was telling her. He did not care to hear what she thought of the place, his room, him. He did not care. He wanted her to fulfill her side of the bargain now.

And she caught a breath, shuddering, but without the repulse she had expected. His arms were cold at first, but then she realised that she was warming him and that the contact sustained a feedback, a loop of warmth between them.

Her eyes darted around her, suddenly registering the fact that they were standing in the centre of the room, a four-poster far at the other side, a long, wide mirror hanging on the immediate wall they both faced. It was an ornate mirror, its frame a copper-tinged gold with spirals and vines like fingers on the glass perimeter. It was a beautiful mirror, but the glass seemed like ice- sharp and cruel.

The mirror was foreign to her, as were the reflections of themselves. Granted, they'd had physical contact before, and she had sensed what he wanted from the contact. The mirror was only reminding her that this was just another moment.

But the sight of her being wrapped in his embrace had a new sensuality, a vision that had its totality, a sight that made her very aware of their bodies. She was viewing them now as a third party, looking at the man and woman entwined in the man's embrace, as if she wasn't the woman.

It was altogether a new, dizzying intimacy that she was afraid to admit.

At the same time, his arms and the familiarity of his embrace did not distract from the unfamiliar, hard glint in his eyes. She was looking at his eyes in the mirror, and those made her feel uneasy.

How strange his eyes were! In this light, she thought those were hardly emerald- those resembled an amber, a yellow rather like hers, save that her eyes now seemed gold in this light. He was staring at her reflection, his hold and gaze equally possessive, and only the warmth of his body told her that he was human.

He kissed her neck, and she trembled, feeling his hand snake to her waist and press her closer to him. She was frozen, rooted and petrified by their reflections; by how beautifully their forms were wrapped in each others'.

Then his fingers located the buttons on her dress, and he began to undo those with a hand, the other hand still holding her by her waist, to him. He undid the buttons methodically, with precision and a cold calculation that made her very nervous. She shifted a little, although she held her chin high and proud. She would not cry out even if he struck her- why should his stroking her achieve a sound from her?

His expression grew steely in the mirror, and he said softly, "Why don't you struggle against me or cry out?"

In that instant, she was reminded of how he had eaten, how surgically he had divided his meal into portions that were consumed in slivers. He was not a man that ate for pleasure, she thought. He ate for sustenance.

"Because you are a man of your word and I can assure you of mine as well." She said stiffly.

"Good." He said simply, releasing the last of the buttons from their slots.

The silk dress unfurled as it went past her waist, down to the ground, pooling near her ankles, and she trembled, sensing her vulnerability. And his arm slid across her waist once more, reclaiming her as his even as her outer skin was shed.

And with a suppressed gasp, she saw and felt her dress unfolding, like butterfly wings parting, his hands aiding the material as it slid down from her torso. And the mirror told her that he seemed to be peeling her out, exposing her as a bare, soft silkworm would be.

She was without her cocoon of protection now, but she was covered by her remaining few garments still. The ruby around her neck weighed down like a terrible burden, bleeding light over her breasts- his mark on her.

He looked into the mirror, watching her as they both looked at their reflections.

Without hurry, with a gentleness that surprised her, he slid a hand to the upper-half of her breast, touching the partially exposed flesh with his fingertips. She trembled, frightened, as he inspected the way she had bound her breasts.

He looked at the chemise she wore, noting how her breasts had been pressed together. While her waist was made even narrower and her form even more compact from it, her chest was bound with strips of white cloth she must have torn from somewhere. He recalled how he had taken her back to The Isle- watched as Mile Summon had changed her into an operating gown. The surgeon had been cursing as he had untied the bounds hurriedly- the way she had bound herself had increased the pressure on the wound and she was bleeding more quickly because of it. Athrun had not thought much of how she'd bounded her breasts- he had been frantic at that time, desperate as he watched Cagalli bleed.

Now, he looked at her, frowning slightly.

Being bound like this was not a matter of comfort- she had grown into this cast, this kind of containment since her physical maturing, and she had come to rely on this suppression as her defence, a denial of her womanhood and sensuality.

He gazed at the mirror's reflection of her chest, noting how she was leaning against him unconsciously, weak with the slight suffocation. It was the first time he was seeing how uncomfortable her binds were.

Slowly, he moved his hand across the cloth of her binds, finding knot that sat between her breasts. He undid it deftly, looking at her, daring her to refuse him. But she could not. He would not allow her to, and she knew she would not refuse him either.

She breathed in suddenly, feeling the cloth expand and sag as he unwound the strips, letting those flutter to the floor like thin bandages.

His eyes were focused on hers in the mirror, not on her body.

And this disconcerted her even more than if he had been staring at her bare chest and the thin red line that ran down its centre, an imperceptible wound of that bullet she had fired into herself, but a wound she still felt.

She closed her eyes, unwilling to watch any more.

But her body woke to his touch.

And his fingers ran like water, moving over her mouth first, then smooth and flowing, down her neck, over her collarbone. She could not help it eventually- she opened her eyes and found him waiting, watching her still.

Something in his face had changed again. It was no longer impassive and calm, it was filled with a fury and pain that made her shiver, although she could not move with how he was holding her.

"Did you think," He whispered. "That trading half your body for information would be so simple? Did you think it would be enough for me?"

She began to struggle, against him, misunderstanding him, thinking that he would enter her and he would realize that she was worth little to a man such as himself. Her nakedness suddenly more apparent than ever to her, her face ashen-white. "Don't- I don't want to-,"

"You misunderstand me." He answered simply, watching her as she struggled. He was not looking at the representation of Cagalli in the mirror, but the physical form he had captured in his hands now.

"But then," He said ruefully, "Haven't you always?"

He laughed suddenly, and it was a terrible laugh, filled with anguish and bitterness. "You're letting me touch you only because you think that this is purely for my physical gratification."

She looked at his face in the mirror and felt something break in her.

"No matter," He whispered. His eyes were filled with pain. "I'll have something of you still, even if I can't have your heart. And you'll give me what you promised, as you said you would."

Cagalli was mesmerized by his eyes- how emerald they were, how they were ringed with a black rage and lust.

"I'll show you what it's like to be touched by a man who wants you and not the power you represent." He said softly, his voice hoarse with need and hunger. She shivered, still locked in his arms. "He may have taught you to be the Orb Princess to her husband, but I'll teach you to be a woman to me."

Keeping one hand on her waist still, he ran his right hand to a white, silken breast, grabbing it and squeezing it hard. And she cried out with shock and pleasure as he ran his index and thumb up to meet at a tender, sensitive nipple, the pad of his thumb and his index compressing, clamping, teasing her roughly. She moaned and he softened his touch immediately, not wanting to hurt her.

He experienced a jolt of pleasure within himself- the breast he held was full and pleasingly soft, trembling with sensation. As he raked his finger across her hardening, rose-pink nipple, he grinded his body against her back and simultaneously pressed her body to his chest, feeling his hardness strain against his pants and towards her soft body and against her rear.

He cradled her against him this way, one hand keeping her there, the other touching her breast, his eyes watching them in the mirror.

She keened against him, swaying slightly, purring, close to him now even without him pressing her close.

The reflection showed how heavily she was leaning against him, how she had reached up, bringing an arm around his neck. Her hand was twining itself in his hair, one of his hands on her waist, the other cupping her breast. From the way he held her against him, her body pressed against his, she could feel him growing very hard, and she blushed, understanding the effect she had on him.

She looked at the mirror, not really seeing, but watching. Was that really her? Who was that woman he held, the woman who moaned his name as he stroked and played with her breasts, his face buried near her shoulder as he bit into her? Who was that in the mirror, with her mouth and body was trembling so clearly, without any effort to hide the sensations she felt?

She had been peeled away from everything she had known- the defences of her office, her house, Aaron, her government, her obligations to be the Orb Princess at all times, even her self-defences. The woman he cradled in his arms was already his in some immutable, unchangeable way- and she saw that she had become his.

It sobered her in that split moment, and Cagalli was terrified. She saw in the mirror that he was fully-dressed, whereas she wore only her panties. And she saw that he had no trace of emotion, whereas pleasure had been clear on her face. He was in control over both of them, but she had lost her control.

She was afraid and ashamed of how she was responding to his touch and how she'd allowed him to make her feel so vulnerable both physically and emotionally.

And she pushed him away and dropped to her knees, kneeling and stooping over, before the base of the full-length mirror now, covering her chest in shame. She bent into a foetal shape, panting with humiliation but the undeniable rush of adrenaline coursing through her blood.

He said nothing, only watched from where he stood, as still as a statue.

In the mirror, she saw that his eyes had nothing left of humaneness, and that the warmth of his eyes had long become shards of glass.

His reflection loomed over her, and she watched in silent apprehension as he began to undo his shirt from where he stood behind her.

Her breaths were loud and rasping in the room, as if she had run a long distance.

He removed only his shirt and nothing else, folding it neatly, almost mechanically and setting it aside. It shamed her even though she did not know why, to see that her dress was a crushed pool of colour, but his shirt was a neat little white envelope of cloth.

Then Athrun was kneeling down to her, blocking their wretched reflections only partially from her eyes. For their side profiles were still reflected by that mirror, and she huddled into an even tighter ball, as she had as a child, in the dark, afraid of the monsters beyond her bedroom door.

His hands found their way into her hair and he smoothed it, freeing it of its binds as he had her chest, combing it out with his fingers, looking at the gold that slipped through his hands. It spilled over her shoulders, fine and light-coloured.

Cagalli was his. He ran his hands through her long hair, like the king appraising the worth of Rumplestiltskin's woven gold. She had given herself to someone else. But he wanted her still. It made no difference who she had been with as long as she agreed to be with him.

For Cagalli, she couldn't help thinking of the time when she had lost her speech, how he had sat with her every day, talking to her even when she couldn't respond, how he'd been so gentle. Would he be the same now?

But Athrun ceased to comb her hair with his fingers. He had been long weary of treating her as he would a child. He did not want a child, a pure, immaculate goddess to worship and to adore, unlike Orb. He wanted a woman. He wanted her.

Now, he braided her hair roughly, gathering it with a clenched fist then twisting her hair, winding it around his fist. She cried out at the sudden action, afraid and sensing that the action had a rage in it that was almost cruel.

And he deposited it over her shoulder, pressing his lips thirstily to a creamy, white shoulder, groping for her breasts. She covered her chest as best as she could with her hands, pushing his hands away, gasping as she struggled, her expression filled with misery.

Even though she did not want to admit it, there were tears pooling in her eyes. So she kept chin tilted and defiant, although it took a great deal of will. He saw humiliation in her eyes, but there was a pride that she could not let go of. Despite his unwillingness to be as emotionally vulnerable in the same way that she was physically vulnerable, Athrun knew then, that he felt a great deal for her.

She had pushed his hands away, and he had let them fall by his sides. But now, he brought one to her cheek and stroked it.

"Don't be afraid of me." He said quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you. You promised me half of your body, and I'll take it. But no more than that. I keep to my word."

Cagalli felt his hand moving down her shoulder, to her elbow, up her forearm which was pressed desperately to shield her chest. "Why don't you just take what you want and let me go back to Orb?"

Her face was white and she stared at the sole garment he'd allowed her to keep on, the cloth covering her last shred of dignity.

"Because I want you by my side." Athrun replied stoically. "So I won't take you fully because I'd have to let you go after that. So I won't."

She looked at him reluctantly. But he mistook her silence for unwillingness.

"Do you want to keep to your promise?" He said tonelessly. "If you don't, we'll call this deal off."

She thought of the room, how any woman might have been allowed in here, how he might have spent his nights with women who could at least be of some value to him. If she lost her nerve now-

"No!" Her voice shook and rang in the stagnant air. "I want this!"

He stroked her bottom lip with the tip of his finger, watching it tremble in her fear. "Then let me have what you promised me."

She felt his hands move hers away, pulling her forearms straight so they no longer covered her. Cagalli resisted, panicking. But then she stopped when she looked into his eyes. There was no hard cruelty there, and the flintiness and hollow emerald had become sadness. There was a dignity and something of a plea in those eyes.

For him to touch her, he had to cast off all feelings for her. For her to let him touch her, she had to relinquish her own feelings for him. Otherwise, they could not be like this.

She stared at his eyes in the mirror, not sure of herself or him any longer, and found herself suddenly looking at him as he shifted her head to face his. From then on, she was unable to see the reflections of both of them. She lost the ability to look at them both and judge them as a third part would.

She saw only him, and anything that she saw of herself was the person reflected in his eyes. And from then on, she did not know if what they were doing was right or wrong, only that he made her feel what she had never before.

For Athrun made her lie on her back, pushing her hair back so that it lay like a golden fan around her head, where it could not cover her chest. And he was pressing her down against the fur carpet very gently, and his weight moved above hers, raising himself to look directly at her. It felt comforting actually, this softness against her back, and how the weight of his lower body was grounding hers.

She bit her lips, unsure of what to do, but found that his mouth was crushing hers, demanding and begging. His tongue slipped between her teeth, lightly, exploring the crevices of her mouth, and she found that she could not deny them both.

So she found herself responding, kissing him back with a passion that surprised her. She pulled him down to her, his bare chest against hers, feeling his heart beat a rhythm different from hers. The material of his pants created a maddening sensation as it scrapped across her waist, highs and feet.

He kissed her hungrily, so eagerly that he was sure that he was bruising her lips. But she was responding to him, moaning a little, her hands pressing into his back like claws, and he knew that he loved her desperately.

He knew it was dangerous. She had convinced him that having half her body was worth letting her have the information. A day would come when she would offer him all of her if he would let her go back to Orb. And he wasn't sure he would be able to resist that offer, even if he had this time.

But for now, Athrun thought desperately, surely just a little of this wouldn't hurt? He'd stop taking if she wanted to return to Orb in exchange for what she was giving. But for now, all he wanted was to watch her breathe and fall asleep by his side. Surely, there wasn't anything dangerous or wrong about that?

When he was sure that she was used to his presence, he shifted over. He laid on his side, watching her breathe, thinking of how beautiful she was, how utterly perfect and lovely she was.

Those breasts had been bound every day, hidden them under coarse, rough material. She'd been ashamed of them, ashamed of the fact that she was a woman; ashamed that she was human and fallible, perhaps even more fallible as a woman.

"Look at you," He murmured, shifting down so that his head level was near her collar bone. He ran a hand over the side of her chest. "Do you know how lovely you are?"

She looked at him mutely, trembling. How could she tell him that she hated any sign of her womanhood? As she had grown, it was clear that many considered her as little more than another girl to be used as a pawn in the politics of the royal families. She had always known that people saw women as weak and beautiful women as mere ornaments. Even when she had been twelve, there had already been people looking at her, admiring her. She hated it. Cagalli knew that many, even the servants she barely knew, saw her as a child and nothing more than that.

Because she was a girl, she would never lead. Because she was a girl, she would be worth little more than a kind of social butterfly, a trophy wife to further a man's political career and image.

She had grown up this way; she had hated her face, her body. Cagalli hated the fact that she was female and that she would never be quite as equal to a man, to Yuna, and certainly not to her father.

Now, Athrun, like so many she had met before, was telling her that she was beautiful. The difference was that her heat had beat a tattoo against her, for unlike what she had felt with the others, she wanted him to mean it.

At the same time, the insecurity he could see in her eyes made Athrun realise that Cagalli had hidden her breasts, the clearest sign of feminity, to enter the men's world of politics and become an equal if not a superior to them.

As a woman, the world would view her with the failings associated with the weaker gender. But as a woman without any overt feminity, as a woman who was far removed from the earthiness of others, Cagalli had been elevated on a goddess' pedestal. She was a woman yes, but she was immune to men and she existed only for Orb's interests.

This was the way Cagalli had survived in that world of hers.

But surely, he thought, she must have known that there would come a day when her womanhood was inevitable and she could not hide what she was.

He stared at her, watching her look at him shyly, a blush beneath her cheeks. This was the day.

Athrun had no need for the Orb Princess, that pristine, glorious image of correctness and inaccessibility. He only had need for Cagalli, a Cagalli who would be a woman to him, a woman that he loved and a woman that loved in him return, a Cagalli who would be _his_ woman. The thought of another man already having taken her made his innards burn with hatred and jealousy.

He was filled with a heat and longing, an insane need to possess her even though he could not. Someone already had- and she did not allow him to either.

In a frenzy of lust, he began to stroke her white breasts with his fingertips. He touched her with feather-light finger tips, stroking the sides of her breasts, their roundness, but not touching her nipples at all. If he touched the most sensitive points now, she would panic, and he did not want that.

She looked at him, not resisting, but not really responding.

But he was patient. Even as he stroked her, avoiding the most sensitive areas. She was comely, golden with a light sprinkling of the sun, fading as his eyes traveled to her shoulders and breasts, becoming all white and milky with breasts that had been locked under her suits, bound, soft like flower petals, never having seen the sun.

Her lips had parted to reveal the pink tongue behind them, and he knew that her body was aching for him to touch her.

She wondered how he had touched other women- surely, they had been more beautiful than her, surely, they had deserved this more than her. Despite her fear and the guilt of using him, she knew that she wanted him to touch her, to give her what she could have as a woman for once.

He took both throbbing, rose-coloured nipples between his thumbs and indexes and squeezed those, making her gasp. Was this what it felt like, she thought dazedly, to be touched by a man this way, this rush of adrenaline and tangy, tingling sensation that electrified all of her to the tips of her fingers? He was not being as gentle as much as teasing, more demanding now, and she found that she enjoyed his attentions even more.

While he squeezed both her nipples simultaneously, she bucked, as if he had pulled her towards him by tugging a string attached to the area between her legs. A moan tore its way out of her, and she gasped.

"Athrun," She pleaded embarrassedly, "Those are sensitive!"

He only squeezed harder, causing new spikes of sensation to shoot into her whole body. He teased her harder, wantonly even, smiling a soft, sensuous smile that sent thrills of excitement down her spine and a tug of need to the apex of her thighs. "I know."

She leaned back, writhing in gratification and struggling, though not against him. Her cries were building and he groaned suddenly, a hoarse, desperate sound, squeezing her vigorously with both hands, jamming her breasts together, forcing her nipples to meet and rub against each other. He watched her, feeling himself grow dangerously aroused- he would have to make sure that he did not lose control.

The sensation was maddeningly good- she cried out and parted her thighs, wrapping those around his waist, unconscious of what she was doing.

He understood immediately, however. She keened, straining against him, and he smirked, knowing that she was past pretending to be immune to her own desire for him.

"Athrun," She said, panting. Shyly, she averted her eyes from his hands, not daring to order him to please her, not daring to ask that she be pleased by someone like him.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes, waiting for a prompt.

"Show me," He said simply.

Without understanding how she knew what she wanted him to do to, how she knew to address the heat building in her, she guided his head to her chest, stroking his cheek, watching him smirk. She blushed slightly, unable to say anything, but then he spared her and began to press his lips to her. And she gasped with pleasure as he ran his lips across a warm, throbbing nipple, then with the tip of his cool, wet tongue. Before she realised it, he had brought a nipple between his lips and teeth, his tongue swirling around it as his mouth latched onto her and applied a suction that made her cry out in her fever.

His other hand caressed the unoccupied nipple now, and the combination of the gentle teasing of his hand on one breast and his demanding, rough mouth on the other made her pant in earnest, her body subjected to two different sensations.

She writhed, shaking and bucking, panting his name, and he suckled greedily, enjoying how she was writhing under him. She was wonderful, scented with honey and apricot, and he was sure that the milky texture of her flesh was testimony to what he tasted. Her animal cries aroused him, her body entwining his as it strained towards his above hers, her voice husky as she cried his name in her heat.

Athrun could scarcely think as he touched her, tasting her and playing with her while she lay below him, her body splayed on the velvet and fur carpet. Her body was soft and small, but her breasts were surprisingly so much fuller and so much more sensitive than what he had expected or seen of any woman. He was filled with awe by how she was responding to him, cuddling him and accepting his touch.

He smothered himself with her generous breasts while he took turns to address each one, devastated by them, by how wonderful they felt, bare and crushed against him. Her nipples were not soft rosebuds now, but pebbles of pink hard-boiled candy crowning soft, creamy peaks, throbbing and irresistable. He moaned while he touched her, losing his own control.

He couldn't resist biting her in his eagerness, although he took care not to hurt her. And he lost himself to her cries, biting and caressing each nipple in turn. She was incredible, just as he had imagined when she had agreed to let him touch her.

When he had finished with her, he saw how flushed with colour her lips and cheeks were, how her nipples appeared like ripe, swollen raspberries, throbbing and wet from his suckling. Any more could cause pain- she was so sensitive, he had to be careful.

She was still moaning in the throes of her pleasure, quietly now, and her eyes were shut still.

Then her eyes began to flutter open, and he stared straight into them, looking at the golden, almost molten texture. She was still trembling with sensation, and he knew that she had lost her initial fear of him and gained pleasure instead.

Cagalli was not any other woman- she was the only woman that he loved. He had agreed to not love her, and if he tried to take things to far, she would be frightened and he would lose her.

He grabbed her chin, lifting it to his eyes while his free hand slid to her collarbone, tapping a finger on it. Then, still holding her chin so she had to look at him, he slid his other hand lower to her breast. She jolted, startled and electrified.

He looked at her triumphantly, and she blushed, covering her breasts with her hands. But he struck them down, saying curtly, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He looked at her again and felt another rush of blood to his loins- his pants felt unbearable against him, and he bit back a groan of utter suffering. He had shown her how he could make her want his touch- that was enough for now. The rest would fall in place.

Athrun had made his own plans as well. Cagalli thought she had the upper hand, but he would prove her wrong. Each time he touched her, he thought now, it would be by her own permission. And each time he touched her, he would show her that it was not a matter of physical pleasure but she had an emotional bond to him. And one day, Athrun planned, she would give herself to him without wanting anything in return. He would not force her into giving herself. And one day, he thought wistfully, she would realize that she had only been fooling herself.

But in the meantime-

He spoke, his voice soft now and commanding. "From now on, don't bind your breasts when you come here. Nothing above your waist either."

She stared at him, not understanding.

"I don't want you to deny what your are," He said quietly. "You've agreed to be my woman, and that's what you'll be to me."

She hesitated, then nodded.

She was already learning wasn't she? He thought of how she had responded to his touch. Although it was only the act of touching her breasts, she was already becoming aware of her sexuality and how she could please him. He would teach her how she could be a woman to him, a little by little, then until she was completely his. It didn't matter that Marlin had already taken her. Athrun didn't care- it didn't change what he felt for her.

He decided then that no other man would have her here on The Isle, that no man would enter her mind except him from now on. She had pledged herself to him.

He had planned to send her to Sheba's stronghold, to hide her away from all his enemies and even himself. But now, after agreeing to what she had suggested, after finding out what it meant to have her like this, he doubted her would be capable of sending her away. He wanted to hold her, to have her fall asleep by his side like this.

It was impossible to send her away now.

He pulled her to her feet and led her into his bed, drawing the curtains of the four poster. She was stiff now, awkward and unable to look at him in the eye. But it didn't matter- he would make her his, little by little, slowly and surely.

She laid next to him, her arms around him in what seemed like a hesitant manner, his mouth kissing hers and her neck to seal her to him.

His voice was a murmur. "I'm not going to send you away."

Cagalli felt her heart beat a little faster. "What?"

He repeated himself, a bit impatiently, and she knew she had succeded wit hthe first step. As long as he did not send her away to someone else, she would be able to convince him to trade his information, and she would be familiar with this place and know how to escape.

She felt him sigh quietly, and she heard him say softly, "Neither of us can afford to play another game like this."

Cagalli looked at him quietly, not saying anything. If he knew that tonight had been the first step in a plan that would get her back to Orb, would he have held her so tenderly like this?

Through the night, she held him, learning what it meant to be next to a breathing person, watching him sleep. But despite the tugging of her heart, there was a cold determination that had begun to root itself in her will. She would play this game. It was the only way to survive with him, to survive with herself, to leave him and The Isle and return to Orb.

For now though, she would sleep by his side, absorbing his warmth, feeding him with her own, learning what it meant to be loved by a man like him.

But throughout the night, she repeated to herself, silently; even while she fell asleep, that she would not love him back.

* * *

3 months. 28 days.


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 14

* * *

_As a child, her hair had been very long._

_While she was small in stature, she had certain, if not the key features that the maids identified with storybook-princesses. As it was, knights and princesses featured regularly in the books that the child had read eagerly, and then with decreasing enthusiasm as the days had passed. As she began to demand for other kinds of books, mystery, fantasy, adventure, puzzles, in other words, anything she could get her hands on, her appearance began to change too. She outgrew the profile of patience she had shown as a child each time the maids ventured to have her gold hair braided and adorned with the native flowers of Orb that were common in the gardens. _

_Her naturally creamy skin was prone to tiny, faint clusters of freckles, like distant birds flocking from an immense distance, over the sky of her cheeks and arms. Her skin assumed a honey colour easily when she spent her time outdoors, and she had often reported back to the house with leaves and twigs wound in the golden spools. Naturally, the maids would be dismayed at the hair ribbons she'd somehow left outside in the wilderness of the estate yet again._

_The housekeeper had been always fond of her, although Mana was prone to imposing her standards of 'proper attire for a princess'. And Mana did this by overfilling her employer's daughter's wardrobe with the dresses one expected to see on dolls. On retrospect, Cagalli found the attention lavished on her to be both frightening and quite off-putting, although she had not realized it as a child._

_For when Cagalli had showed an early tendency to draw, the servants supplied her with so much art materials that she was frightened of the prospect of having to fill the stacks of white paper with colour. In that estate, everyone associated her well-being with what an objective person deemed as sheer, extreme excess. If she professed a liking for the orange chiffon cupcakes that had been served once, then the subsequent teatimes would feature only those. If she looked pretty in tiered dresses, then an entire line would be sent in various colours and patterns but with the same design. If she showed an interest in the gardens, why, they'd fill her room with flowers to make her happy then!_

_Her circumstances made others deem her as naïve because of her innocence and her trusting nature as vulnerability. There was scarcely an hour that she passed as a child when there weren't maids tripping after her as she ran into the gardens or other servants keeping an eye on her._

_Cagalli had loved the gardens of the estate more than all the finery the interiors of the house could offer. The house had been a maze for the early years, and she had been too wary of the servants who seemed to be lurking behind every corner to try exploring the house thoroughly. _

_In addition, the chairs were larger than her, and the tables seemed to be silent guard posts when she ventured near. Because she was a rather small child even for her age, the maids would often see a bit of hay poke from above the table top and a large pair of questioning eyes peering back at them. _

_In contrast, the amber ornaments on the shelves were far above her reach, unlike the golden fruit of the apple trees in summer. Having something out of her reach made whatever that it was even more appealing. Of course, both the ornaments and fruit could be obtained if she had simply opened her mouth and asked anyone to give it to her. While she had to ask for help when it came to the indoors, the child knew that the world outside the house was a playground that was solely hers._

_As a result, she found new places and new ways to escape from this supervision, which made them quite sure she was rebellious although nobody recognized that her character was not so much her nature as was their doing. Nobody recognized loneliness in her drive to be fiercely independent or her resistance to being held in one place for too long. Kisaka had come close to this, but his duties as her bodyguard and her father's aide prevented him from becoming too close a friend of hers that he would cease to be an avuncular authority in her life._

_Of course, any explanation for Cagalli's character still sufficed in accounting for Mana's inability to see Cagalli as a young woman even when Cagalli had well and truly become the Orb Princess. No matter what the reasons or motivations for Cagalli's actions were, she was still a child in Mana's eyes. This was not unwelcome although it could be frankly, annoying as hell. But still, Mana was the closest thing Cagalli recognized as a mother._

_The few photographs she had permitted the adults to take showed a child with eyes so large they seemed to consume most of her face except for that bright, inquisitive mouth. Her eyes were strangely rather almond-shaped, and they seemed to speak for the child although she was already proving to be a chatterbox. Still, all who knew the child saw that as good-natured she was, she rarely smiled for the camera even when beseeched or coerced to. _

_However, something was clear in the even fewer photographs that caught her smiling. Cagalli Yula Atha appeared to carry the magnetism her father had and she worshipped him as much as he and the people in the house did her. The maids had often said that she shared an uncanny stubbornness that might have even outweighed his. _

_Her temper was quick, even uncontrollable at points. Most children were passionate, prone to being hurt and hurting, willing to love and be loved- but this one was especially so. The girl was clearly bright but not threateningly precocious. And while her father had been a very mild boy, one who preferred to speak only when spoken to. His child was the polar opposite._

_Also, she looked nothing like her father. _

_What she had understood of the world had been derived through the news, and sometimes, her good behavior was rewarded by the patches of sky through the woods near the gates of the estate. The walls were too high for her to peer over them, but still, she could hear school children joking and complaining while their footsteps pattered at a distance. At times, there would car sounds, a tinkle of a bell and wheels creaking, children's chatter as they discussed which flavor they favored, and even a man who whistled regularly on his way to work. The servants who busied themselves around the massive ground often stopped to observe and smile privately at the child who stood near the walls in deep, thoughtful silence._

_But as far as she could recall, she had never left the premises of the estate by foot until her father had finally allowed her to go to a public school. Well, as public as one could allow for. If she was brought anywhere, it was in a chauffeured car that delivered her, her father, and Kisaka, his personal aide, from the doorstep, through the extensive in-roads, and out of the estate, to someone else's gated estate. Going home after tea and playtime would encapsulate the whole process again._

_She met other children at times, although all her playmates were back in her own estate. The other children in her mind were people of other estates, and those were frighteningly similar but different at the same time. Like her, they had adults running and tripping after them, offering toys, food, books, anything the child wanted. But she could not bring herself to befriend or like some of them._

_There had been a tall boy who she had been instructed to be friends with. That particular estate was more tiresome than the others, but her father had often spent more time in the house with the boy's parents than in any other estate. _

_Those instances plagued her as a child. And even when she was older, the memory of rose bushes scratching at her as she had fled persisted in her mind. Yuna Roma Seiran had often bullied her to the point where she was too frightened to retaliate in the way she normally would have. She did not like the house she lived in, but she was always a little more glad to return when she was brought out of it into the Seiran's estate._

_And when she was nine, she had gone exploring in the house itself. By this time, she had long charted all the outdoor territories of the estate, and she had only one option left- the corridors of her house. _

_One day, she had walked into a room filled with boxes. Those had been covered with white cloths to prevent dust from gathering in them, and she had enjoyed herself with unveiling the various paintings and books under the cloths. But when she had found letters and documents she understood only half of, she began to cry. _

_The half that she had understood had been enough to convince her that she was not her father's child. _

_She had cried quietly at first, and then bawled with sobs that had echoed loudly until Kisaka had located the source and rushed in with ammunition ready to take down a potential assailant. _

_He had taken one look at what his ward had been rummaging through and promptly understood what the fuss was all about. While Kisaka had not been at a liberty to explain what the letters meant, he found it his moral duty to pick her up as he would have a kitten, and tell her that her father loved her nonetheless._

_The rest that followed of the incident was fuzzy, for children generally had strange mechanisms of forgetting that which made them uncomfortable or unhappy. Still, those memories returned and could not be dismissed during the First War, when her father had told her directly that she was not his child. At that point, she could no longer dismiss the nagging impression that she was not her father's child as a wild, stray though, for her father hadn't' even pretended anymore._

_It was in Cagalli's nature to accept and forgive her father for not considering her feelings when he had given her a small photograph with the implicit message that she would have to stand on her own from then on. Nor was it a foreign, strange message. For even while Cagalli had been growing up, she had still realized that her father had little time to care about her even if he still did. What mattered was that her father trusted her to carry herself on his behalf. No matter how rash or headstrong she could be, her father had always given her his trust._

_The case in point was the eleven-year old Cagalli's initiative. At that time, she had decided that her father w trusted her enough to accept what she deemed as being in her best interests. She did not enjoy being home schooled despite not knowing what public schools were like either, and because she did not know, she wanted to experience it for herself. After all, she was tired of being the top pupil of her class, and she had long grown tired of being by herself. _

_Her tutors hated and loved her all at once. As the Mathematics mistress had said to the History master, "She's clever alright. But what a disagreeable child beneath that exterior- her eyes are a more accurate representation of her character than that angelic golden hair! I made the mistake of generalizing the syllabus- I told her that there was no such thing as inaccuracy in Mathematics and she said with those questioning eyes hers, so what about pi?"_

_"Yes, yes." The History master had sighed. "She remarked that all history was fiction to a certain extent- that everything we knew were second-hand accounts with interpretations nobody had any hope of dissecting properly. And I had to agree with a nine year old. At that point, I wondered why I had bothered going through why __Roosevelt__ had lent his name to the teddy-bear when she was already discussing historiography. So we ended up having strawberry ice cream and taking a walk through the gardens while she grilled me on why people bothered going to war I would boast to everyone that I was teaching Uzumi Nara Atha's child if I weren't bound by that contract."_

_"Me too." The Mathematics teacher had admitted. "But a great deal of our pay is to keep our mouths shut."_

_It wasn't that Cagalli disliked home-schooling. It was simply that she disliked being alone. Naturally, she sought an audience with Uzumi Nara Atha and conveyed her express desire to go to school like all the other children._

_She had marched down the east corridor, turning precisely after the second walkway, past the little table, past the row of framed pictures of random hills and flowers, and past an old, grandfather clock. She had knocked once, entered, and heard her father's voice falter. It had been rumbling past the thick door even before she'd stood in front of his home-office, but her presence had interrupted its flow. _

_"I need that rescheduled. And are those papers ready-, Cagalli? What are you doing here?"_

_Her father had put down whatever he had been reading and had rubbed his temple briefly. At that time, she had been to eager to declare her request that she hadn't noticed how tired he looked and how long she had gone without seeing him come out of that office. Ledonir Kisaka had stared at the child who had marched in without arranging a meeting with the secretary._

_"I'd like to go to school with the other children, father." The eleven-year old had said this imperiously, using a voice Ledonir Kisaka recognized as the same voice Mana used when it concerned the hairbrush and recently, ripped, muddy dresses._

_"Like all the other children?" Uzumi Nara Atha had repeated, unconvinced. He had deftly shifted aside a pile of paperwork and bent forward, inspecting the child who stood impatiently, her head tilted and proud._

_"Like Elise, Terrence, Jonathan, Matthew, Heather and Quentin." She had announced. She had shuffled her hands in her bid to remain dispassionate and entirely objective, for she had learnt that her father did not take kindly to nervous wrecks. He had grilled the last reporter who had been invited to the house- although she had been ordered to keep upstairs. Of course, she had found a corner from the winding staircase to peek at the cowering reporter whose pen seemed to be a blade of grass in the wind. She looked at her father fearlessly now, and decided to cite more references._

_"Like Grayson, Jan, Lily, Nate, Wendy, Anna and-,"_

_"The cook's children." Kisaka had quickly translated to the employer, who had started to frown._

_"And the gardener's and the butler's and the second chauffeur's." Uzumi had said wryly. "I know- those are her playmates when the servants happen to bring them over. She told me that she didn't care for the other playmates as much- the two Lyadov girls, the Seiran boy, all the others."_

_He ended the private conversation with his aide and focused on the child, who was trying her best to wait patiently._

_"And dear child,-,"_

_"Yes?" Her mouth was set in a firm line but her voice was trembling with anticipation. It made him wonder how long she had taken to rehearse the conversation that was now happening, and it made him smile._

_"Those are other children indeed." Uzumi had said tentatively. "And they go to a schoolhouse, as you've said." He wondered why he felt the need to appease this child as carefully as he had Orb's allies._

_"So I can go to a normal school then?" Her voice rose an octave in volume and excitement._

_"No-," Her father's voice had been slightly amused but somehow gentle too. "That's not what I'm getting at."_

_"But you said that other children go to normal schools!"_

_"Exactly."_

_"So why can't I, if there are other children who go to schools like that?" She looked triumphantly at Uzumi Nara Atha, convinced that her logic was impenetrable. He stared at her, as did the burly Kisaka who had always lifted her on his shoulders and protected her. She had been so sure that she had proven her case._

_But her smile died when her father sighed and rebutted her._

_"My dear child," Her father looked at her directly. "Whoever said that you were like the other children?"_

_Still, he eventually let her go, and she found herself in a posh, finishing school that was about as public as an invitation-only soiree where the women carried useless clutches and the men wore only tuxedos._

_In the all-girls convent, she had been just another face in a crowd of young, privileged girls. The nuns were strict and the girls had been obliged to follow their orders to march in two neat rows and to speak only when spoken to. It might have seemed oppressive, except that for Cagalli, this was another world. This was a world she half belonged to, and it was better than being in a world that consisted of a gated estate._

_She had been somewhat glad to be unrecognizable, for she was introduced as a diamond mine-owner's daughter, amongst all the rich young ladies that went to the school. But she was happy that way, for she was aware that her father was fiercely protective of privacy. Moreover, Cagalli did not want to shame him- there was that unspoken trust between them that she would behave._

_Cagalli had worn the stiff pinafore as a requirement, as the other girls had. While she had pierced ears, she wore only simple studs, for it did not occur to her that more ostentatious gems would have drawn more attention to her. Nor was she motivated by gaining attention from the other girls or even the boys from the neighboring, affiliated school some distance away._

_Unlike most of the other girls, she had never learnt to indulge in make-up and fashionable clothes on weekends when the convent gates were opened. Cagalli Yula, as she went by, had never thought to wear her uniform with accessories there was no precedent against. _

_Nor did she sneak out in the middle of the night to meet boys from the adjacent, affiliated school the way her dorm-mates often did. She was too self-assured, too insensitive to the social trends to respond to those. The cars the girls had owned or been chauffeured in had lined the school premises in all sorts of colours, and it had been a stark contrast to how she walk and ran quite freely without concerns of the traffic. Sometimes, she relied on a bicycle to get to the town square- her father was quite firm that she could not own anything with a motor. _

_On her bicycle, in her unaltered pinafore, looking at the eleven year old Cagalli would have been like surveying a simple dish of butter cookies next to a colourful box of liquorice all-sorts. This contrast, ironically and surprisingly, gained her a large group of friends who were attracted to her rather anarchic principles of doing as she pleased without consideration of social impetus or acceptance. _

_Therefore, Cagalli did not clash with the others, and the friends she made were loyal and lasted. Yet, she could never look like one of them, nor did it occur to her that she ought to try._

_So Cagalli had finished her education there and made more friends than she had expected to make. But her friends had drifted off- some marrying into even richer families than those of their own, some becoming famous actresses or movie stars, some modeling until they ran agencies themselves, and a few who went into business and commerce. Some became writers, some failed as poets, but all of them were docked to past friendships only by occasional phone calls and frequent invitations to each others' parties._

_But for Cagalli, she found ways to excuse herself from the parties her schoolmates often threw and invited her to. But while she had assumed that she simply wasn't interested, it had occurred to her as the years had passed, that she was afraid of showing up and being remembered for the girl who had been quite normal in finishing school- almost to the point of being forgettable. Being remembered by her friends in that manner would have left that bitter taste of regret in her. That was regret all right- the regret that normalcy was a privilege she had never taken much notice of. How many of them would recognize the girl who had wandered along the corridors, reading and laughing amongst her friends, asking questions that made the nuns flustered in class? How many of them remembered each other beyond the impression that they now relied on to maintain their place in their own worlds?_

_But then, that fear had whittled down, because habitual exposure to one's fear would naturally lead to immunity. In the years that followed after she returned to Orb and assumed leadership, that empty house and those empty rooms became a form of security. The servants' over-protectiveness had been the introduction. Her father's decision to put her in finishing school had been proof. words had been the encapsulation. The Isle was a reminder._

_She was not and could not be any other person._

_

* * *

_

When Cagalli awoke, she should have known that he would not be there. Athrun had been reluctant to accept her proposal, so why would he stay and hold her through the night and into the morning?

She should have known what a cold, empty bed felt like- she had known it for years. Even when he had kissed and made her nearly lose her nerve and confess all that she kept secret, Cagalli should have recognized that she had no right to expect anything of Athrun.

Still, finding herself alone was hard to bear.

Feeling strangely hurt and hollow, she sat up, letting the sheets fall off her. It struck her that Athrun had covered her with the sheets to prevent her from catching a cold. But that thought gave way quickly, for the marks on her seemed to stand out immediately.

On her shoulder, she could see a faint bite mark that would fade with the rest of the day- it didn't hurt, although she could recall the sensation of his teeth and the way his mouth had roved in a clear conquest of what she had granted him. If she had been directly in front of a mirror, she would have seen the other faint marks on the slope of her neck and breast.

The experience had been strange- watching him and knowing that he was nearer than he or anyone had ever been. But Athrun was difficult to understand and she wondered what he had thought, or if he had at all. The recollection of their arms, tangled in clumsy, hungry embrace, and the luxuriant shade of his hair curtaining her vision as he leaned down over her made her colour.

Of course, she reminded herself hastily, it was not supposed to matter if she had liked being near him or not. But all the same, she knew she had.

Shivering slightly now, she got up and out and began to dress. He had left a dressing gown for her and it sat over the chaise lounge, waiting to be worn. She might even have used his bathroom but she did not dare go in to be reminded that he had stepped in there and had washed and shaven in there. It would have been more painful to remember that he would have gotten out of bed and gone there and then walked past her again to leave.

And Cagalli pulled the robe over her head and gazed into the large, full-length mirror, the same one she had been so hesitant to look into last night.

In the mirror, she saw that the door and passageway to her own room was now open. Once she stepped through it and closed the door, she would be locked in her own room again. Or more accurately, she would be locked out of his world.

Feeling even more dejected, she picked her discarded clothes up. The practical action and the matter-of-factly manner she did this in was proof of how the morning light and his absence gave her some dignity. In the end, it was being alone that allowed her to go on. It reminded her that she was not any other person who could expect what any other person might have expected.

She paused, chewing her lip.

She closed the door after her, hearing it lock automatically, and the passageway immediately lighted up.

Shivering slightly, but feeling immensely grateful for the dressing gown he had left for her, she pattered as quickly as she could, to the faint light she could see at the end of the passageway. Upon stepping out of that door into her room, she closed the door and it locked.

Now, Cagalli stared at the cage she had never really examined in close detail before. She began to explore every nook and crevice of the large place, looking at things with more interest than she ever had before. In the past, she had busied herself with it until she had given up completely. Now, understanding that some secrets were worth unlocking, she stared at it intently again.

Now, she shook it curiously, hearing something in its womb, and she tried to turn it, trying to find the right combinations of its sides that would unlock the box.

She sat down on the bed with the puzzle. It was a kind of toy- a toy that most adults would not even bother with. She stared at it, examining it. It was strange, this puzzle amidst the finery that Athrun had given her to use. She began touching the sides in her hands.

It was worn and a bit chipped around its edges, and when she turned it in her hands, she saw initials carved into it. His initials might have the dictionary's- had the dictionary been assigned a name. She frowned unconsciously, thinking the same thoughts that had occurred to her a long time ago.

She fingered the carved initials, looking at how painstakingly someone must have put a blade to the wood. Had he found a blade from somewhere as a child and struggled to engrave his initials on this? Had he done the same with all his other toys? She closed her eyes, trying to think of other childhood keepsakes she might have seen. But other than a few books, she could not recall anything else.

And it occurred to her that this was Athrun's keepsake from a childhood he had never quite had, as a Coordinator and a Coordinator child prodigy at that.

He had mentioned that as a child, he had been made to solve puzzle after puzzle. At that time, she had not connected what he was saying to this toy. Was this the very same one? Or one out of so many others he had successfully taken apart? This individual piece looked so complicated that it seemed that anyone would take months at it. It was made of so many pieces, and each turning of a side would pull it apart slowly, until it revealed its secret.

She stared at what she held in her hands.

All this time, she had gotten it wrong. To leave The Isle, she needed information about Athrun, not the Isle. She could not smash the puzzle of the Isle- it would break and the shards would be useless. Athrun was the key to all of this, and he would have to open the Isle and give its secrets to her.

But Cagalli sensed that in taking the Isle apart, piece by piece, she would be undoing him. She would destroy him too. She had already begun. One puzzle piece was hers now.

She strode to the closet, fetching a towel and a fresh set of clothes.

Yet, no matter how many times she scrubbed, Cagalli felt the weight of the guilt and the memory of his touch and the pleasure she had derived. And it sickened her when she dried, dressed and stepped out to find Epstein grinning and sitting at the table. He was waiting for her as a companion would, but he cared for his master. Epstein was loyal to the point that he would kill for Rune Estragon. And she had made use of his master.

"It's a nice morning, isn't it?" Epstein said innocently.

The maids were bringing in breakfast too, and she fought back nausea. They respected and clearly loved their master even if he treated them coldly and professionally. If they knew that he was wasting his feelings on someone who could not reciprocate, would they despise her?

She tried to smile, and asked unsurely, "Where is your master?"

The twins exchanged looks but did not say anything. They busied themselves making tea, and Epstein came closer. She saw that he was looking at her curiously, and she felt herself flinch and blush.

"I assume you are asking because you know he is away. But how did you know that?" said Epstein reservedly.

It occurred to her they did not know that she had been with him, in his room last night, and would therefore have expected him to be around and asked where he was when he was not present.

"He did tell me that he was leaving today. He told me during dinner last night." Cagalli lied blatantly. "Just not where."

"Queerly enough, my master instructed us to tell you that he would be absent for a week," Epstein responded carefully, "But only in the event that you had asked. But why would he ask us to tell you that if you would have probably spoken of that during dinner?"

She found herself stammering. "We didn't get to that point of inquiry,"

Epstein looked at her, unconvinced. "And I was told to inform you, in the event that you asked the question you just asked, that you would still get what he agreed to give."

"Really?" She said in a higher-than-normal voice. "And do you know what that is?"

"Well," Epstein carefully. "My master instructed me to give you a certain kind of information."

"What else did he say?" Cagalli asked rashly.

"Nothing else." Epstein replied dutifully. "He left very early this morning and told me to look after you well."

She moved past him and sat on the bed heavily. And she did not know what to feel even when she knew what to think.

* * *

"Prague is an exquisite place if one can ignore or perhaps, appreciate the filth and grime around its edges."

A child holding a basket of newspapers ran headlong into Athrun, nearly knocking the wind out of him, except he pushed the boy along just in time. He did not have to glance at the papers or understand what the boy was shouting to know what was on the front cover.

"You've come here before, haven't you?" Athrun said. He looked around to ensure that nobody was following them. Even a child could be suspicious. He checked his belongings, ensuring that everything, including his gun, was still under his coat.

"Once on an official visit, with Freja. But that was different." His friend's voice had a tremor underneath it. Athrun could understand why.

"How so?"

"As usual, they brought us to the finest palaces and showed us fine cuisine and culture. That was twelve years ago when she had been only seventeen. All I wanted was to take her hand and bring her around the streets, to be like all these people even if for a few hours."

Prague- like this!- that was what had drawn his friend here in the first place. Athrun glanced around, understanding why one would have wanted to escape the controlld environment Plant offered for the chaos of this place. But not all who lived outside the Plants could enjoy the sights and sounds of normality either.

The first daughter and eldest child of the Scandinavian and Swedish sovereign, the Crown Princess Freja Magdalena, would have seen little of this marketplace- how it was bustling with colour and activity. She would have seen little of the corner where there was a man getting pick-pocketed in, or the old man painting on the bridge, tourists cameras flashing around him.

"When you left the Plants," Athrun said in a low voice, careful to remain unheard by all except his companion, "Was this the first place you came to?"

His companion nodded. "When I was at university, I liked to walk around here in this area. I wanted nothing to do with politics or governments or anything my family had been rooted in. But the irony was that I came back to Prague, the exact place where my ancestors had assumed power."

Athrun laughed shortly. "You wanted to get away from Plant politics but ended up becoming embroiled in Scandinavia's."

His friend returned the smile ruefully. "I didn't like my family. Being the second cousin of the third most important official's aide was something that made my ancestors think the world of themselves."

His friend turned to look behind them as they crossed the bridge where saints stood stonily in silent prayer.

"I was desperate to see a world outside my own, and I thought I'd start with Prague. But I was forced to make courtesy calls by being in a place where so much heritage rested. Being ordered to visit and pay my respects to the Scandinavian heads made me quite determined not to bother with them at all. Of course," His companion stared wryly at Athrun now. "I was also quite resistant to the idea of having to further my family's power by meeting the person I would eventually have to marry. I wasn't keen on marrying a distant relative that happened to be my family's next meal ticket- someone who was much younger whom I hadn't even met before."

As they passed the Virgin, the stone child in the statue's protective embrace seemed to gaze at them with a thoughtfulness that seemed more human than crafted.

"She was more privileged than me." His companion told Athrun. "The highest form of nobility really, and more deprived as a result. When we first met, she told me that she was always looking at the world through a window from a bullet-proof car. I never had the chance to show her the world myself, although I had always wanted to bring her here." His companion's voice lost a bit of its measure. "I thought it would only be fair since she had shown me the world first."

Diagonally, two girls with heaving bosoms paraded their only wares, calling out to whoever they could, a woman selling sparkling Czech glass beads that could be strung into a bracelet or necklace if the customer wished for it. And some distance behind, there was a youth selling flowers with suspiciously sticky fingers. An entire line of fruit sellers were screaming and arguing amongst themselves, threatening to start a price war. It was an ocean of activity, teeming with desperate, colourful life. Athrun knew what his friend was thinking. His friend was probably wishing that Freja Magadalena could see this. All of this, all the life and the living that went on in that one spot, had more vitality than the gilded life of a royal.

From what he had been told, Athrun understood that the Crown Princess had been a sickly child, and as a woman now, she was still physically weak with bones of glass and dependant on others' care. As Sheba had reported, Freja Magdalena's quarters were like a padded cell- anything to minimize risk of injury. But the princess was known to be very gentle and with a kindness that was increasingly rare these days.

Athrun looked at the sorrow in his companion's expression. The man next to him had probably lost his heart even when he had been prepared to reject the young girl he met on the basis that she was like him, a pawn in a political marriage. So Freja Magdalena Strumsson had married young as was the custom, and her husband had been by her side for most part. They had no children, for she could not bear any because the doctors had warned that her body would collapse.

Athrun knew how much silent agony his friend was going through. His friend had left the palace and gone to the Fifth Isle to keep her safe, even going as far as to fake his own death and to forgo his identity. Freja Magdalena didn't know this, and if she had, she wouldn't have been safe either. His friend had thought that it was worth it- leaving her to carry the risk all onto himself.

But now, Athrun wondered if his friend had made the right decision. They walked briskly, ignoring a beggar who rushed up to them clanging a wooden bowl and spoon noisily. Still, his friend tossed a coin in, and the beggar ran to another crowd, recognizing that there was little more to be gained from the two men.

Stare Mesto, or the old town square, was a cobbled maze of pavement and thronging crowds.

And that was what Athrun liked. The best way to be hidden was to go where everyone was. While both men's security was dependant on their unobtrusiveness, cavorting around in the tourist-infested Prague was a good disguise. On the other hand, he knew that his companion was aching to break out of all of this and find Freja Magdalena.

Now, Athrun looked at the man walking alongside him, saying quietly, "I won't let anything happen to her. Greyfriars won't harm her if I convince him not to- and he certainly does not have it in him to personally harm a woman."

Athrun had never claimed to understand anyone completely, but from all these years, he could safely say that Greyfriars was not a completely heartless person . For when Athrun had first met Greyfriars, it had surprised him to see the man smoking quietly, looking at a picture of a woman and three children.

"I think of them sometimes." Greyfriars had said softly, when he had noticed Rune Estragon staring from the doorway. Of course, all four had been dead a long time ago.

Subsequently, Greyfriars had personally served Rune Estragon tea with two cubes of sugar, and he had inquired whether Rune Estragon had been bothered by the music the gramophone had been playing. "I can get that off if you wish."

And Athrun recalled now, that it had been a rather famous Puccini opera. Even after working with Greyfriars for four years now, he still found the man to be rather cultured and difficult to truly hate at times or hold in disapproval. Yet, a man driven by revenge was capable of anything. Athrun knew that very clearly.

"If Greyfriars harms the Crown Princess," Athrun said in a low voice, "I will kill him myself."

"That I take upon myself." His friend said heavily. "You are worth too much to take on that risk. Those under him are not men but beasts. The last time we saw them, it was dining with madmen and wretches without hope of redemption. I should have found another way to keep her safe. Your colleague was the one who was supposed to guard her. But nothing prevented Freja from being taken away."

"Don't blame the Sixth." Athrun said morosely. "It was beyond her control at that time, since she had been ordered back for an inquiry. Even if she had been there, she would have probably been unable to prevent the kidnapping of her highness, simply because it was an insider job."

His friend's voice was a cry of anguish. "The people who harm Freja will take double of what they do to her, if they dare lay a hand on her."

At this point, Athrun studied his friend. His friend's hair was no longer its natural colour-blond. Once, it had almost been white light. It was now dyed a dark chestnut, and he looked as unassuming as a local. Athrun's rather conspicuous hair was hidden under a cap, and he wore thick-rimmed glasses that altered his features significantly. Perhaps they needn't have bothered. There were so many tourists around them that they were already faceless and without identity.

He grasped his friend's shoulder and said briskly, "I am already seeking an audience with Greyfriars. This trip ends in two hours. I return after this. I will try to convince him to let her go. In a few hours time, I will be seeing them."

"Will you go alone?" The man said wearily. He ran his gloved hand through his hair. "You know you don't stand a chance against him and all his followers- the last time both of us went, you saw how many there were. By now, he would have gained even more supporters. You know they won't rest until the world is forced to recognize and address Denmark's plight."

"Believe me." Athrun interrupted, shaking his friend's shoulder slightly. "This time, I will not hold back."

The man beside him looked at him with hollow eyes. "I must caution you. Don't be rash when in Greyfriars' presence. And as much as you care for everyone but yourself, don't throw your life away. You're worth more alive than dead."

"I am a soldier." Athrun replied quietly.

His companion stared at him. "But you've failed as one."

Athrun swallowed. "We couldn't do more than watch over the Crown Princess Any other overt protection would have made the enemies suspect more. And if we had spoken to her and told her the truth, she might not have believed us. Or she might have wanted to leave the palace to find you. In doing that, she would be giving up her position- an abdication that would nullify all we had been trying to achieve. Telling her the truth would have put everyone at risk. That's why you had to leave in secret and let her mourn for you."

His friend looked into the distance as they moved forward. "I wasn't referring to that. I don't blame you and the other Eyes. But you have failed in your duty as a soldier by caring for the pawns within your game."

"What do you mean?" Athrun said warily.

"I am a pawn but you feel pity for me."

Athrun shook his head. "I have never seen you as a pawn. I may have deemed many as such because of necessity, but not you."

"Here we are," The man said tiredly. "Within the same world that has forgotten about us and assumed our deaths for so long."

"Not forever, though." Athrun reminded him. "The six months are passing as we speak."

His friend turned a corner, slipping away into the shadows as the saints on the bridge stared down at the world. But as he left, he removed his dark glasses and the regal features that Athrun caught a glimpse of were telling of who Erik Strumsson had once been. The blonde, almost white hair had been dyed a nondescript brown, and the wan look in his friend's face made him look very different.

Erik Strumsson- a fugitive now, hiding in shadows now, a man who had once been the husband of the Crown Princess of Sweden. While she was barren, he had earned so much favor from the king and Scandinavia that he had been the likely heir to the throne of Sweden and leader of all Scandinavia. All that was in the past now.

Athrun Zala and Erik Strumsson- they were both men who had forgone their names and identities to protect people who would never quite understand them.

"But when these six months pass," Erik Strumsson said quietly, turning back to regard Athrun, "We will both regain what we lost."

* * *

A pile of newspaper clippings and tea lay between them. Cagalli did not care to eat, for she found no appetite despite the tempting sweet scent of freshly-brewed tea and strong, black coffee with milk and sugar if one wanted it. Breakfast was freshly-made croissants and a skillfully-made truffle and olive oil omelette that Epstein was already tucking into. The cook, Laplacia, had certainly outdone herself.

On the other hand, she did not eat but took each clipping, reading greedily, taking in each word as fully as she should have the food before her. The ink of the paper was equivalent to the nourishment she needed, for Cagalli was absorbing everything she could that she had gained from her deal with Athrun.

Those clippings spanned the dates she had been missing- those were taken from various newspapers. And yet, all those confirmed her fears, the very ones she had predicted ever since she had awoken and found herself a captive.

Epstein told her, bit by bit, all that had gone on beyond The Isle, and she listened, rapt with attention. While his incessant eating, constant chewing and calm manner made the situation strangely normal, Cagalli was filled with apprehension.

First, he told her that Kira Yamato had assumed power as the Proxy of Orb- while taking bites of a sausage croissant that flaked all over his napkin.

He and his wife had been discharged from their duties as a Zaft general and the head diplomat respectively, Epstein informed her while distracted with the blueberry jam he was licking off his fingers. Currently, Kira Yamato had convinced Orb to tolerate Scandinavia's lack of response to the situation.

Cagalli nodded, trying to remain calm about what she was hearing. She had not predicted this, but with her twin at the helm, she felt slightly more at ease.

Epstein was spreading butter very liberally on his toast. He looked more casual than he appeared, but there was a tension in his face that she similarly felt.

Fom the looks of things, Kira Yamato would be unable to hold Orb together. More than a few Orb ministers were advocating war against Scandinavia- including Sweden, Norway and Denmark. Orb was certainly keen for war- most were unhappy with how their princess had disappeared from the SS Rafael and the lack of explanation for that.

In fact, Scandinavia and the Swedish Heads had a general lack of explanation for anything that went on within their borders- nobody and no information had entered or left the region ever since Cagalli Yula Atha had disappeared that night. Any forceful intervention by any country or superpower would now be seen as a violation of international laws.

For now, Orb was obeying and supportive of Kira Yamato because he had made a promise to Orb in the event that Scandinavia did not produce the Orb Princess with a valid account of her disappearance within a given time period.

He had promised Orb war.

If Scandinavia failed to do so within the time that Orb gave it, then Orb would storm Scandinavia- starting with Sweden, then the other countries.

"How long will Orb give Scandinavia?" Cagalli asked desperately.

"From the time you were brought here," He said quietly. "Orb gave Scandinavia six months."

She stared at him, not seeing anything.

In the meantime, Orb was requesting a legal declaration from the Galactic Court of Justice that it was not in violation of international laws. The court comprised of representatives from every super power, but this was working against them since there were too many vested interests in this one situation.

If Cagalli Yula Atha had been in violation of an act or statute where Scandinavia was concerned, it would have been permitted for Scandinavia to take her into custody and have the right to jurisdiction under the principal of the presence of the offender. But it was unlikely that this was the case, and Scandinavia could cite no instance of any violation on her part.

Moreover, as the key state representative and a diplomat in her own rights, she had immunity from jurisdiction in Scandinavia. Even if she had done something against Scandinavia or even Orb's laws, the most Scandinavia could have done to her was to declare her persona non grata and request that she leave immediately. Her disappearance and presumed kidnapping may or may not have been carried out by Scandinavia, but it was probably the former case. Besides, Scandinavia's actions or the lack thereof regarding the case suggested that the countries within the region were involved and therefore reluctant to investigate in a transparent manner. Yet, this was precisely what Orb was demanding for. Even before Kira Yamato had assumed leadership of Orb, the government had already requested that Scandinavia allow the Orb troops to enter the region and investigate in co-operation with the Scandinavian troops. Scandinavia had refused, and Orb had sought permission from the Galactic Court.

"Naturally," Epstein said heavily, "Those representing the Earth Alliance are unwilling to give Orb this permission. The sovereignty and security of Scandinavia will is at risk. If Orb is given the permission to storm Scandinavia, whether it does or not, the Earth Alliance will look like it is submissive towards Orb. Already, the Earth Alliance has pledged quite a few territories to Orb these seven years, since the Second War ended, and the Alliance doesn't want Plant, Orb and its own territories to think that it is overtly subjected to Orb's wishes. It doesn't want to kowtow to Orb anymore than it has to."

Cagalli folded her hands under her chin, frowning. "And of course, the Orb representatives are still trying to convince the Galactic Court to grant this permission to storm Scandinavia. From what you say, I understand that the Orb representatives in the Galactic Council have unanimously argued for this permission rather than the option of leaving it to Scandinavia's security troops?"

"Yes. Nationalistic sentiments are higher than Orb has ever seen." Epstein agreed. He set down the teacup he had put three cubes of sugar in with the rest of his coffee. "And the Orb media has been aggravating this-,"

He directed her eyes to the article clippings he had supplied her with. There were depictions of her, photographs featured on front pages, splashed across papers with bold headlines cursing Scandinavia and mourning her disappearance. There were plenty which had either hinted or openly symbolized Orb's survival with the Orb Princess, and Cagalli knew the effect it must have had on the readers.

She drew in a sharp intake of breath. "I can't let Kira cave in to anyone's demands! These papers are making the people irrational over my disappearance!"

"But do you really think he promised them war only because they would listen to him that way?" Epstein questioned. "For that matter, do you really think the papers are talking about sentiments that don't already exist?"

Cagalli looked at him, her eyes wide.

"These papers print these mostly because your people love you very much." Epstein said mildly. "It is a self-fuelled loop, do you see? The media prints what people want to believe, and people believe what the media prints. The parliament allows it, because they want the support of the people, and they want you to return as well. Most of the parliament wants war- they don't want to take this lying down, and they've allowed the media to do as it likes."

"Those fools!" She cried. She stood, dragging her chair back, no longer calm but impassioned with panic. "How could my parliament give the media such freedom at this time, at this point of time? How could they allow nationalistic feelings to run Orb and its territories instead of their brains?"

Wretchedly, Cagalli ran a hand through her hair. She stared at the food, ignoring the pangs of hunger, and she watched as Epstein calmly poured tea into her cup and used the silver tongs to direct a croissant onto her yet-unused plate.

Epstein smiled gently, motioning her to sit down. "But surely you have seen a man in love before?"

She swallowed, staring at him, sinking back and trying to focus on the present. It struck her that she had barely eaten anything for last night's dinner, and that she was feeling weak with hunger now. "What?"

"I'm sure you have." Epstein said softly, reaching over and sweeping all the materials into a pile of black and white. This was the last of what Athrun was granting her. Clearly, Epstein also wanted her to focus on breakfast and sustaining herself. Ruefully, she looked at him, unable to be distracted by the clippings that he would take away after this.

"And what is the relevance of that?" Cagalli said, almost too defiantly.

"Well," He said carefully, looking directly at her. He took a sip of his coffee with a calm that thinly masked the significance of what he was saying.

"You will know that the man, no matter how clever, rational or principled he is, will stoop to anything he can to exact revenge on the person who hurts his lover."

* * *

Sheba Velasco was reporting to the Eyes' superior. He could see her although she could not, but she trusted the speaker enough to know that it was he. Still, the first time she had met the board of superiors, she had been surprised to see that one of them, this current superior in fact, had been even younger than her. There were nothing like family connections, she supposed, even if one was already competent and fairly talented.

Now, the screen flickered, not showing any image of the man she had only recently met while back in Plant. The voice that spoke was comically squeaky although there was nothing particularly humorous about what the superior was saying.

"Yes." She answered regretfully. "It was carelessness on my part. My aides too."

"Don't speak of carelessness at this point." The voice said brusquely. Despite its jumbled nature to hide the speaker's identity, the tone was still very clear. "It was the Council's fault as much as yours. We sent you back at the time when she was captured. But it was a mistake we could not forsee or prevent. Nevertheless, Freja Magdalena Harraldsson would have been captured even if you had been there."

"What actions can the Eyes take now?" Sheba asked.

"You will carry on as per normal." The voice instructed. "Continue to report at the Swedish Palace, because the Scandinavian Heads are ultimately still the Swedish Royals. The Swedish family still have the power to act on behalf of the entire Scandinavian region. That could affect the relations between Orb and Scandinavia- and the rest of the Earth Alliance, in fact."

"Roger."

"Second Eye, report."

"Present, sir."

"Fine. How is the progress on the talks between Orb and Scandinavia?"

"From what I understand sir," Lent said clearly, "The Swedish powers are arguing that they could not have planned the Orb Princess's disappearance."

"What proof are they offering?" The voice demanded.

"The Swedish representatives claimed that their own guards and other guests were wounded during the scuffle that night. And by their logic, they would not have planned something that harmed their own people. This was refuted very quickly by the Earth Alliance, which was judging the meeting as a third party. But it ended badly because a few Swedish representatives accused the Earth Alliance representatives as siding Orb."

"Have the terms Orb offered to Sweden and thereby Scandinavia changed?" The voice was brusque even by squeaking-standards.

"No." Lent replied hastily. "But my aide has informed me that the SS Rafael assailant the Swedish Heads managed to detain has died while in captivity and torture."

"Did the Scandinavian heads get any information out of him?" The voice said in mild interest.

"They tortured him for information until he just caved in and died." Lent said regretfully. "That single Greyfriars-supporter was their only information source- the only way they would have understood the details of the hijacking that night."

"How could they go overboard and lose their only way of getting information?" the superior said in disbelief.

"No, sir." Lent said quickly. "He committed suicide when the other guards were being careless. He bit his tongue."

"That is to our advantage though." The voice said firmly. "If dead people can't talk, then another of our secrets will be kept for now." And does Orb know that Scandinavia had a clue to the Orb Princess' disappearance?"

"No sir. They don't even know that Sweden and therefore Scandinavia has now lost the only potential informant."

"Fine. For now, remain in the Scandinavian Secret Intelligence Bureaucracy and report if anything changes."

"Yes, sir."

"Is the Fifth Eye here yet?" The voice turned slightly aggressive. "I have much I need him to report about. The Council has heard that he gives the Orb Princess a far wider berth than what is necessary and recommended."

"He is here." Athrun stepped up, next to Sheba. She retreated, taking her seat along the circumference of the large oval table that most of the Eyes were usually seated around. Lent took his seat too, and they both stared at him, sensing that their superior had little patience for him today.

Today, there were only Sheba Velasco, Lent Mortimer, and Rune Estragon present. The rest were either out on missions or if they happened to be a certain Tom Edgeworth, gorging themselves on calamari in Lent's kitchens.

"You idiot, Zala!" The voice rose in frequency until it was almost a mouse squeak speaking in what was still unmistakeably a wild anger. "You brought her out to sea?"

"A holiday." Athrun said flatly. "She would have driven herself mad otherwise."

"How dare you forget what she means in all of this!" The voice had lost its earlier show of control and authority with Sheba. "You asshole- you know what would happen if she got captured by Greyfriars! That yacht you brought out to sea- didn't it once belong to him? What if he had a way of tracking you down and capturing her? Did you know the risks you were taking?"

"I do know." Athrun was speaking impudently now, but he could not care less. "I won't allow it to happen."

"You better not! And from what I heard, she's been allowed to wander around in that mansion of yours?"

Athrun looked at Lent Mortimer, who had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. Miles Summon, an aide of the Second Eye, must have told his master when Athrun had discharged him of his duty and sent him back.

"There is no harm in that." Athrun said mildly.

If their superior knew that Athrun had done more than bring Cagalli on a holiday and let her wander around the mansion, the screen might have exploded by now. Certainly, it their superior knew that she had laid in his bed and he had traded information so he could touch her, there would have been a field day.

"No harm!" The voice sputtered. "You must be joking, Zala! You know as well as all of us do that there is a whole bunch of fugitives being held in that mansion! You know as well as I do that if she finds them, she could unravel everything that we've worked for all these years!"

"But she won't." Athrun said firmly. "She is only allowed to move around in specific corridors. She is under surveillance by my own aides."

"And do they have clear instructions?" The voice demanded.

"Yes." He said unflinchingly. "They will not hesitate to bind her completely if she tries anything."

Sheba muttered something under her breath. No doubt, she did not approve, but she could not argue against it at this point.

"Fine." The superior said. "Just don't do anything stupid, Zala, I mean it. Even I can't save that sorry ass of yours if you do something that fucks the operation up."

Athrun laughed slightly. "No, sir."

There was a pause.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you were a subordinate, calling me sir." The voice said ruefully.

"Well sir," Athrun said quietly, "Neither of us expected Rune Estragon to be here today." He reached forward and pressed a button, cutting off the connection.

The screen went completely blank.

Now, Athrun was left to face Lent Mortimer and Sheba Velasco.

They stared at him, not commenting on his obvious familiarity with their supervisor. Lent stood slowly, as tall as Athrun, but with an age that was finally catching up with his boyishness. Sheba stood too, no longer disguised as the Swedish Princess' head bodyguard, and her white hair fell in a snowy heap over her shoulders.

Athrun was privately glad that they were silent, and he kept quiet too. As he strode from the room, shutting the door and his thoughts along with it, he felt the gun and knife he kept in his coat beat a cold rhythm against his heart.

He had no time to worry about what they thought of him. They too, had no time to worry about him. Each Eye had plenty to worry about.

Greyfriars was waiting for him.

But inside, it was inevitable that the two other Eyes discussed the Fifth Eye, who had just left. Although Sheba seemed uninterested in discussing Rune Estragon, Lent knew otherwise. He took the opportunity to observe his colleague.

Lent had always thought of Sheba as a young girl. It was an inconceivable perception of someone like Sheba Velaso, for she appeared sophisticated and cynical at points. But still, Syilbia Van Der Merwe was as she had been so many year ago- a dark-haired little gypsy, a child when he had met her. This snow-haired woman with the scars she carried within her did not seem to be what he remembered.

"Isn't it strange?" He said to himself, drinking a bit of his coffee.

Sheba looked up from where she was sitting, far on the other side of the conference table. Lent's domain was where most of them reported to, for it was the most central of the isles. She shifted a pile of reports she had been reading through, and stared at him. Her pure white hair had been tied to prevent interruption to her work and her heavily pierced ears glinted with silver.

"You mean that exchange between Estragon and Superior Seven?" She questioned, folding her arms. "But what's new?"

Lent laughed dryly, going along with what she thought he was thinking of. "The overt mention of the Orb Princess, that's what. I know it makes sense for them to be talking about her in great detail- she is after all, under the Fifth's charge. But then, it was strange still. Of course, Estragon has always been strange, so there's nothing unusual there."

She looked at him warily. "I knew there was reason why you so readily volunteered June Requiem and sent her to the Fifth Isle.'

Lent shrugged embarrassedly. "Same reason why Leopold so willingly volunteered Miles Summon to tend to the injured Orb Princess. The Fifth deemed his aides less capable in seeing to the wound the Orb Princess sustained, so he was receptive to taking my aide. But you know as well as I do that I sent my aide there to keep an eye on the Fifth. Of course, he caught on quite quickly to what we were doing and sent the aides back as soon as she had recovered sufficiently."

Sheba allowed herself a small smile, although it seemed more of a grimace. "The Fifth probably knew what you were up to the minute you volunteered your aide. But he didn't have a choice then, if he wanted the best medical care he could get from the existing aides."

"There's always a reason to why he acts the way he does, I think." Lent elaborated. "He could have become his first aide's father- but he didn't allow that to happen."

"Why's that strange?" She questioned. "Nobody wants to have more emotional burden."

"But I'm not sure that he wants to avoid becoming close to people he may eventually have to sacrifice." Lent pressed. "I think he's capable of being very frighteningly rational- cold-blooded professionalism if you like. But then he brought the Orb Princess to Rochester's manor, and he told us that it was to give her some space- to let her relax, if you like. Do you think it was a matter of him preserving her for our cause and his survival? Or do you think there was also a deeper reason to it. Don't you realize that Number Ten tolerates him in a manner we wouldn't expect and even shields him from all the other superiors' questions?"

She closed her eyes, rubbing her neck. It was somehow sore, and she hadn't slept very well for the past few days. Freja Magdalena was surely in trouble, even now, and there was nothing Sheba could do about it.

"But Rune's behaviour was clearly questionable since about four years ago," Lent said sceptically, "That kind of behaviour would have made Number Ten crack if it had been anyone except Rune Estragon."

"That's true." Sheba admitted. "Estragon wanted to leave the Fifth Isle."

"He wanted to bring that girl away before she could get mixed into all of this." Lent added. "I thought she was supposed to be a pawn in his plans- our plans. So why did he bother with her so much? He gave her more than he had to just to make her leave the Cliffside. It was unnecessary. He could have simply forced her to return to wherever she'd come from. He spent more than he needed, he did more than necessary to get rid of her. But doing so much to earn her trust when he didn't even need it for our purposes?

"I suppose what he was doing for her was quite little when you considered that he eventually wanted to leave the Isle for her." Sheba said coolly.

Lent studied her. "At the expense of sounding crude and uncouth, do you think he did so much just to own her? From what I remember, he set her up in some house somewhere. While the danger of doing that and keeping someone's companionship regularly is a very dangerous thing on The Isle, Lyra Delphius is a rather fetching woman."

"Maybe he loved her." Sheba said. But she could not keep the doubt from entering her voice.

"I think not." Her colleague rebutted immediately. "If he had, he would never have gotten close to her."

Sheba laughed, and she could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Not everyone is as noble as you are. Sanders certainly wasn't. If he had been half as noble, he would have never let himself grow close to anyone."

Lent furrowed his brow, but did not tell her what he thought. He was not in the place to tell Sheba that Sanders had not meant to fall in love with her, but few could have resisted for as long as Sanders had. Sheba had similarly, fallen for Sanders and they had been sure that their happiness would last for forever. And when Sanders had died, Sheba had been so broken that she had never quite recovered. In response, Lent decided to focus back on Rune Estragon, although in many ways, that was dwelling on the topic.

"It's unlikely that someone as careful as Rune Estragon would give away so much to be with a woman. He must have had a purpose for keeping or at least, allowing Lyra to be with him for so long."

"Lyra probably didn't even understand half the danger she was in by being with him. And Rune Estragon can be a good liar if he bothers- he even supplied her a white-picket fence, a house made of dreams. It was a dream, for that matter. " Sheba mentioned. "She was a woman in love- not the most observant or rational of creatures." She looked at Lent apathetically.

While she did not articulate it, her eyes told him, "I should know."

"Come now," Lent chided her. "Sanders' death wasn't exactly caused by Rune. Rune only wanted to protect those twin aides of his- that's why he objected to the uppers sending them into the Swedish Palace as spies. He couldn't prevent the fact that he was their teacher and had taught them to kill. But he wanted to prevent them from being put in situations where they would have to kill. Rune did have a sort of influence over who got sent to be spies in the palace, didn't want the twins embroiled in all this at a young age."

"So the uppers sent in Sanders." Sheba said numbly. She had been much younger then, and so optimistic- so hopeful to have Sanders return with his aides. They had been about to wed and she had been quite sure that she wanted white lilies for her wedding flower. Now, all that was left was a spray on her dressing table- the last of a wreath that had melted and withered in flames.

"He didn't count on Sanders being all alone in that palace and being so vulnerable to the politics within it." Lent said somberly. "Rune didn't know that Sanders was in such great risk by continuing to be a spy there. For that matter, none of us knew that Sanders would have died like that."

"I know." Sheba said softly. "I don't blame him. But Rune blames himself for it. He even blames himself for agreeing to train the twins. The uppers convinced him it was the only way to help them to survive when he found them as abandoned children. And he convinced himself that they were right. And now, five years later, I think he's realised that he has taken away their childhood."

"But what about four years ago?" Lent questioned. "He wanted to leave The Isle didn't he? He couldn't take the strain anymore, I think- which is why he wanted to leave. He was very adamant at that time. But he still stayed- that's why he's here today."

"I don't know what made him stay, actually." Sheba admitted. "The uppers spoke to him personally the day he handed in his resignation, so I don't know what they told him that made him stay on. I suspect it had something to do with Epstein Cleamont, his first aide."

"Why so?" Lent said, striding to pour himself and her a drink. She accepted it with a tiny nod of her head.

"Logically, if the Fifth Eye left, Epstein would have become the next Fifth Eye and taken over Rune's previous duties. Rune was always adamant not to let Epstein's hands get stained. I think Rune cares for that boy- more than either of them let on." A cold smile touched her lips. "The uppers were probably clever enough to pick up on that and use the boy to entice Rune to stay on."

"You think it's just that?" Lent questioned. "I think it's more than that. I think the reason why he stayed has got to do with Lyra Delphius."

"But he left her soon after he agreed to stay on," Sheba muttered. "Of course, his leaving her right after he agreed to stay would somehow make sense. That's because Rune was asked to stay on so he could enter Greyfriars' innermost circles. The danger would have made any sane person try and alienate himself from those he cared about."

Lent had removed his glasses and was rubbing the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that he was thinking very deeply. "But a year before he threw in the towel and wanted to leave, Rune was still trying to break into those circles. He was already moving in Greyfriars' circles. Surely, he couldn't afford to hang around that girl even then."

"Maybe the having to live even more dangerously made him want a clean break." Sheba said.

"Maybe that's why he left her for good when he decided to stay and progress upwards in Greyfriars' circles." Lent added on.

Sheba stared blankly at the wall behind Lent. She folded her arms. "In any case, her presence doesn't detract from the fact that since four years ago, Rune Estragon has been working in Greyfriars' innermost circles. All this was on the orders so he could get enough information to know when they were planning to take her to the Isle. And with their trust and information, he could be there on that night when they attacked the Swedish Royal Yacht that the Orb Princess was on."

"You really think so?"

"What's wrong with thinking so?" She shot back.

"You're assuming that he even planned to be on the yacht that night instead of Tom." Lent interrupted. "You're assuming that Rune Estragon had not been merely trying to get general information from Greyfriars' circle but very specific information. In other words, his agreeing to stay on since four years ago had been the starting point. He'd started working towards that very night when he would join those who targeted the SS Rafael."

"Isn't that a valid supposition?" Sheba said coolly. "Think about how adamant Rune was when we were deciding who would bring her back. Of course his arguments for why he ought to be the one approaching her rather than you were valid. But have you ever seen a more flustered, impatient Rune Estragon when we were discussing who ought to be on the SS Rafael?"

"No." Lent admitted. "He was more stubborn than usual. I was quite taken aback when he raised his voice and insisted that he go instead of me. And while we accepted his reasons, I always thought it was something more than that. But I'm not sure."

"Neither am I." Sheba told her colleague. "Neither am I entirely sure of what the uppers told him that made him stay four years ago, but I can wager that it had something to do with Greyfriars and their plans regarding the Orb Princess."

"Why?"

Sheba drank, not saying anything. She did not know how to tell Lent about an event she had witnessed four years ago. That night, Rune Estragon had handed in his resignation by requesting a direct audience with their superiors. The meeting that had transired went on between the two parties, and the other Eyes had been ordered to keep away. But from what Sheba inferred, Rune had spoken directly and privately to one of their superiors, but he had somehow agreed to stay on.

When he had emerged from the room and left the meeting grounds without a word, Sheba had been the only one still there to catch a glimpse of him. Of course, they had already heard word from the eavesdropping Tom who had been the only one foolish or brave enough to eavesdrop a little. What they all understood was that the Fifth Eye had somehow agreed to stay on. The Fifth Eye and the Fifth Isle would be status quo.

But the broken expression in her colleague's eyes had stuck in her mind. And that night, Sheba had tailed him.

Rune Estragon had been staying in a house he'd purchased for himself and a person Sheba presumed was his lover. At that time, he'd lived there for slightly more than a year when he was not on his missions.

That night, he had been distracted that night- he hadn't noticed Sheba following him. Or perhaps, he hadn't cared at all. And that night, Sheba had waited in a nearby alley, in her car, and watched the lights in the house. No fighting, no shouting, no smashing sounds, nothing. All seemed normal- this instance seemed no different from all the times she'd spent keeping an eye on her colleague and his companion seemed.

But then, an hour later, Sheba had watched him emerge from the house with a suitcase or two. And he had gotten into his car, his face pale, his eyes not seeing anything. Sheba had watched him drive off into the night.

Lyra Delphius hadn't followed when he had left.

Nor did Sheba know how to tell Lent that she had found out recently what Athrun Zala had been doing before he had rejoined Zaft in the Second War. He had done more than served as the Orb Princess' bodyguard, certainly.

But as she drank, she must have frowned a little, for Lent looked at her sharply. And she knew that he was aware that she was hiding something. He bent forward very slightly. "Sheba?"

"I visited the Plants just half a week ago." She told Lent in a low voice. "I was allowed to take leave, remember?"

"For Sanders' death anniversary." He muttered. "I know."

"It was our wedding anniversary too." She said quietly. "I was given the permission, and this time, I visited the engagement archives in the Home Affairs' section in the Supreme Chamber."

Lent had never been in that section, but he knew that it was a massive library, an archive of all the Plant records that had ever been there.

"I went there to look at the old documents I'd once signed with Sanders. The General was very kind to let me have a pass into those archives even though I'd recently failed him where the Swedish Princess was concerned. Nobody else gets in there on a normal basis." She told him this flatly, and he knew she was fighting for control.

"I went in there just to- to remember."

He adjusted his glasses slowly, fighting the urge to bring her into his arms by focusing on the issue instead. "And?"

"How many names begin with 'Z'?" She said in an even more unreadable voice.

He stared at her, not understanding at first. And then suddenly, he gaped. "You found and looked into the Zala House's records?"

She nodded. "It was inevitable. Sanders Gargery was known as Frederick Yule before he came to the Isle. Y-U, just a few files before Z-A."

"And what did you find?" His voice was hushed.

And Sheba lost her nerve there and then. She could not tell Lent. She had not told Tom either. She had no right to, she realised. She had no right probing into Rune Estragon's history when he was trying to forget it.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." She said, lying through her teeth "But don't you think it's funny how suspicion can make us do silly things like check old archives hoping for some headway on something?"

But Lent said slowly, aware that she was still telling half-truths. "Do you really think that Rune Estragon stayed because of his first aide and Lyra Delphius? If he had stayed for Lyra Delphius, why would he have left so soon if he had stayed for her? I know it made sense to leave, but surely not so soon?"

"Lent," Sheba said at the same time, setting aside her glass. "I think both of us guessed the exact opposite of what compelled Rune Estragon to stay. For that matter, we totally misread the strange coincidence that Cagalli Yula Atha could pass off as Lyra Delphius on the night of Rochester's party. Maybe coincidence played a large part of it- but not all."

Lent began to shake his head furiously. He understood, Sheba saw suddenly.

"Impossible. Not this way- no. It can't be."

"Why not?" Sheba said calmly. She had already gone through her own shock when she had found what she had in the archives.

"He loved Lyra Delphius." Lent said numbly. "He must have loved her."

"Did he?" Her voice was cool with skepticism. "And what makes you say that?"

"For Pete's sake, Lyra, Rune Estragon married Lyra Delphius!"

"And therefore, he must have loved her?" She looked at Lent diffidently. "That's what we all thought. But is it really?"

"Even though the uppers were strongly against it, he went against them." Lent stammered. "He wanted to leave the Isle with her. No- it can't be- impossible."

She took a deep breath in. "But don't you see, Lent? It is possible. Maybe he married her because he loved her. Maybe he married her because he didn't. We don't know why he married Lyra Delphius. But all this time, we thought Rune Estragon did the things he did because of a native he fell for."

"Were we all wrong?" Lent said in a hushed voice.

"Do you think he stayed on for Epstein- no, Erlich Hoffman? A mere pawn?" She questioned in return. "Do you really think he stayed on in a place he loathed so much for Lyra Delphius-someone he'd met and used in the same place he hated? I think not. Maybe he cared for them, but I'm not sure if he would stay here for so long for their sakes."

"The way Estragon carried out his duty at Rochester's party should have indicated everything. It isn't that the Orb Princess can be disguised as Lyra Delphius." Lent concluded softly.

Sheba ran a hand across her face, rubbing tiredly. But her eyes never left Lent's.

He was articulating their thoughts and what they now knew was the truth. "All this time, it was the other way around."

"Lyra Delphius bears a resemblance to Cagalli Yula Atha." Sheba concluded.

They stared at each other.

And Sheba realized it was only a matter of time before Lent found out that Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha were recognized by Plant's legislation as husband and wife.

* * *

From what Cagalli could observe, the Manor seemed to function like a gigantic machine, running by itself, its cogs and gears invisible, noiseless, and efficient. It was an extraordinary household that ran systematically, a clockwork jail of its own making.

She had been able to leave her room after Epstein had come to her with the information Athrun had instructed him to give her.

Laplacia had essentially turned her out, giggling that it wouldn't do anyone any harm, and Cagalli found herself a bit lost. The maze of the corridors, some with locked doors, some with open doors, was confusing her- there was so much to roam in that she ended up not doing much of it at all. Left to her own devices, she found that she had lost the will to find an escape route. How ironic it was!

She was sometimes alone, but there was usually one of Athrun's subordinates who accompanied her. Once, when she was alone in one of the rare moments when she was walking along a corridor that had become somewhat familiar to her.

And Cagalli heard a tinkle of bells and she had caught a glimpse of a beautiful, dark-haired woman in a flowing black kimono with intricate patterns all over it. The woman's hair was loose, and it streamed far below her waist. Of course she had noticed Cagalli- but then it was hard to not notice a wide-eyed, openly staring Cagalli with her form frozen in the corridor.

And the woman had looked at her, smiling very slightly to reveal white tips of teeth like a fox's. Her dark eyes were like spots of ink in a white mask with a small petal-like mouth. Cagalli, some two feet away, had remained slack-jawed at the person she had never seen in the place before.

Then the woman had bowed. Clearly and unmistakably, she had bowed.

Cagalli had tried to say something- to respond, at least.

But then, the woman had daintily turned a corner, walking with such tiny steps and with such efficiency that she seemed to have floated away and vanished. When Cagalli asked, Epstein would not tell Cagalli more about the woman except that her name was Kitani Harumi and that she was a business partner of Rune Estragon's.

When Epstein said that, Cagalli had stared at him. In her mind, she had replayed how delicate the woman's face had been, how white and soft her hands had been. A business partner. And Cagalli had wondered what this helpless feeling was- this knowledge that Athrun could probably have and probably had every person that he wanted.

These days, Cagalli found herself feeling more and more isolated, despite her freedom to roam in the Manor. She would have fought for any bit of knowledge she could about the place once. In the past, Cagalli had even gone as far as to count the number of steps here and there and write it down, hoping to map the Manor completely. Athrun had punished her for it before- and only his threat of her total entrapment had deterred her.

But now, even when she had all the time to record down what she understood of the place, she found no will to analyze what she had taken down.

Cagalli did not know why. Perhaps, it was the unconscious realization that Athrun would have never let her out if there had been information she could use to escape. The fact that she was wandering around now meant that there was no chance of her escaping anyway.

Yet, that actually contradicted what she understood to be Athrun's hostile reaction when he had found out that she was trying to learn her way around and escape. Why had he worried about her learning about the place then, and why was he not worried now?

She also tried to figure out why Athrun had let her out of the room, despite his stony expression the night they had still been on his yacht, when he had told her otherwise. Had he somehow taken what she'd offered while thinking that he owed her this marginal bit of freedom? Had she given more than required, which would somehow explain why he let her roam freely like this? She didn't know. She was too afraid to know.

But at present, Cagalli found herself in Epstein and the twins' company, and they made her laugh and smile more than she had expected herself to. The girls were still a bit guarded towards her and she towards them. Yet, she found herself liking both of them more and more. They were silent for most part, communicating in silent glances and spare, unnoticeable movements, but when she spoke to them, not as their master's captive but as merely Cagalli, how they opened up to her!

On the other hand, she could not appreciate Epstein more than she already did.

He was a valuable guide, telling her what she needed to know about the life on The Isle. While Epstein was forbidden to be specific, what he could offer was good enough for her to establish an impression of the Isle-dwellers.

Unlike Athrun, however, Epstein seemed fine about talking about his past. He told her as much as he could without revealing anything, which amounted to very little. But still, Cagalli was pleased that he seldom refused her although he could not accede to her requests either.

The days went by quickly enough with Esptein and the twins as her companions. She often requested for Epstein's company when she had been bored with looking into beautiful, empty rooms with no sign of human warmth. Like Athrun's bedroom, those had no indication that anybody used them on a daily basis.

And Epstein regularly brought her to a little stone room where the wind blew freely and into the parameters of the place. He opened a passageway, rather like the one between her and Athrun's room. For Epstein and her, they used the passage and the stone tower quite frequently, when they wanted to talk privately.

On one occasion, Epstein was sitting in a corner with his legs stretched out, facing her and reading her face rather than his novel. The tower was large and airy, and the windows lining the walls displayed only a distant sea. Still, Cagalli knew better than to ask certain questions.

The curtains blew and gave them both the appearance of wayward, lazy children. They were silent for a while, until Epstein spoke.

"Your father reminds me of my own parents." Epstein said after a pause.

She lifted her eyes to him. "What?"

"Our parents didn't really want us- they were too hungry for power to really want their own children to love." Epstein said suddenly. And then his mouth parted in surprise and his eyes looked petrified at his unconsciously verbalised thoughts. But then, those resumed their impenetrable, slightly baleful glaze.

Cagalli sat up and placed her feet on the ground, despite one lacking a shoe. Her eyes were searching. "Epstein- what do you mean? You keep speaking in riddles- and I want to know exactly-,"

"I apologise," He said guardedly, cutting her off. "I spoke out of turn."

He looked at her stubbornly, with a mute suffering, and he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

She looked at his crestfallen face and knew he was forbidden to speak. So Cagalli did not have the heart to ask questions he had no answers to give.

Still, what he said played in her mind, that both of their parents had loved power too much. Perhaps, he had found out what she had been hiding. Perhaps, he had his own secrets too. But that only made her convinced that Athrun held the key to everything, regarding information outside and on the Isle.

Despite Epstein's inability to tell her what he knew, the both of them spent many tranquil hours in that stone tower, talking and discussing what they liked or disliked, a bit like playmates that had just been introduced but would spend a lifetime together. On many days, they would watch the twins frolic and play tag, both of them joining in the game as well, and their little moments of happiness would resonate for the rest of the day.

She felt attached to that room, the circular little stone walls and the windows that opened and seemed to be films of blue because the tower was so high that the sky and sea seemed to merge.

His favourite place, in contrast, was the garden. For the second week that Athrun was away, Cagalli accompanied Epstein to the massive stretches of garden and plants that he tended.

While Cagalli had little interest in flowers and plants, she rather enjoyed the process of planting seeds and watching as shoots pushed their way through the earth and bloomed. Flowers were pretty in and of themselves, she supposed, but she had no affinity for them as some women did. What she liked were gardens, not the cut stems of flowers in vases that were a pale misrepresentations of the wanton blooms on squadrons of shrubs,

The garden with the massive glass ceiling that she had first met Epstein in was the sort that one could tend to for a hobby but not for an occupation. For it was beautifully wild, untamable in certain respects, despite how some areas were very well pruned.

For most part though, large pockets of the garden were overgrown shrubberies of dog roses and the heat-bloomed bower of baby's breath and hollyhocks. There was lavender and roses in the corners, and there were water-lilies floating in the fountain, disguising themselves amongst the more regal lotus flowers. There were a few half-hearted attempts to prune some bushes into sculptures, but the hinted profile of these failed projects suggested that the previous sculptures had gone to seed. Naturally, Cagalli wondered if Athrun had fired his gardener or something to that effect.

During Athrun's absence, Cagalli found a little plot of land and with Epstein, planted dahlias and weeded dutifully, enjoying his presence.

"Strange," Cagalli remarked now. "I thought your master might have gotten a gardener to maintain this place."

Epstein grinned. "I'm the gardener, if I dare go as far as to call myself one at all. There are very few people living in this large place, so I suppose I must keep some order. My master is unlikely to have the time to weed as what we are doing now. I only come here when I have finished my work. But that is rarely."

"But you managed to plant all these!" Cagalli said brightly, gesturing to the rows of showy colour and dazzling blooms.

Those pockets of flowers looked slightly more orderly, with bright coloured dahlias, crocuses, a frangipani tree and a field of pale white poppies. Those towered over pink, balmy red clovers- something Cagalli suddenly noticed. Those seemed to be part of a distant dream- flowers like those at the dinner table when she had dined with Athrun, those flowers that he had once presented to her when she had been in a catatonic state.

He looked where she pointed. "Those plants there? Those are the offspring, the secondary shoots of the original plants. I didn't plant those- those were brought in here."

"By you?"

"No. I did not plant the originals, nor did I bring the cuttings here." His face was inscrutable.

"Then who did?" She said curiously.

The blooms wavered in the slight breeze, and she bent to caress a petal with her fingertip.

He continued to weed quietly, and Cagalli bit her tongue back.

This was an unspoken agreement between them- an agreement to avoid disagreement. If he could not offer answers, he would keep quiet, and she would not press on. It made no contribution to their friendship. But it did not hinder their relationship either, and that was how she wanted it.

"Soon." She promised herself, not realising that a look of determination had entered her face. "I'll know The Isle's secrets one day."

Within these two weeks, the Isle was less of a stranger to her, and she knew that she was actually becoming attached to it. For all its secrecy, there was a consistency to where things were placed and the small enclosure of her room.

Miles Summon and June Requiem did not seem to be anywhere, and this puzzled her. But as far as knew, she was still obliged to taking the medicine Miles Summon had prescribed- and the maids saw to it that she took it regularly.

Athrun's aides brought her paints even though she hadn't requested for any, and she began painting grey lines and cyan strokes of the sea and sky. Although she had enjoyed painting as a child, she found that the touch of the brush was especially easy and the colours melded effortlessly on her canvas. Also, Epstein could paint decently, and he taught her some techniques that she took to immediately.

And since Epstein knew enough to recognize skill and talent, he found that her paintings were impressive even though she laughed them off as random dabs of paint. But still, he understood that she was pleased by his enjoyment of her paintings, and he found himself becoming more and more intrigued by his master's captive. If anything, their paintings made them more receptive to each other.

All in all, Cagalli was aware of what she needed to do, especially since she knew what state Orb and the Earth Alliance's relationship was in. If she could not return to Orb from The Isle, then Orb would simply have to hear her from The Isle. It was simple. If the mountain could not go to Mohammed, Mohammed would simply have to go to the mountain. Or Mohammed could send a representative. She had to return before Orb waged war on Scandinavia. But she could not. Something would have to go there in her stead- and she plotted as she painted.

As she painted, Cagalli plotted.

It was clear that the obstacles Athrun put in place would have to function as stepping stones. The walls of her room, the walls of this manor, the walls around himself- all those walls would not prevent her from returning as soon as possible. Athrun would help her in this, somehow.

On this day, she sat before an easel in the tower room, painting what she herself did not recognize to be the window and the walls surrounding it that framed what might have been a limitless sky.

But when she heard Cartesia calling her softly, she was shaken from her trance and realized what she had painted at the same time that Cartesia informed her of Athrun's return.

"I'm sorry Cartesia," She said tensely, putting aside the brush and slipping off the overall. "What did you say?"

"My master has returned." Laplacia said meekly, her sister standing behind her, both of them casting the same shadow into the tower.

As she stared at the child's face, Cagalli realised that it had been not one week as Epstein had claimed, but three weeks since she had last seen Athrun. Nothing, not least this window, easels and paints, would distract her thoughts from returning now.

Immediately, she got up from where she had been sitting in the room, staring at the messenger with an expression Laplacia felt slightly disconcerted by.

And she moved past Laplacia then her twin wordlessly, Cartesia asked timidly, pattering up to her mistress. "What are you going to do?"

She looked at the girl with uncertainty in her face. "I'm meeting your master."

Cartesia looked bewildered. "He didn't instruct me to send him to you. Nor did he tell me to inform you of his return. I did so merely to let you know."

"But it is understood that I will visit him, now that he has returned." Cagalli said boldly- but more boldly than she felt. If Athrun had not come to see her upon returning, or requested that his presence be made known to her, how dare she go to seem him herself?

"Still, Master Cleamont is coming tonight," Cartesia told her hesitantly. "He was instructed by the master to keep you company, because the master will not come."

"I know." Cagalli answered firmly. "But those are your master's plans- not mine."

"Your Grace," Laplacia beseeched her, "The master does not wish to see you-,"

"What?" Cagalli's eyes widened. If Cartesia's following her had made her pause, now, this understanding made Cagalli even more uncertain.

They exchanged long glances until Laplacia offered the information in a small voice.

"He's made it clear that he doesn't want to see you." The girl said piteously, shifting a little as she lowered her eyes, afraid to look at Cagalli. And as Cagalli stared at her, Laplacia took a quick glimpse and observed that the golden pupils had dilated and Cagalli's lower lip was trembling.

It was then that she looked at the maids, her face devoid of expression with her voice calm, and the maids saw that something in her had changed again.

When she spoke, looking directly at Laplacia, there was no room for disobeying her.

"I must see him no matter what."

Her expression, as Laplacia later and privately described to Epstein was 'one without sense, only instinct and something very- very driven in it. It was confused at first- something like fear and hurt, but then, it changed. Numb. Silent. Like she didn't know what to feel. Like she didn't know how to feel any more ."

And in his mind, Epstein reconciled what he knew of Cagalli's reaction with the state Athrun had been in upon his return and the instructions he had issued.

* * *

Cagalli knocked once, very tentatively.

There was no answer, so she assumed it was fine to go in. As she did, she closed the door securely, and then thought better of it and locked it quietly. Some doubt lingered in her mind as to why Epstein had needed to produce a key to unlock the library and let her in. But as far as she understood, certain rooms in this place could not be opened without permission- this was one of them.

Now, she chose to lock herself in, whereas she had been locked out only moments ago.

At the far end of the library, she saw that Athrun was a horizontal line on a sofa, his lips moving slightly but no sound coming forth. There didn't seem to be anything overtly wrong with him, since he appeared to be taking a nap, with his shoes left neatly by the side and one leg folded in a seven. The top half of his body was entirely obscured by the jet material of his jacket, and his appearance certainly suggested that he had strolled in and flung his jacket over himself as he had sunk into the sofa.

In her mind, Cagalli had expected him to be at the doorway, waiting to throw her out the minute she stepped in. But she had not expected this, certainly, although it would have been more likely that Athrun was resting rather than waiting to quarrel with her.

She stood awkwardly, wondering how to approach him. On one hand, she wanted to proceed with the next step of her plan. On the other, she knew he did not want to see her- and she despaired at how she was to make him agree to what she now had in mind. She had had that one chance on that night, and she must have blown it, Cagalli thought desperately. He would probably have thought that she was not worth his time when she had been wooden, hesitant and afraid to respond to his touch.

Cagalli glanced at her hands and saw that they were trembling. They felt clammy, but she could not turn and go- another day passed was another day lost. Orb was waiting for a war it would wage, and if Kira could not prevent that, then all would be lost. Cagalli could not allow that. In effect, her contract with Athrun had not given her peace of mind but made her more burdened- perhaps Athrun had been aware of this and had been so hesitant to enter the contract.

"Athrun."

He remained there on the couch, and his lack of response was not encouraging.

After a moment of contemplation, she found herself marching right up to him. In her mind, Cagalli found that she had no choice but to stand before him, without anyone to help her but her own efforts. Even Epstein had vanished after leading Cagalli to his master. He had seemed to be hesitant about letting Cagalli see his master. Still, Cagalli had been privately glad that Epstein would not witness what she was about to try and do.

Suddenly, she was the eleven year old who had operated on assumption and had nobody's help but her own nerve.

But a few metres short of reaching Athrun, Cagalli realized that he must have heard her, but had given no indication of acknowledging her presence. So she made a slight sound between a cough and embarrassed whimper, and despite herself, wondered why he hadn't gone to see her despite having free time.

He did not turn his head away from the wall to look at her, and Cagalli felt a tide of embarrassment rush up into her. His eyes were now slightly open in that infinitesimal manner that suggested he was entertaining sly thoughts. She made a silent prayer that they involved her, there and then. But he was ignoring her.

She studied him, thinking that from what she could see from the hint of his profile, Athrun looked strangely attractive while in this position. What she could see of his face was mostly blocked by his hair, and even his eyes were somewhat hidden by his lids and lashes. Still, Cagalli could see his mouth, and it had a slight frown even if parted in a manner that looked as if he was dreaming. She did not quite dare to go near, but she was drawn to him as much as she needed to be near him for her own agenda.

"Athrun." She said clumsily, not daring to close the meter between them. "What are you doing?"

He did not answer immediately, and she felt awkward and wondered why she could not take on what women far younger than her were already adept at. It suddenly occurred to her that she might have bothered washing up more thoroughly and putting on a dress and some make-up and perfume, but it was too late now.

Cagalli swallowed once, feeling ridiculously light-headed.

What would be like to run her hands below the jacket and feel the warmth of his body beneath the thin layer of his shirt? The last time, he had dominated. Would he allow her to measure the length of his forearms with her palms, to touch him as she had thought of doing all this time when he had been away?

It would be strange but tempting, Cagalli supposed, if he allowed her to put her hands around his bare waist and feel his heat radiating from the flesh. Perhaps she would put her lips and cheek to his waist and feel it expand and contract with his breaths.

She panicked at her wayward thoughts and decided to speak even if he was ignoring her.

"Er-," Cagalli began rashly, "Where were you?"

He didn't even look at her. His eyes opened a little more, but they did not seem to focus anywhere near her.

And at this point, she was desperate to know what he had been thinking the night he had brought her to his room and the subsequent morning when he'd merely covered what he'd claimed the night before, and left. Ironically enough, her question was useless.

"Where did you go?"

He turned his face a little to face her slightly now, and she saw an accusing expression in his eyes although he did not speak.

Feeling insulted and irrationally angry, she glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" He said brusquely. The first words he had spoken sounded like an insult now.

She lost her head in the next instant. "How dare you act as if I shouldn't ask! I know I shouldn't- I have no right to, but aren't you making me now? You're forcing me to ask me and to care about what you think of me, and how dare you show your disapproval towards me, you- !,"

Cagalli crossed the last of the distance between them and dropped to her knees, grabbing his face roughly by turning it completely towards her, along with him. In effect, she had forced him to look directly at her.

His still-obscured arms had not reached for her. In fact, Athrun looked dazed, astonished even, as if he could not comprehend why she was being so forward. It appeared to her that Athrun was only mildly annoyed and surprised at being disturbed from his rest. In essence, he felt nothing of her frustration nor understood her.

And Cagalli hated him there and then. If she had tried to convince herself that she did not feel enough for this person to hate or love him, then this was the point that she could not deny her feelings. She hated him for not knowing that he had affected her in so many ways when he had touched her that night. She hated him for leaving without saying anything to her- leaving her to an empty bed in the morning, even though they were technically not lovers. She hated him for rendering her plans useless. She hated him.

But as Cagalli let go of his shoulder, she saw that he had begun panting heavily. She stared at how pale he was, and gasped as she pressed a palm to his forehead.

"You're having a fever!" She exclaimed loudly- so loudly that he winced.

He looked at her, his eyes still unfocused, but Athrun abruptly sat up, surprising her into falling backwards. She would have, except that he had simultaneously reached forward to grab her to him, the jacket sliding off his chest.

For a split-second, she thought she saw insanity and fear in his eyes, rimmed with contempt that she did not understand. But then he pulled her up to him and kissed her demandingly even while she was in that awkward position of hers. There was a haphazard wanting and contact- but there was that awful, gnawing desire that made her wish she could drop everything, every single damn thing that kept her from him.

Naturally, Cagalli responded even when she knew not what she was doing. His hands brushed against her chest and she knew that even in his half-conscious state, he was re-claiming her. Her hands were pressing into his knees, her body like a cat's if it had been begging to be fed.

Athrun's face was unnaturally pale and his lips were ice. In her distracted state, she had not noticed the sweat around his brow and the white pallor of his face. Instantly, she regretted her lack of attention and she broke the kiss swiftly, looking down and seeing clearly, for the first time, that his shoulder was heavily but badly bandaged. It had been hidden by the jacket, but now, nothing would hide the stain of the wound.

"So," He said softly, his voice somehow very weak. "Why did you come to me?"

She was trying to disentangle herself from him, but he was still holding her in a very obstinate manner that seemed to be independent of his shoulder injury. "Let me go Athrun,- your shoulder's hurting you- you shouldn't be using your arm like this-,"

"Answer my question." He interjected faintly, an unmistakable suggestion of stubbornness entering his face. If he usually seemed obliging, at this point, he could not be refused.

"Because I wanted to see you." Cagalli said hesitantly, instantly regretting her honesty.

"Ah." He said in the same quiet, strange voice, like he was half-asleep but awake enough to comprehend. "And for what reason?"

"You're injured," She tried to say, in a wild attempt to distract him. "You must get the twins to tend to that wound- it can't be bandaged just like that-,"

"Tell me!" His voice, incredibly, rose to a cry, although it seemed to drain him almost immediately.

"Nothing in particular." Cagalli said in a stammer, realizing that his grip had gotten stronger on her arms even if he seemed weaker for it. "I just thought that-,"

"Did you come here because you thought I wanted to see you?" He said cuttingly. His eyes bored into hers, the strange glare of the emerald biting into her. "That I had missed you?"

She stared at him, trying not to feel her eyes prickling and the strange tightness of her throat. In her pain, she began to speak formally out of habit. The honesty she was showing made her feel childish and unsophisticated, and tone became stiff to compensate. "Yes- to be frank, yes. I thought so. Even when you gave the express order that you didn't want me around, I came still. It was no business of mine. I apologize. I've made a fool of myself and I imagined that you -,"

But now, Athrun's head fell forward, his mouth still parted slightly as if he was to collapse soon. He was very much weakened, that she could tell. Yet all the same, there was something impatient in him even when he was half-conscious, and she knew that without her answers to his questions, he would not let her or anyone tend to him.

When he spoke, she thought she heard huskiness in its naturally fine timbre- lust, in fact.

"Then why did you come if you know I didn't want you here?" He asked abrasively, still panting in what he'd surprised of his pain. "Did you mean to come here and to see me like this? Didn't they tell you on my orders to stay away?"

She stared at him, stunned at how tormented he seemed even if his questions were aggressive- even defensive in nature. From the looks of it, his wound was bad but not as bad as those he'd sustained when he'd escaped the Minerva. Why then, was he being so aggressive and unaccepting of her concern? All the same, she half-wished that he would allow her to locate his wound and to serve him somehow in some way.

"Nobody told me you were injured. Nor did I come here to mock you or to aggravate anything." She said heatedly, not realizing that passion was making her voice tremble in her anger and somehow, love. "I made up my mind to come here and see you because I just wanted to see you again. But even if you don't want to see me, even if you don't want me around, I can't leave you here in this state."

Of course, she had wanted to make another contract with him. But that did not change the fact that she had wanted to see him again. And now, his vulnerability made him impossible to ignore.

Athrun reached up with the undamaged hand, his fingers caressing her cheek as she stayed frozen, kneeling before him. And those fingers eventually moved away and she realized that his fingertips were stained with the tears she had unknowingly shed. His eyes gleamed momentarily for a reason Cagalli could not decipher.

Somehow, she found the strength to stand, taking his hand in hers. "I won't rest until your wound is tended to properly. Even if you despise me and think the lowest of me, that's fine. How could you ask your aides to lock the room and leave you alone when all you had was flimsy treatment like this?"

"It's good enough for now." He said bracingly, with what energy he could muster. He leaned back into the couch, breathing heavily. "The salve was applied - it's fine."

"How long ago?"

He turned an eye dully to the clock at one wall of the library. The bookcases stood stolidly around them, bearing witness to his injury and their exchange.

"Two hours."

Cagalli shook her head violently, tugging his hand slightly in an effort to make him get up. "Who are you trying to impress by curling up and pretending that everything's going to heal normally? Two hours ago? What if the wound gets septic from the bandaging? Did you do it yourself?"

"Try doing it with one hand when you're wounded and hiding in a ditch." He said bitterly. Cagalli realised that he was so weary he didn't even know he was giving away information that she could probably probe at more. But at this point, she had no heart to.

"Well, it's going to get worse if you don't settle it." Cagalli said firmly.

"It won't," Athrun said impudently, although the effect was lost by how drained he seemed. "I just want them to leave me alone for a while. It's no good with all of them fussing about a minor wound. Or you. I don't want you around when I'm like this."

"Minor wound?" She repeated incredulously, her hands involuntarily tightening around his. "How could you call it minor when you have a fever from it?"

Athrun was clearly resistant to his aides and her coming near him in his wounded state. While she did not fully understand why, Cagalli remembered how a cat she had found had hissed and scratched at anyone who approached it.

Previously, she had often played with the cat, and she had expected it to be welcoming of her efforts to help it. Yet, it struck out at even those it knew, despite its wound and its need for help. For something as independent and strong-willed as a cat, sustaining a serious wound was a blow to its confidence, to the point whereby it lost trust in itself and even others who could potentially help it.

Perhaps, Athrun had found himself in this situation.

"I just want some rest." He mumbled now. His hand was limp in hers as she held it, still trying to make him get up and leave the couch, which he had seemed to become very fond of "Get lost."

"If you want rest, you shouldn't be here," Cagalli berated him. "You should be treating that wound and resting in your room, not vegetating on a couch and being supervised by books in general solitude."

"I'm fine." He said stubbornly, almost feverishly. "I don't need them to be around." But even if he was clearly refusing his aides' help, she noticed that his fingers had curled around hers. She swallowed, feeling lost at his contrariness and her own reservations. Still, she couldn't leave him to rot.

"I'm getting Epstein." She told him decisively, separating her hand from his and putting it gently by his side as he looked at her tiredly. "He'll see to you and get what you need to have that-," She pointed at his battered shoulder, "-fixed up."

Athrun seemed to regain his strength in his resistance as he tried to stand. "No- I don't want Epstein around- I don't need anyone trying to do anything that-,"

She caught him as he lurched forward, slinging his good arm around her neck and helping him forward as if they were in a war all over again. "Whoever said Epstein was going to be interfering? I'm doing it myself, aren't I?"

He mumbled something, his expression disconcerted and his eyes hidden as his head hung limply, both of them making their way to the door slowly. And Cagalli blinked back her tears.

* * *

Now, he lay in bed as she approached him with warm water in a basin. As Cagalli placed it at the side, she saw that his appearance had both improved and worsened in different ways.

He was awake now, sitting up in bed with his bandages clear in sight now. Cagalli had managed to remove his shirt so she could eventually get at the bandages. Of course, Athrun had protested to the best of his abilities, but she had silenced him by saying, "I'm not doing this for anything. I just want to be here with you."

But now, as Cagalli pushed past the bed and set the basin down, she observed that he was scowling. She had forced him to take the painkillers and aspirin that Epstein had assigned for helping his fever to retreat, and she half-regretted it as it made him more conscious of her presence and more surly about it. It would be difficult to undo his bandages and treat him if he was being so uncooperative.

When they'd ventured out of the library, Epstein had rushed towards them, and with his help, they'd gotten Athrun to his room. The maids had been ready with fresh bandages and medicine, but Athrun had simply glowered at them and barked that he wanted to be left alone.

Of course, Cagalli had ignored him and sent the aides out, taking it upon herself to deal with a very grouchy and wounded Athrun. In that moment of decisiveness, she had made Athrun confer his power as the master of the household to her, and he clearly wasn't too pleased about it. As a result, he was giving her dirty looks each time she busied herself with preparing what she needed to tend to his wound.

When Cagalli asked him to let her see his injury, he closed his eyes and ignored her.

"Athrun," She said intently. "Don't ignore me. It doesn't work when there are only two of us here."

She approached the bed and slipped in, next to him. Sitting up but turning her body adjacent to his, she'd taken the warm, damp cloth and wrung it dry, trying to get at some blood on his chest.

In an instant, he'd snapped and said sharply, "I don't need your help!"

The water was dribbling down her wrist, and she lowered her hand, bewildered.

"Why are you acting like this?" She asked desperately. "You've never been this way- you've never been so insensible and so, so pigheaded, Athrun. Why now?"

She felt herself crumbling because she was so tightly-wound, so worried about him and so confused as to why he was not being himself. Yet, as she observed him, she saw that Athrun was avoiding her eye for once; looking far more afraid and vulnerable than she'd ever seen, save for the time when he had been sure that Kira had died at his hands. He had been unable to look at her then as well, and she suspected that only great inner turmoil would elicit this response from him.

"I'm sorry." Cagalli said in a low voice. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. But please let me tend to you if you won't let your aides. I know it's presumptuous of me to think that I can help you when you are refusing even your-,"

But Athrun interrupted her in a far more extreme manner than she had been prepared for. Without looking at her, he simply and expressionlessly ripped off his own bandages instead of letting her undo those carefully. Her cry of alarm went ignored as he reached for her and held onto her shoulders in a manner that she realized, was possessiveness.

"When I told them to leave me alone, I didn't mean to have you locked out." Athrun said softly. "I meant to have myself I locked in."

The mute suffering in his face did not explain how he had sustained the wound, but it told her everything she needed to know. Without being able to say it, he had longed for her to come to him- he had seen her coming towards him in his delirious state and had tried to push her away because he had been ashamed of his weakness.

And Cagalli knew then, that it was only a matter of time before making contracts with this man would be impossible. Her interaction with him could not to be enforced- it had to be given on the basis of reciprocity. And whether she wanted to, she had long loved him in return.

They half-sat, half-lay, and she leant forward too and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. This was what he had done, she could vaguely remember. Each time she had been injured or frightened, he had sat by her side and waited until she felt safe once more. Now, she would reciprocate.

Slowly, Athrun closed his eyes buried his face near her neck, not resisting when she took the cloth soaked in warm water and ran it gently over his wound. Cagalli fought back her questions on how he had been wounded. Instead, she focused on the wound itself.

The wound was clearly made a bullet in his left shoulder, and she supposed that he must have dodged in time for it to have not hit his heart or shattered his shoulder bone entirely. But even if the wound healed completely, there would certainly be a scar there, right above his armpit. There was already a scar around that area- another bullet mark, and she bit her lips, making no comment although she realised why there was another scar there.

When she re-soaked the stained cloth in the water, the contents of the basin turned pink. The dried blood around the wound had been washed off, but the wound still had to be treated.

"See?" Cagalli said softly, taking herself away slightly to look at him. "That was mostly painless, wasn't it? Shall I call in the twins or Epstein if you like? Washing off the blood doesn't help you heal entirely."

But now, Athrun suddenly caught her in his arms and buried his head near her neck like a child. Her breath caught in her throat and she said helplessly, "What is it?"

He whispered, "Have you, by any chance, forgotten how to tend to wounds?"

Cagalli wondered if he could hear the thumping of her over-active heart and wordlessly, she shook her head.

"Then stay here with me." He said wearily. "I don't want anyone around except you."

Somehow, she managed to still herself and to distance herself sufficiently to reach for the medicine kit. All the same, he clung to her hand when she got up, and while she could not see his expression as he hung his head, she knew he wanted her around. Her return to his side was swift, and she tended to his wound even while he remained affixed to her in that obstinate, needy manner.

Though Athrun must have been used to injury as a soldier, it occurred to Cagalli that he wasn't used to being wounded per se. His face was still hidden as he held to her, and she recalled the last time he had been severely wounded in the shoulder.

While she had not witnessed it and the events leading right after it, he had mentioned once that his father had shot him in the left arm. At that time, the shock that he must have felt at being wounded must have come from the fact that his father had shot him.

All Cagalli could do was to keep to tending his wound, although she knew that another scar on another made the memories even less likely to dissipate.

Athrun, who still would not meet her eyes even when she shifted his head away from her shoulder, had retreated into a shell. Cagalli looked at him and realized that he was confused, especially when his head was addled with the fever's heat. A wound like this was not fatal, and he was used to physical abuse and punishment as a soldier. But it was more than that, and Athrun, in his fever did not understand why he was being so affected by this wound. In his delirium, he had confused this wound with that of his father's cold-bloodedness. Or perhaps he was aware that they were different wounds, but feeling the same shock even with the different wound had made him unsure of himself.

All this made her want to hold him, to teach him that regular injury and harm did not justify why he received it, to tell him that nobody had the right to hurt him.

When she had finished with his wound and re-bandaged it, Cagalli put aside the things and made him lie back. He sank his head back into the pillows, and she got up and left to drain the water and soon returned to mop at the sweat around his brow and on his neck and chest.

In that silence, in the still atmosphere of his room she thought she would never get used to being in, he clung to her hand and he said dully, "Don't go."

She remained there, not saying anything, biting her lip as he gazed at her, his expression confused and but his voice without hesitation.

"Athrun," Cagalli tried to say, "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll give you anything if you don't go." He broke in, before she could say a word. His voice was stubborn although it died along with the rest of his words. "Anything you want- even if I die for it-I want you to stay-,"

The effect of the drug kicked in, and he was soon asleep with her lying by his side. As she gently tucked them both in, she knew that his sleep was fitful, for beads of sweat had already begun to form once more.

As the room became silent once more with only the steady, almost undetectable sounds of his ragged breathing, Cagalli saw what she'd made of him. She would have to continue even now, after so many years.

Yet, his words might have been hers.

If he had openly refused to let her near him, she would have gladly given anything to stay near him and protect what she could of him that she hadn't already destroyed.

* * *

When she woke, Cagalli found herself alone once more. As her eyes focused on the ceiling, she turned towards Athrun and found him missing and was immediately alarmed.

Muttering a curse, she swung her legs out of Athrun's bed and stumbled, nearly tripping over the basin she'd placed at the side. She screeched and in the process of trying to break her fall, landed up tumbling back onto the bed.

"Well now." His voice said smoothly, in so amused a tone that she wanted to curl up and die. "I never knew the extent of your klutziness went into this range."

A miraculously-composed Athrun appeared from apparently nowhere. His effortless stroll and mild manner certainly disguised the state he had been in only a few hours ago, except that the bandages were still on him. He walked calmly, almost regally, towards her, staring down at the undignified spectacle she'd managed to make of herself. Judging by the presence of a small smirk on his face, Athrun appeared to have recovered entirely and completely.

"Look at you," He said briefly, hands in his pockets. He might have been whistling there and then. "All ruffled and tangled up."

"Shut up!" Cagalli snarled, trying to sit up but failing miserably and even more embarrassingly. She had gotten her legs tangled up with the sheets that she had thrown off when she was trying to get out of bed, and like a bug on its back, she was flopping a little.

He sat down calmly on the bed and untangled her legs. She muttered her thanks in the most unwilling manner one could have imagined, and sulkily, Cagalli looked at him. He was observing her, smiling a little, and she felt a wave of relief sweep into her.

"So it wasn't that bad a wound then," Cagalli mused, mostly to herself and not him.

"Thank you." He said directly, a split-second after she'd muttered. "And I apologise for being an utter shit while you were trying to help."

Feeling incredibly helpless, she shook her head. "No, don't say that- that was natural when you were having that fever-,"

She caught his eye and shyly, she lowered her head, knowing fully well that she was blushing her cheeks right off her face. But Athrun was not one for hesitation in general- he tilted her chin and swiftly brushed his lips over hers. She had been unprepared for this, but it mattered little as Cagalli found herself wrapping her arms around his neck, still careful to avoid the wound, responding to him.

"Ah," Athrun said softly, when he broke the kiss. "So I wasn't too much of a jerk then."

And Cagalli glared, dropping their intimate moment from her head almost completely and instantly. "It's to your detriment that you reminded me. No, you were a complete jerk when you had that fresh wound. You set a new standard for assholic when you snarled at your poor aides."

He laughed embarrassedly. "Yes, I know. But-," He pulled her nearer to him, tilting her chin so she had to look at him again. "I meant the morning when I left you alone."

"Oh." Cagalli said unsurely. "That. I don't know."

He was still looking intently at her, and she found she had to elaborate.

"Actually" She began unsurely. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to feel insulted or hurt that you vanished quite completely the morning after. Not that it was a morning after-," She began to stutter in her frantic state, "I mean- well, you know what I mean. But still-,"

"I know what you mean." Athrun acknowledged quietly. "And you have every right to feel anger towards me. I apologize for hurting you if I have."

"Well you did!' She said fiercely. "Whether I wanted to feel miserable that I'd woken up alone or not, the fact of the matter was that I did! Of course-," She faltered, "I still don't think I have a right to. "

Athrun was silent and she added hastily, "This is a contract after all, isn't it? There aren't supposed to be feelings in it."

She thought she saw a clouded grief enter his eyes, but in the next instant, it was gone.

"Of course." He said coolly, standing up and immediately increasing the distance between them. "Although I will admit that you pleased me."

"Then I shall admit that as well." Cagalli said recklessly. "Only because this is proof that we must function as offeror and offeree and no more than that."

His back was turned towards her and she could not see what he was thinking. "Of course."

There was a silence that fell upon them for a painful moment before Athrun turned back to her and spoke again. "And what about the offer I made when you were tending to me?"

Cagalli looked up blankly. "What?"

"I offered you anything if you stayed by my side." He said in a measured voice. His eyes regarded her emotionlessly. "And if I recalled correctly, you performed according to the condition set. I must now give you anything you want. So what will it be? More information? About the Isle? About the events outside the Isle if what Epstein informed you of was insufficient? What will you have?"

She stood up, her face pale, her pride wounded. "I didn't stay by your side because you offered something to me in your delirium! I stayed because I wanted to! You know the laws of contract even better than I do- you know that an offer you made while in your state isn't a real offer! Nor did you have to offer anything to me; I didn't do anything you wanted to get something in return!"

Athrun stood very still, watching as she lashed out. When she had finished, he said simply, "I know. But the only way we can function, as you said, is if we act as offeror and offeree. You reminded me of my place and yours on the Isle- nothing comes for free. Take what you want now."

Cagalli raised herself to her full height even though she knew she could scarcely reach his. Her lip was trembling. "Then I want you to promise that you'll never to push me away when you do want me by your side. Your honesty is what I'll take for staying by your side last night."

He looked at her and saw no malice or deceit in her, only frustration and sorrow.

"Done." He said flatly. "I will assure you of my honesty at this very point of time. I want you at my side now, and because of what I have just promised you, I will not lie and push you away. So will you stay here with me?"

Her voice was tense. "Yes. Let me change your bandages- those have lasted throughout the night but may not for the rest of the day. If you could take a bath, that would make re-applying the salve easier."

They both stared at the pinkish strips now. No doubt, the salve had to be constantly applied within a few hours to ensure speedy recovery,

"Alright," Athrun said slowly.

Steadily, he moved to the closet, opening it to take out a bath towel. As he did this, she couldn't' help but peer from over his shoulder, wondering what else he kept in there. But from what she could see, it looked like a traveler's wardrobe- sparsely used and barely filled with mostly the same kind of work clothes. Perhaps he had another fitting room somewhere, she assumed, but found doubt nagging at her.

In her mind, all Cagalli could remember was that he'd mentioned how his house had a certain Wing for business, and another for pleasure- whatever that meant. She prayed she was not in the section of the house she was afraid to think about.

And then it occurred to her that Athrun was already moving towards the bathroom, and hurriedly, she grabbed another bathrobe from his wardrobe and pattered after him.

He paused and turned around, an uncharacteristic puzzled look on his face. "What is it now?"

"I'm not going to wait as you take forever to bathe," Cagalli told him, although she felt her cheeks heat up a little. "It'll be faster if I help you."

The look on his face was priceless as Athrun choked. "Come again?"

"I'm going in with you!" She exclaimed, looking obtusely at him. "Now stuff it and move along!"

She pushed him in lightly, turning around to lock the bathroom door, lest the aides wander in and tried the bathroom to see where they both had gone. Of course, she noted, it would have been obvious as to where the master and his captive had gone. Hopefully, Athrun had locked the door to this main room.

When Cagalli turned back to face Athrun, she nearly lost her nerve and ran straight out of the bathroom. Athrun had thankfully owned the sense to get undressed while her back was turned, and he had slipped into the bath he must have drawn when he had woken up. The bath was really a luxurious, square-cut depression in the ground with steps leading down to it, and the water was foamy enough to conceal most of him. But still, Cagalli nearly ran out of the bathroom.

He was staring at her with clear bemusement on his face, and Cagalli was sure that he was theorizing about how his fever might have been passed to her or that in the course of the night, she had lost some of her sanity.

Whatever the case, Cagalli gritted her jaw and said tightly, "Well, turn around and face the wall!"

"And here I was," Athrun said in a measured voice, "Thinking that taking a bath together would be so much _fun_." The emphasis he liberally gave to the word made her sputter in rage, but hurriedly, she took off her clothes and panties and began to struggle with the clasp of her brassiere. When her curses began to grow quite loud, he laughed, making it obvious that she was struggling with a garment she should have been quite comfortable wearing and taking off since about ten years ago.

Without turning around, Athrun said, "Why don't you get in so I can help you?"

"What?" She sputtered. If Athrun had long gotten over his shock of her barging in during his bath, his shock seemed to have been converted to awkwardness on her part. "How are you supposed to help me with this- argh- son of a-,"

"Hurry up and get in," He said with a touch of impatience. "I wouldn't be surprised if the bandages dissolved before we finished bathing."

"As if that'd happen," She muttered irritably, but got in all the same. As she waded into the depression, she felt the water lap around her, and nervously, she laughed, enjoying the warm water nonetheless. Her toes barely reached the bottom of the depression, but she treaded around a little, only a portion of her shoulders above the water.

Before she'd even gotten used to the space of the bathtub, Athrun turned around, his chin only inches above the water and most of him obscured. She nearly jumped out of the water, but he looked at her emotionlessly and ordered, "Turn around."

As she did, his fingers settled lightly on her shoulders, and she screamed, making him shout.

"What in the blazes is wrong with you now?" He said, clearly irritated at her jumpiness.

"Nothing, nothing," Cagalli sputtered hastily.

Without any extra fanfare, he promptly reached beneath the water's surface, found the clasp and undid it without any real effort even though he probably couldn't see where it was or how it fit together. Then he turned back to face the wall, signaling that he had finished.

She thought she would have died of embarrassment, except that he was being matter-of-factly.

Now, Cagalli turned around slightly, glad his back was facing her. She was still using her arms to block her chest even though most of her was underwater and he couldn't see anyway. "W-Wait-maybe I should clarify what I meant when I said-,"

"Relax." He said drolly. "If I had wanted to have sex, I would have done it earlier and in a more convenient place. Contrary to popular belief, having sex in a bathtub is not as good as it looks."

She sputtered. "What? You mean you've-,"

"You mean you've never?" He countered unabashedly.

Cagalli bit back her answer and glared poisonously at his back.

"Besides," He continued casually. "I wouldn't have bothered giving you all that information if I were only keen on getting a good old shag, would I?"

And his forwardness made her feel slightly better but somehow worse at the same time. Here was the candor she could never face him with. He turned his back towards her and said irreverently, "Maybe we should start about this century."

While she carefully lathered his hair and back, she couldn't help staring at him. Although it was merely his back, there was a great deal of beauty still. His shoulders were broad in a manner that suggested strength but litheness, and his back was smooth as she ran her palms over it, locating the knot of the bandage and undoing it completely. But Cagalli was quite aware that she was clandestinely enjoying the feeling of his skin.

And despite knowing that he could manage it himself, she turned him carefully by his shoulders and began lathering his chest, avoiding his eyes with equal care.

She had left the bandage on a side-shelf and now took the hose, running it slowly and gently over the wound. When she had finished, she passed the hose wordlessly, expecting him to replace it in its holder. And she returned to staring at the wall, turning herself completely, knowing fully well that she had no more reason to be looking at him.

Instead, he said quietly, "Turn around."

Cagalli sputtered something because she was stunned, but before she knew it, he had turned, pushing her so her back was facing him now. "You can't use your arms," She argued. "You're wounded, damn it, that's the point of why I'm here to help you-,"

"Rubbish," Athrun said clearly. He replaced the hose promptly, and she heard him open a bottle and squirt the same shampoo onto his palm. "The only part I can't get at is my back, but you did more than that. I think I'm entitled to some of that too. Now, if you're really concerned about me straining my left arm, help me by coming a bit closer so I can get at your hair."

Quite terrified, she obeyed, treading backwards, and his fingers rubbed themselves into her hair. She remained still, not sure of how to react. He was gentle, massaging the liquid into her scalp and running his fingers through her hair until the studs were gone. And then wordlessly, he turned her by her shoulders, just as he had, and began to wash her back as she had. She closed her eyes, flinching, and when he stopped, she opened them.

His voice was soft. "You can do the front yourself."

He began to wade towards the steps leading out of the bath and she watched him in a daze.

"Wait," Cagalli said awkwardly. "I promised you with that contract-,"

His face was inscrutable. "True. But the condition was that it was only during the night. I'm not about to give up what I'm expecting this evening- so I'll leave you to it."

He began to climb out of the bath, and she averted her eyes shyly, although she couldn't help peeking as he swirled the bathrobe around himself and without glancing back, left her there. Guiltily, she admired the lean sculpting of his lower body- how firm his thighs and calves were even in their leanness.

When the door shut again, she was left to her own thoughts, and nervously, she began to wash, knowing exactly what she was planning. No matter how much closer she found herself to be, no matter how connected to him she had become while tending to his wound, the plans she had made could not change.

Another contract with him would enable a message to be sent to Orb.

* * *

3 months. 5 days.


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

**A/N**: Dear readers-cum-reviewers, thank you for coming this far with me. (Don't worry, I am not about to declare the discontinuation of this!) I just wanted you all to know that everyone is so awesome. I absolutely appreciate those writing in and telling me how they liked certain things while giving me ways to improve each chapter.

I also want to apologise for the long time it's taken- some major papers to write for class and some reworking of the story took a far longer time than I expected. Of course, I was also waiting for a certain number of reviews, so thanks to those who actually wrote in-I love you guys especially. Whatever the case (or excuse), I love you all and beg you to continue reading and reviewing.

**TO APOLOGISE PROPERLY, I'VE INCLUDED A SPECIAL SECTION OF QUESTIONS/RESPONSES AND ANSWERS BASED ON THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. THESE SHOULD BE READ BEFORE THIS CHAPTER, UNLESS YOU PLAN NOT TO READ THESE AT ALL (SPOILER ALERT FOR SOME)**

**Some of them were really entertaining, and some answers should give you some important clues! :) Special thanks to Shiloah18 and Juveniliare for the interesting questions and responses- many of which mirrored other FAQs!**

* * *

For those who've asked questions about plot and character and things like that, I'm sorry I can't answer all those questions, nyeheheh. (Unless you want to be spoiled, of course.) So ask away, and my answers or silence may possibly help you piece together what will eventually unfold. Or you could wait, of course. The questions that get silence for answers are often more telling than those with answers I can give, mostly because the answers are already obvious in the existing chapters.

* * *

**Some interesting questions regarding the previous chapters that some reviewers have asked (my answers are in bold):**

1. 'Is the Plants behind all of this?'(Shiloah18, Brightlywoundbylight)

_Silence._

2. 'Are the locked doors in the said manor the ones with fugitives?' (Shiloah 18)

_No. Athrun just likes the air to be stuffy. The maids are also too lazy to unlock doors._

3. 'Is Greyfriars an Eye?' (Shiloah18)

_Don't worry about Greyfriars. He's just a nice old man._

4. 'What is Kitani Harumi doing in the Fifth Eye's manor?' (Shiloah18)

_Do you want to hear Athrun's answer (see previous chapter) or my answer? My answer is Athrun's answer (See next chapter- i.e. wait for it)._

5. 'How come Athrun and Cagalli are married?' (Orangeaide/Brightwoundbylight/abitofhappinesstoeat)

/how the heck did Athrun marry Cagalli when Lent said that Athrun married Lyra? was that the exchange he had done to remain on the Isle?  
(Shiloah18)

_Because she forgot to cancel the engagement properly. No, seriously. It happens all the time. A and B marry in country X, but B and C are married in country Y, and the marriage in country X is approved of because country Y's marriage authorities are not country X's marriage authorities._

6. 'I thought Epstein never knew his parents? that or maybe my memory fails me.. -.-v' (Shiloah 18)

_I meant that metaphorically._

7. 'Superior 7, is that Yzak? he sounds like Yzak (calling Athrun by his surname, profanities granted and when he said, "I never thought I'd see the day when you were a subordinate, calling me sir.") if not Yzak, is it Shinn? though I really think it's the former... (alittlebitofhappiness/MessersDarcy/ORANGESQUASH/Shiloah18/)

_It's meant to be obvious._

8. 'what was Laplacia's reaction when Cagalli stumbled out of the library supporting a feverish Athrun? I want to know since she was the one who said that their master didn't want to see her.. hmm.. (Shiloah18)

_I don't know. I never planned to show her reaction because the focus was on Asucaga. But I guess Laplacia was okay with it. _

9. 'how about Epstein and Cartesia's reactions when Athrun glowered at them and told them to leave him alone though Cagalli was already there and he didn't seem to mind her supporting him..' (Shiloah18)

_See above._

10. 'When was it mentioned that their contract would only be effective during the night?' (Shiloah18)

_It was implied in the second-last chapter. Anyway, I don't think it's romantic if Athrun tries to cop a feel in the daytime. Or does anybody disagree? Send me a PM and I can try and work it out. *winks*  
_

11. 'Cagalli's schooling reminded me of "Madeline" lol' (Shiloah18)

_1st response: Thank you! (Er wait, is Madeline similar to Malory Towers?) _

_2nd response if Madeline is NOT Enid Blytonish: Wait 'til you see the next chapter. I doubt Enid Blyton would approve of the shennigans the girls got up to- it involved more than midnight snacks, that's for sure._

12. 'I wonder how would Athrun react if Cagalli painted Kira or Lacus, hmm..' (Shiloah 18)

_He would freak out. Cagalli's not exactly Picasso. To see what she likes to paint, read the chapter below._

13. 'I bet Athrun was happy to see those tears. Though they're not of joy, it meant that she cares for him! I think.. ^.^v'(Shiloah 18)

_That's right._

14. 'what Cagalli did to get Athrun up, was that by chance or was it planned?'(Shiloah 18)

_She planned to make him get up, and he obeyed by chance. Does that answer your question? Or maybe I don't really understand the question heheh. X_X_

15. 'Athrun's being a kid! but I guess that comes when it's Cagalli who is tending to him.. XD'(Shiloah 18)

_That's right. He's cute that way. Suggestions?_

16. 'The words Athrun said to Cagalli, I wonder if he had said the same thing to Lyra when he was thinking of Cagalli..'(Shiloah 18)

_Well, he often fools himself into thinking that Lyra is Cagalli, so in that sense, he would have said the same thing to Lyra._

_But you're supposed to infer that, I guess._

17. "If Athrun had long gotten over his shock of her barging in during his bath," during? he wasn't even stripping yet when she followed him..(Shiloah 18)

_Depends what you consider the start of a bath I guess. For me, it's when I enter the bathroom with the intention of bathing. For you, it's apparently when you start undressing. Suggestions?_

18. 'Did Athrun have uh.. s*x in the bathtub with Lyra? or was it with someone else? wait! don't answer that.. =_= (Shiloah18)

_Lyra. And others. Many others. Many many others. I don't know. I never really thought about that. But now I will. Suggestions?_

19. 'And last one, Mohammed as in the prophet Mohammed?' (Juveniliare)

_Yes. It's a saying._

**So if you have questions/ responses to the questions and answers, PM me and I'll try to reply yup! Now on with it!**

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Chapter 15

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The cameras flashed in the hall, scattering light and the diamond dust of the newspaper tales to come. Photographs taken out of context would be gossip's glitter to the half-informed, and the media was restricted only by cordons and a nearly fifty body-guards.

Yet, the statements issued today would only set fire to the pre-laid gasoline of conspiracy theories. That gasoline's essence was Cagalli's disappearance and all she'd left behind, which was felt by Orb and even the international community.

Behind the cordon sat the Orb Proxy, Kira Yamato, the Permanent Secretary, Aaron Biliensky, and the Orb Princess' fiancée, James Marlin.

James Marlin, thirty-three with his roguish good looks, was exceptionally good-looking if one subscribed to the notion that brilliant men were often as aesthetically pleasing as semi-evolved apes. In other words, it had been pure inevitability that he charmed Orb as soon as he gave his first statement here. His success with Orb was swift, just as he had risen as a solicitor and then moved head-on into politics back home in Britannia.

Unlike his success with Britannia's attorney-general's chambers however, Marlin wanted, more than anything, to win the favour of Orb. For a man who had often watched the best fall into his lap, whether in jobs, money, power, looks, reputation and particularly women, his actual effort simply meant that he was guaranteed the Orb Council of Elders and basically, all of Orb's support. In fact, the Elders had been pretty welcome to the idea of him saying that he had been conducting a relationship with the Orb Head for two years now, just as Aaron had advised.

Now, he practised his camera-smile, not enjoying but not despising how easy it was for him to pander to the audience. The females in the room predictably swooned and the men muttered amongst themselves. The difference, Marlin reflected, was that if it had been any other situation, he would have merely looked back at them in private amusement. Here though, he _wanted_ them to like him. If they did, they were more likely to believe him to be Cagalli Yula Atha's fiance.

"When you proposed to our noble Orb Princess," Orb reporter called out from the mass he was sitting amidst, "Did you consider that it would help her preserve her power?"

"Of course I considered that," Marlin conceded. "And at the same time, how does one think of such grim legal and social obligations the nobles and particularly the Orb Head owes to Orb when the Orb Princess is smiling and asking if the coffee is too sweet or if one would like biscuits to go with it."

The reporters were frantically scribbling everything he was saying. Marlin knew that they would be likely to romanticise this, for it had been what he was intending.

"Sir, can we take it that you were very close to her?" Another reporter hollered.

"You're inferring this from just the fact that she served me coffee and offered me biscuits?" Marlin said, with an eyebrow raised high. "Or is it a custom that one is in love with the waitress simply because she serves a drink?"

He hid the edge of his words with a smile, and the reporter coughed embarrassedly. The truth was that Marlin did not want to go into the details of a fabricated relationship, for that would only create trouble for both of them, especially when she returned.

"So sir, can we take it that you got along very well with the Orb Princess besides the fact that you had a working relationship with her, Haumea bless her?"

"Yes." He said simply, going straight for the pointed question. "Why else would I even think of asking Cagalli Yula Atha to marry me?"

The buzzing grew louder and Marlin rolled his eyes inwardly. Even media dogs would have their day.

"I speak for the foreign reporters in this room," One called from the middle section. Probably from America, Marlin supposed, with that hard-nosed accent of his. "We know that Orb is ready to storm Scandinavia if the Orb Princess does not return- Haumea bless her soul," The reporter added hastily, hearing the sounds of disapproval from the room at his initial omission. Those mutters of irritation at his rudeness welled the loudest from the Orb-correspondents' section. "And if Scandinavia gives no plausible explanation for her disappearance, of course. But what then, after that?"

Next to Marlin, Kira Yamato sat quietly, taciturn and unwilling to say anything that could be potentially used against him. He had learnt the hard way, Marlin supposed, since Kira Yamato had never been in politics and didn't know how to guard himself in that arena. Even as a reasonably intelligent if not brilliant general of a key division of Zaft, Kira had still been under a great deal of pressure from the questions thrown at him. The parliament had basically lobbed all the conspiracy theories in his face, asking him whether he was connected to their princess' disappearance.

In the last hour, they had rather rudely, accused Kira of arranging Cagalli's disappearance by getting together with Scandinavia. Kira had fielded that by replying that he had no need for power that he had no right to claim, but had cited his willingness to protect Orb for his sister's behalf.

Next, the parliament had debated on whether Cagalli Yula Atha ought to be written off as dead since there was no news of her or proof that she would return and not abdicate with the approaching year of marriage. In return, Kira had cited relevant legislation that Marlin had collected for him, and Marlin had played his role well, convincing the Parliament that he had long established a relationship with Cagalli. Kira had then proceeded to remind the Orb Parliament that the citizens would probably react adversely to the Parliament writing her out as if she were dead. Until the fixed time had passed, Orb could not react to Scandinavia's passive position.

Now, after the parliament had grilled Kira, these reporters were doing it too. Marlin fought back a sigh.

"If she is still not found, Haumea protect her," A French correspondent piped in with the suffix-like reference to Haumea that seemed to be plaguing Cagalli's name these days, "And she is presumed dead, then what next?"

"Then Orb will hold a referendum." Kira said steadily, leaning forward slightly as the microphone picked up his voice. It was amplified it across the conference hall in the sprawling grounds of the Orb parliament building- the extent of Cagalli's office, really. "In the case that Orb must declare Cagalli Yula Atha as dead or presumably dead, Orb will then decide for itself whether to accept the key Lyadov emir as the official Orb Head immediately, or more drastically, re-haul the existing electoral system and open it to sub-royal families or non-royal candidates such that another election can be arranged for."

The cameras shifted in waves towards him, and Kira fought back that strange tightening of his fists as he sat a little higher, staring at the mass of people before him.

The key Lyadov emir had been rather aggressive towards Kira Yamato, probably because the Lyadov emir had been expecting to attain the Orb Head's power. Marlin understood how upsetting it must have been to have a proxy from Plant and a key member of Zaft no less, suddenly drop in and smash that hope of the Lyadov House holding power for the first time in a few decades.

In the last hour, the Lyadov emir and the rest of the parliament had rather rudely accused Kira of arranging Cagalli's disappearance. Really, Marlin thought scathingly, relying on conspiracy theories to unnerve Kira Yamato had been both childish and low, particularly because Kira was making so many sacrifices by already being in Orb.

Thankfully, Kira had fielded the attacks that had been bordering on personal. He had replied that he had no need for power that he had no right to claim, since Orb would never accept him as more than a proxy. As a proxy however, he was independent from the current internal politics and thereby able to judge what was best for Orb in the current situation.

Next, the Parliament had debated on whether Cagalli Yula Atha ought to be written off as dead since there was no news of her or proof that she would return and not abdicate with the approaching year of marriage.

In return, Kira had cited relevant legislation that Marlin had collected for him. Moreover, Marlin had played his role well, convincing the Parliament that he had long established a relationship with Cagalli and that such a dutiful, responsible Head was well worth waiting for when there was no proof of her death yet. Kira had then proceeded to remind the Orb Parliament that the citizens would probably react adversely to the parliament writing her out as if she were dead, especially since her fiancé was still in Orb. The parliament had then been forced to admit that until the fixed time had passed, Orb could not react to Scandinavia's passive position.

Moreover, Kira's sincerity had been genuine, and the parliament had rather grudgingly admitted that when faced with the collectedness of Kira Yamato.

Given that Kira was not as well-versed as Cagalli in this field, Marlin was rather impressed by the quiet dignity that the man had shown. Cagalli's twin had that strange, boyish quality, and there was that sweetness to his features that made him look shy and even withdrawn, despite the age in his face and maturity of his frame. That inherent childlikeness now reminded Marlin of Cagalli. Just like his sister but for very different reasons, people tended to underestimate Kira.

Objectively, Marlin knew that Cagalli was often underestimated because she was female and very attractive despite how formidable and driven she really was. Men often did not know how to treat her in private- she might have been either a child or a woman. But Cagalli had gotten past that quite easily, since she was never anything except the Orb Head with most men.

Similarly, Kira was also often underestimated because he appeared as a boy-man, innocuous and almost forgettable in a crowd of rather boisterous, ambitious Zaft Generals. He had reportedly refused to be in charge of training Zaft's pilots, although no official reason was given. Most suspected that he did not want to be in the spotlight and under scrutiny the way football coaches often found themselves under. As the General in charge of defence and weapon technology, Kira seemed too young and too mild.

And yet, Marlin had heard from Aaron that Kira shared Cagalli's infamous temper, only that it was mostly unheard of, and even less predictable and even more lethal when Kira snapped. Apparently, Aaron knew quite a bit about Kira, although he was unwilling to tell Marlin anything about Cagalli's twin.

Still, from what Marlin observed of Kira, it suggested that while Cagalli had been forced to control and hone her temper in her profession, Kira seemed to have a natural control over himself. Marlin could differentiate the façade of calm that both twins carried almost immediately.

"The Orb Princess may have already followed most of the obligations concerning the royal duties she is expected to fulfil." Kira continued, basically summarising all he had said to the parliament. "But she has not gone through an official marriage or borne a child. In her absence, and if the situation calls for Orb to presume her dead, there is no representative of the Atha house to finish her term until the next election. If the key Lydaov emir had been in her situation, there would have been other emirs from that house or even representatives from the sub-noble families adjoined to that house. But the key Lyadov emir is not the Orb Head. The Orb Head is still Cagalli Yula Atha until she is presumed dead."

"Didn't the Orb Parliament consider the Britannian Premier as the next successor if the Orb Princess was presumed dead?" One reporter spoke up.

"I will answer that question on behalf of the Orb Parliament as a representative. It would not be fair to impose that responsibility on Premier Marlin, who is still ultimately serving Britannia and is not an Orb citizen." Aaron declared. "In any case, the Orb Princess' marrying and having a child would not necessarily mean that the Atha House would hold power indefinitely until its last descendent abdicates or is found unsuitable to lead Orb. The Lyadov House has always existed as a candidate during elections, and they have as much a right to enter the elections as the Atha, Sahaku and Seiran House. Even if the Atha House is considered extinct, as the other two are, the Lyadov House can still be elected and their key emir may be the Orb Head."

"But as I understand it," A starved, raw-skinned looking reporter stood up to ask, "The four great Orb Noble houses have dwindled over the years to the point of- as you have rightly described- extinction. The Sahakus will be considered extinct once Lady Sahaku, Haumea bless her and let her live for a thousand years, passes away. The main Seiran House also collapsed after the war's end, leaving the Lyadovs House to run in elections. If other nobles from sub-branches of these houses cannot run for these elections, wouldn't that meant that the Lyadov House has no competition if the Orb Princess, Haumea bless her and let her live for ten thousand years, is declared dead? "

"Exactly." The murmurs in the room grew louder. Some were shaking their heads and some were still scribbling.

"As you say, the Orb Head is elected from these four houses," Aaron Biliensky confirmed, looking at the reporters fearlessly. It was quite a change, Marlin marvelled. The slightly high-strung, fastidious man had transformed into this professional cool cat. "And the Orb Princess was the only and therefore key emir of the Atha house after the First and Second War. Nonetheless, after the Second War, she similarly ran against the key Lyadov emir and thus obtained the authority to head the Parliament after the Second War."

"If I remember correctly," A turquoise-haired, very well-polished female reporter from Plant said excitedly, "The princess won by a landslide number of votes. Political analysts say this had to do with the strength of character she showed by returning to Orb and seizing power from the perhaps misguided Head at that time- the key emir of the Seiran House, who was still her fiancé at that time. While she actually seized power by force, the fact that she already had support to make this possible, made Orb support her in the Second War's aftermath and the subsequent election."

Marlin was aware of all of this, but hearing it being recounted all over again made him wonder how Cagalli had managed to retain that air of likeability, that air of unassuming innocence about her.

"Since then," Another reporter from Switzerland spoke up, "She's won every bi-annual election, and is expected to continue doing so until she chooses not to serve Orb, which is also unlikely. The Lyadov House has had different candidates from the main branch of the noble family, but none have ever come close to beating her."

Yet another reporter from Indonesia stood up, speaking in a rapid-fire manner too.

"The rest of the nobles and the lesser noble families that branched off from the main four have been left scrambling for Parliament positions with none of them hoping to get that key seat the Orb Princess has. In other words, she is the most able candidate. Without her, doesn't that mean that a proper succession of leadership is unlikely even if the elections are brought forward?"

"That brings me to the dilemma the Orb Parliament faces. The succession of power is inevitable because someone must lead Orb. But putting someone else in that seat is only justified if the Orb Princess does not return by then." Aaron said sharply, gesturing for them to remain seated. The guards were looking anxious at the surge of enthusiasm from the media.

"As a parliament representative, I admit there would be technically has no competition for the Lyadov House. The Atha House would be extinct with the Orb Princess' presumed or actual death, Haumea protect her," Aaron added hastily, "But an option Orb can consider is introducing new competition into the election. This will be in the form of the sub-noble families that branched off from the main four, but that depends on the referendum that Proxy Yamato has spoken of. Orb may well pass power into the Lyadov representative, that is, their key Emir's hands. Of course, this is all dependent on what Orb thinks in the referendum."

The reporters began to speak loudly amongst themselves again, and Marlin felt as if he was a teacher watching rowdy children fight amongst themselves. Then one reporter stood up, raising his hand as he did, as if asking for permission to speak.

"This question is posed to the Britannian Premier or Prime Minister, fiancé of the Orb Princess, Haumea protect Her Grace and keep her eternally safe for ten thousand years." One reporter spoke up.

He was probably from Orb, Marlin supposed, hence the clear and slightly even obsessive respect towards Cagalli's name. As the hours had gone by, it seemed that the suffixes to Cagalli's title was the subject of a competition amongst the reporters. It was a 'who-can-use-Haumea-while-adressing-the-Orb-Princess-in-the-longest-most-awkward-adressment-ever' contest. And this reporter was definitely giving the others a run for their money.

"Why did you propose to the Orb Princess, Haumea protect her Grace and sustain her for a thousand years to come?" The Orb reporter said boldly.

The question posed to Marlin had not been unexpected, but actually hearing it from a reporter's lips made him want to snarl. In fact, he was waiting for a moment to bite, and thus he sat up slightly in the chair, looking less at ease than before.

Not noticing the change in Marlin, Prime Minister of Britannia's posture, the cameras flashed along with his smile. The media dogs were blind to his mistrust as he was to the cameras. And that was why he thought of this rehearsal, this smile, as his camera smile.

"Well, what do you think?" He shot back, almost casually.

Going through the grim discussion for three hours before this and having to deflect all the Orb Parliament's questions was one thing. Being asked about his feelings for the Orb Princess by people who had no business knowing whatsoever, was another.

"The Orb Princess, Haumea smile upon Her Grace and give her Haumea's fortune, holds a lot of power." One reporter said reverently.

Staring at him, Marlin realised that the camera crew behind that reporter was certainly not from Orb. Many of them weren't, in fact. So why this obsession with her title and the blessings they liberally sprinkled on her name? This bunch wasn't exactly from Orb and had none of the nationalistic sentiments the average Orb citizen would have. Or perhaps, had Cagalli impressed the whole world beyond Orb and made them respect her more than Marlin had known.

"You insult me," Marlin said a bit grimly. "The compatibility of our jobs and loyalties to our nations matter, but power was certainly not the point when I asked her to marry me."

"So what you're saying," A reporter was shouting where he was being pushed back, cordoned by police officers guarding the arena where Kira Yamato, James Marlin and Aaron Biliensky sat, "Is that the Orb Council of Elders approved of her plans to give you her hand?"

Really now, Marlin thought, what was there to ask when the Elders' pants had been charmed off by his recounts of the Orb Princess being cold to other men to signal that she had already held someone in mind? Hiding the lie within truth was a very important technique of politics, and Marlin was very good at politics.

"Yes," Aaron said swiftly for Marlin, answering in his efficient but unhurried manner. "That is the general law and code of conduct for any Orb noble's marriage, whether the Orb noble is from the four great Houses or a sub-royal family. For the Orb Princess, who is not just directly from the Atha House but its key emir and Orb Head, her husband had to be approved of by the Elders. If she had been unable to choose a man that the Elders approved of, she would have still been obliged to marry. The one she married would then be a man the Elders chose for her and deemed most suitable with her parents' or guardians' advice. If she had still chosen not to marry, she would have had to abdicate."

The law regarding Orb nobles from the four main noble houses stated that the Orb nobles needed to be wed to a suitable partner approved of by the Council of Elders by the twenty-seventh birthday. The Orb Head was no exception, except that the Orb Head would have had to abdicate in favour of the next most appropriate royal house if the Orb Head chose not to marry. Above and on top of that, the Orb head would also be obliged to bear a child, one who was 'reasonably suitable and likely' to succeed the throne. That very description was broad enough to cover about any heir, and sufficiently narrow for the Council of Elders and Parliament to reject an heir of a House as a possible candidate for reasons they would not have to disclose.

Marlin snorted privately. In fact, this clause of having a child through that mandatory marriage was actually more important than the actual marrying.

The rationale was a simple extension of the Orb political system, which had always been deemed a leading, progressive system- what seemed to be a perfectly-integrated system of partial democracy and a monarchy. If one person from one noble House had held all the power of Orb, the temptation of corruption would be stronger than anything else. It was common understanding that power corrupted and absolute power corrupted absolutely. The likelihood of the key leader becoming a dictator would then be quite high if there was no presence of anybody who could take over.

The point of having such an Act concerning the Orb nobles and in particular, the Orb Head, was to ensure that there were descendants. The Orb Head, that is, a potential dictator, needed to marry a suitable person. This person was probably equipped to lead Orb as well because that person would have to be of a calibre to gain the approval of the Elders. The power had to be shared at some point- the Orb Head would be unlikely to keep the power solely in his or her hands. And once a child came into the picture, the power couldn't be theirs forever. The position of the key Emir of that particular House would one day see another from the House taking it. Whether that new key Emir became the Orb Head depended on that Emir's performance in the elections.

"I would like some confirmation about the Council that approved of the Britannian Premier as the Orb Princess' fiancé and future husband. According to the Council of Elders Act," Another reporter chimed in, "Nobody who has less than ten years of experience with politics and law, or is not a direct noble from the four Houses can be elected by the non-constitutional members of Parliament into the Council of Elders. Nor can the Orb Head elect anyone into the Council of Elders for obvious reasons."

"That is correct." Aaron confirmed. "Also, the direct nobles elected into the Council of Elders must first give up their power and standing they yielded within their Houses. This ensures that they become independent of the Houses' inherent interests in the elections and the competing for the Orb Head's seat. At present, of the official number of twelve Elders, the representative and head is Lord Dieretriem, a former key Lyadov emir. Lady Sahaku, a former Orb Head, is also part of this council, as are many highly qualified judges who are experts in various legal areas and former chief justices of the Supreme Court of Orb. Because the Orb judicial system is removed from politics, they do not have to give up their privileges that the Orb nobles who join this council are expected to do. This council then advises the Orb Head and other Orb nobles of how best to perform the duties expected of them."

"As I understand," A reporter with what looked like the flag of Italy said loudly, "The advice is regarded so crucial to the point that it is often considered a binding precedent on nobles and the Orb Head. The power of dispensing that advice and expecting it to be followed has arguably been manifested in subsidiary legislation- such as the Orb Nobles Marriage Act and the section relevant to the Orb Head, who is the most important of the Orb Nobles. Surely, the Britannian Premier must gone through the scrutiny that is presumably integral to when the council decides whether the Orb Noble, let alone, the Orb Head, is choosing a worthy marriage partner. Sir, why did you propose in the first place?"

"I will leave the finer details to all those in this room who know the Orb Princess as both a person and as a leader." Marlin said firmly, looking at every face in there. "But as a person, you must know that she meant the world to me- the way she means the world to so many of the Orb people."

He stood up, ignoring the mutters in the room, and he began to pace before them. It was part pretence, part truth, and Marlin himself did not know which was which at that point. But hiding the lie within truth was a very important technique of politics, and Marlin was very good at politics. All he knew was that his pulse was throbbing and his voice was strident, adding to the effect he had wanted to create.

"As I was driven here this morning," He said to the room filled with cameras and faces he did not recognise. "I looked at the streets and saw Cagalli's people. I saw them hurrying to work, some spilling coffee on themselves when the bus jerked to a stop, and I saw mothers taking their children to school. Men were holding their newspapers, and some were, as you are now, debating what would happen to Orb. Surely-," He said, softening his voice, "my fiancée would have seen all this every morning, even before she entered her office. Surely, all she had wanted was to protect every man, woman and child in Orb, to give them the chance to live a life worth living."

Aaron stared at the Marlin's back, and quietly, he looked at Kira. Kira's head was bowed and Aaron could not decipher what both Cagalli's friend and twin were thinking. He too, could not decipher if Marlin was merely indulging in theatrics or speaking sincerely. But Aaron knew that did not matter, for if it could touch even him, it would surely make the reporters touched and in turn, write such that the readers would believe even more in the Orb Princess and refuse to have any other emir take power until she was presumed dead.

Marlin's voice grew into a magnificent crescendo as he continued with his rhetoric, and while the cameras continued filming, the camera men's were certainly eyes getting misty.

If all went well, Marlin calculated, he would be seeing himself on the telly during primetime tonight. Hopefully, there would be a nationwide shortage of tissues. Just to be sure, he continued at some length.

"If she were to be harmed, would she die blaming someone for causing her death? I think not. Would she have cried, not as a leader who lost power, but as a woman, as a mother, or even a lover, who watched a dear one being left behind while she was being taken away? Certainly. Would she die blaming herself for not being able to serve Orb, for being prevented from giving her last breath to Orb? Absolutely."

Suddenly, one of the reporters began to cry quietly, and a few began to join in.

Within minutes, the atmosphere had become a frazzled, tense one with more than half of the reporters looking either despondent or plain miserable, regardless of whether they were from Orb or not.

The Orb reporters were praying fervently to Haumea on their knees, the others joining in too or even praying to a whole plethora of various other gods and celestials. Marlin wondered if the gods had some kind of email system that was currently being flooded with the subject title 'Cagalli Yula Atha'. Even the less religious contended with blowing their noses.

And privately, Marlin was rather impressed at how these people thought so highly and so reverently of Cagalli. It was almost as if they worshipped her. It was clear that she was very loved, and now, he recalled what Aaron had told him.

In the car, along the way to the parliament house, Marlin had asked Aaron why Cagalli was known as the Orb Princess when there was technically no more monarchy to speak of. There was only a circle of the four great Houses and other circles of sub-houses branching from that main circle. Her father had certainly never been known as a king or prince, nor Lady Sahaku anything similar to that. In fact, those from the Atha, Sahaku, Seiran and Lyadov Houses were known as Lords and Ladies- common titles denoting their House identifies as conferred to them from birth. The Orb Head had the privilege of having his or her first name featured such as Lord Uzumi. So why had a title of 'princess' been conferred to Cagalli and used so liberally even in the international community when it was in fact, unofficial even in Orb?

"Well, think about it." Aaron had said snippily, pointing out of the car's windows to the gigantic screens in the town square. Those for weeks now, had been showing footage of Cagalli smiling and waving from some heavily-guarded vehicle. "People find mascots important for promoting a cause, no?"

"Like Mickey Mouse?" Marlin had supplied helpfully, staring at a nearby screen mounted on a desperately tall skyscraper. Cagalli's smile was radiant, and she looked like a goddess, staring into the distance into what must have been the camera at that time.

"Not that, you idiot!" Aaron had snapped, confirming Marlin's suspicions that Aaron was the only living person who remained uncharmed by him. Even the stonefish-like Kira Yamato was more receptive to Marlin. "I mean like, Betty Boop, pin-ups girls, that idiotic looking milkmaid for those dairy chocolates-,"

He interrupted himself with a negligent little wave of his hand, turning back to the footage of Cagalli on the screens as the car zoomed by. "Oh forget it- comparing Orb's living icon to those two-dimensional tarts would be like displaying Ming vases next to my attempts to build a Lego castle."

"You came up with those examples yourself." Marlin had pointed out.

"You made me!" Aaron had exclaimed huffily.

"I get your point." Marlin had said hurriedly. "But I don't get it."

"Think about it, you stupid schmuck," Aaron had huffed again, shifting in the car. "Imagine the average Orb citizen- one who is rather wealthy and jaded mind you, because that's how they come these days. And imagine how interested they'd be in politics if it didn't concern their rice bowls. Even with any relevant social issue, they wouldn't give a hoot as long as the word 'inflation' and 'recession' wasn't in it."

"But the average Orb citizen is one of the most politically-interested and nationalistic compared to the average Earth Alliance citizen or even the Plant citizen." Marlin had said in surprise. "After the Second War, anyway. The Plant Coordinators got tired of speeches about their rights to live when their economy was apparently in a major doldrum. Even the Earth Alliance citizens got tired of the rhetoric about motherland, clean and blue, and all that waffle when they had no jobs and were starving."

"My point precisely." Aaron had told him. "This miracle happened after the Second War. And that miracle goes by the name of someone you've been introducing as your fiancée for more than a week now. Did you think she liked being addressed as the Orb Princess?"

Aaron had snorted then, interrupting himself, and Marlin stared at the fiercely-protective personal assistant to the Orb Princess. "Let me tell you something, Premier. She's been called many variations of Princess. She's been called the Amber Princess, the Golden Princess, Haumea's child, the Sable Lady, the Lioness of Orb- that sort of thing that newspapers somehow love, which-," He shrugged, "She really hates."

"Why?" Marlin had wondered.

"Because it sissified her, she complained to me once." Aaron's answer had been swift and curt. "Except the Lioness of Orb title- I think she's secretly okay with that although she insists that calling a spade a spade and an Orb Head and Orb Head, is what the world should do. She doesn't want to be known as a princess. But that's exactly what Orb and the world wants- they are in love with that image of a delicate, precious princess who at the end of the day, is really worth more than a few men put together."

Smiling privately now, Marlin looked at the people before him.

Cagalli Yula Atha had started being noticed after the First War, but she had certainly been thrust into the spotlight during and after the Second War. She had once been described to be what Lacus Clyne was to Plant- a princess. But in her context, Cagalli was of nobility and even more aptly addressed as such. Marlin could imagine how the average Orb citizen would have felt when the face of politics had been Cagalli Yula Atha's. It was almost a fairy-tale.

A young, attractive girl, beautiful to the point that it might have worked against her, taking the lead and all the power in Orb. A young, attractive woman-child who had the guts of a man and the strength of a lion, pulling Orb from the abysses of the ruined economic depression it had sunk into at the hands of its previous Seiran leader. The Orb Princess with her golden hair and eyes- light for her people. No wonder the interest in the national politics after Cagalli Yula Atha had become the Orb Head. If Marlin had guessed correctly, her personal advisors would have played on this appeal, even though he was quite sure Cagalli did not like it.

Whatever the case, the room was filled with people who worshipped her, whether they were from Orb or not.

"If there are no more questions," Aaron said firmly, "We will take our leave."

He stood up, as did Kira, and Marlin began to walk with them towards the door. Clearly, they were tired of this, and Marlin was sure Aaron would berate him for leading the media into hysterics. Of course, this would be moot, for Aaron knew that Marlin was right. Kira would probably remain quiet throughout everything, Marlin supposed.

"Wait, sirs! I have one last question!"

The three men turned around. The others in the room dried their tears hastily enough and focused on the reporter who had been significantly less affected to be able to pose a question mostly coherently.

"With all due respect to the Britannian Premier, why did the Orb Princess choose you?" A reporter queried. "She was known to be selfless in her desire to serve Orb- even to the point where she declared she would never marry because she had no time for anything else with even the smallest, most insignificant child to think of in Orb."

Aaron frowned slightly, knowing that quote had been taken out of context. Cagalli had certainly declared she would never get married once, but that had been out of irritation and frustration at being buggered by the reporters who had wanted to know why she refused so many potential suitors. But in this case, the reporter's quoting out of context was to their advantage.

Marlin cast his eye towards the reporters once more, subconsciously counting the number of heads.

If it had been someone less appealing, someone less capable, someone any less than Cagalli Yula Atha, whose heritage was of Uzumi Nara Atha's and whose innocence and purity belied her clout and strength, Marlin would have seen less than half the number of reporters in the room, let alone a whole hall of worshippers bemoaning the possible fate of the Orb Princess.

"Yes," Marlin said smoothly, strolling back to his seat with just the right amount of heartache in his face. "She often said that to me. She often reminded me that her husband would be second to Orb, but that may have been in jest."

Aaron fought back the urge to glare.

In Aaron's opinion, Marlin seemed the sort who would twist people around his finger a little too much. After all, he was already working up the reporters more than Aaron or Kira would ever hope of doing, and Aaron was a bit afraid that the public would expect too much from Cagalli with regards Marlin now.

While Aaron knew exactly what Marlin was doing and thought it was mostly good, Aaron certainly did not want the public to like Marlin too much. If Cagalli returned and found out that the public was deeply in love with Marlin and thereby expected her to be as well, she would throttle Aaron. Frowning slightly, Aaron turned to Kira, wondering if Marlin would lose control of himself and indulge in the moment a little too much

Kira Yamato also looked a bit tense. They had already discussed this amongst themselves, and they had agreed that it was suicidal to go into the finer details of a faked engagement. Going too deeply into it would make it more difficult for Cagalli to write it off when she returned, assuming she did return and did not want to marry Marlin.

The public would grow too heady and expectant on her return and a subsequent marriage, and they would not accept it if she pulled out of a marriage that had been highly hyped-up. At the same time, Marlin could not skim over it when the plot was to ensure the Orb Parliament did not write her out of the picture on the basis that she would have refused marriage and abdicated anyway. Skimming over it would have been akin to admitting that it was a lie.

Either way, Aaron thought frustratedly, involved a cliff, oceans and sharks surrounding them. The only lifeboat here was Marlin, and Aaron prayed Marlin wouldn't turn out to be a leaky boat either. The reporters were still clamouring for an answer, well charmed by Marlin already.

"Why you, sir?"

"Tell us!"

"Why?"

Like flocks of crows, they circled at a distance, kept back only by the demarcated boundaries.

Marlin merely smiled again, his voice sonorous to signal the finality of his words. "Because we love each other, that's why."

There was a swell of sound and the cameras went wild again.

* * *

More than a thousand miles away, Cagalli stood at the foot of Athrun's bed, unaware of the new events beyond the Isle.

For the whole day, she had not seen Athrun; that is until he had abruptly appeared in the dining room for dinner. Despite her secret wish that they could have their meal outdoors under the sky, the air was growing colder now, and dinner would have to be indoors.

During that dinner, her efforts to be warmer towards him had been mostly pointless, for he did not reciprocate. While Cagalli could sense that he was appreciative of those efforts still, he did not seem to want any kind of particular attention from her.

Up until now, Cagalli was wondering if Athrun was trying to make up for that time when he had shown her so much weakness. Cheeks scarlet, all Cagalli could think of was that at least nobody else had been in the hall.

It was strange, that resistance and attraction within him when she had tried to make him comfortable. When she had poured a drink for him, he accepted it graciously. When she saw that the maids had left, she had reached for his hand, touching it lightly, but he had snatched it away so tensely that she flinched too. After his meal, Athrun had left for his room quietly, and she watched him from where she was sitting, hoping against hope that he would give her a sign.

Yet, he didn't brush his fingers against hers, despite her leaving many chances for him when she had sat next to him at the table. Nor did he spare her a glance as a subtle invitation for her to follow. There would certainly be little chance for her to approach him privately, and Cagalli had been quite sure that Athrun would retreat back to his room and rest. Besides, Epstein had been watching them like a hawk, and Cagalli had felt rather uncomfortable at what Epstein must have been thinking.

Unlike Epstein, she did not know what Athrun was thinking at all.

What she did know however, was good enough to make her do what she proceeded to. She had returned to her room after dinner, took a bath to calm herself, wrapped a robe around, and then picked at the lock to the passage from her room, and entered his.

And when she could finally voice out what she wanted, Cagalli knew he had long predicted it.

While Athrun had half-sat, half-laid in bed, resting with his bandaged arm and his hair fanned out over the white pillow in that strange beautiful shade of midnight, Cagalli had thought he looked almost like a woman. Bearing testimony to his bareness beneath the sheets and his apparent vulnerability was the bathrobe, which had been draped over a chair. He seemed to be seeking refuge under the sheets, but the coldness of his gaze and the sureness of his expression told otherwise.

But since his skin was almost as pale as the sheets, and because those were covering him, save for his collarbone and his arms, Athrun looked painfully delicate. If one did not see how muscular and sinewy his arms and chest were, his soft if slightly thin lips and the well-defined jaw were the only sign of his masculinity. To a faraway observer, one would have thought he appeared as unsure and dazed as a young woman waking from her first experience with a man. But ironically enough, this was not the case. As Rune Estragon, Cagalli was sure Athrun would have been able to take the worst devil as his servant. The hardness of his mouth and the steel in his eyes were indeed proof of that.

Naturally, she was the one quaking under her bathrobe as she stood at the foot of his bed. Cagalli was rather unsettled by Athrun, for in her eyes, he would have seemed to be the woman and she the man who dominated. Yet, Athrun was clearly not a simple person. And if he allowed himself to be dominated, Cagalli knew that was only because he wanted to be and not because anyone merely could.

Her hair was mostly dried but damp enough for tendrils of water to snake their way down her neck and shoulders, his eyes not leaving her face.

"I want to send a letter back to Orb. To Kira." She said this after a pause, her voice shaking with the tiny tremor of fear that was still unmistakable.

His eyes narrowed, and those did not show surprise or shock. He looked almost triumphant, as if he'd known of this all along. And as Cagalli looked at Athrun, holding her breath, she knew he must have predicted that she would want to contact someone back in Orb.

After all, she had struck a deal that allowed her to confirm what she had feared, and naturally, her next deal would be to work from the Isle to prevent a catastrophe from occurring. She wet her lips, hoping to remain calm. "Of course, I'll pay you whatever you want as long as it's fair and proportionate to what you're giving.

"No." Athrun said simply, without even bothering to shift. His voice was without any clear disapproval, as if she'd asked for something inane like whether he was wealthy or not.

He eased an arm over to the little bedside table and took a book, flipping it casually and almost even good-naturedly to the bookmarked page.

'Emmanuel Kant: Ethical Deontology,' Cagalli read silently from its cover. She berated herself instantly for getting distracted when Athrun had probably planned it, then quickly focused back on her captor.

"But Athrun," Cagalli wheedled, putting a more pleading tone into her voice as she stood at the foot of his rather large bed. "I don't see why you can't let me-,"

"I said no." Athrun repeated courteously, almost like a father who used the law of parenthood and its privileges to ignore a child's appeals for a plastic toy. Being Uzumi Nara Atha's child had long made Cagalli aware that refusal did not have to come with explanation. But she insisted with Athrun now.

"That's not being fair." Cagalli said, upset at how lazily he was reading. Without really responding, he made a slight sound, a hand reaching over again to fetch a pair of glasses without his eyes even leaving the page. He slid on the glasses, adjusting it with a finger that pushed at the nose-bridge, and Cagalli glared at him. "You need to give me an explanation at least."

"Well, the thing is," He said, finally looking up from where he was in bed. Emmanuel Kant apparently, was more interesting than her, it seemed. "You don't have anything of any value left to offer."

She stared, stung and insulted by what he said. If he had jeered and taunted her, Cagalli would have felt slightly more equipped to lash back. But as it was, Athrun seemed to be stating facts- facts that she had established by lying to him and telling him that she had an ongoing relationship with another man that the Orb Council of Elders had long approved of.

His expression softened slightly, although the glint of his glasses hid it and the book was soon covering his face again. "I suppose I might have said that any more between us would be far too dangerous."

"I don't really need you to be less harsh." She said in a low voice. "I just need you to see that I can please you if you let me."

Cagalli stepped forward boldly, sliding into the bed and taking his book irreverently. She tossed it to the floor, ignoring his little grunt of protest as she slid her arms over his shoulders and forced him to lie down completely. As she did, Cagalli craftily reached to his glasses and took them off, bending over him to put them at the table. His body's contact with hers gave lesser warmth than she expected from his bare skin beneath the sheets, and Cagalli wondered if her robe was preventing her from absorbing that heat.

Athrun however, tried shifting away. As she clung to him, the hair she had pinned up tumbled down, giving way completely now. It was evocative of light, and he kept his eyes open, wanting to be blinded, wanting her to blind him.

Mere hours ago, Epstein had entered Athrun's study and handed him the reports that he had asked for.

Article after article from tabloids and established papers alike, from Orb and almost every other country that had a press. A common thread ran through all- James Marlin.

"Do you think he loves her?" Epstein had asked in a hushed voice.

Athrun's answer had been grim. "He's either a man in love or a very good actor."

Marlin was certainly in love with Cagalli, from what Athrun had seen of the most recent reports pertaining to the existing engagement. A besotted man could be spotted a mile away by one of his own kind, and Marlin's statements had been explicit in his intention to find Cagalli and marry her.

And from what Athrun had understood so far, Cagalli may or may not have been in love with Marlin, but she must have bewitched Marlin without meaning to. Her temper was infamous, although this was mostly not commented on, thanks to her spokesperson's control of the media. And she was undoubtedly rash and acerbic, even abrasive outside the office; that was certain for people who knew her privately.

To cap it all off, Cagalli was reputed to be highly disinterested in any one man- or men in general. The pictures were proof of that- she was escorted by a different one to every different event. She looked charmed by none, except the pictures where Marlin appeared with her. Those had been featured extensively by the newspapers in line with his statements.

From the looks of it, Athrun thought soberly, Marlin had fared the best. And there was only so much a man would have done for a friend. The trouble that Marlin was putting himself through was certainly not possible if Cagalli had been anything less than his lover and prospective wife. The real question was, did Cagalli love this man?

Athrun recalled Marlin's face and had to admit that he was certainly a looker- the sort who was immensely and frighteningly likeable. In fact, all the articles had been written in an incredibly, almost unbelievably flattering light for Marlin, who had been depicted as a brave, sorrowful warrior and not some scheming power-grubber as he might have been very easily written off by a protective and nationalistic Orb media.

There was still doubt in Athrun's mind. If she loved another man, why could would she not tell Athrun directly, but claim that it was merely part of her duties? And even if she loved Marlin, would she go as far as to simply marry just to keep Orb safe for her father and for herself? Was she so dependant on holding her current power to uphold the memory of her father, and so hungry for more power that she would do that? Or was Orb under some devastating threat that it needed Britannia's power at all costs?

It made no sense in the last case. Orb was more than safe. It had reinstated itself as a mega-power under Cagalli Yula Atha, and its military and deterrent power rivalled Plant's. The Earth Alliance had recently entrusted some of its colonies to Orb, and Orb was expanding. Under her, Orb wasn't just an economic superpower. There was something clearly more openly aggressive than it had been before. While it still advocated self-containment and self-sufficiency where its political views were concerned, every Coordinator and Natural knew it had enough military power to rival even the Earth Alliance and Plant combined.

At this point, he turned away from Cagalli, ending the gaze they had both held when she'd removed his glasses. Their silent battle of wills was coming to a close.

"If only you knew why people love you." Athrun said softly.

She stared at him.

Everyone admired the Orb government and its head. The Orb government was made of some of the most intelligent, talented people with a good mix of Coordinators and Naturals to keep the harmony within Orb. Athrun knew for a fact that many top thinkers from both Plant and the Earth Alliance had emigrated to Orb because it was blind to heritage.

Their current leader was more formidable than any other Orb had seen. She was made of steel, even reports outside Orb claimed. She was capable of anything, and she would never break, only flourish with every year. There were legendary stories of Cagalli Yula Atha taking on foreign representatives who had come to negotiate with Orb. Every deal she sealed was in Orb's favour.

And beyond that, there was an enigma surrounding her that nobody could explain- the warmth and vitality that was exposed to the public each time she appeared. She was very beautiful as well- that was often said of the Orb Princess, and so many outside Orb admired her as much as the Orb people. The ability to appeal to the youngest child and to the oldest person in Orb had been missing in her father, who had often gained his power from those who had influence over Orb in the first place. And for that, her people loved her more than any other.

"What makes you think that I don't why?" Cagalli asked uncomfortably.

"The way you conform to their expectations," Athrun answered numbly. "The way you're afraid that not doing so would make Orb's people love you less."

It was exceedingly clear to Athrun that Cagalli wasn't her own person. To her, what she was doing was only an extension of what her father had deemed necessary for her to complete. Moreover, Cagalli simply did not realise that she had long stepped out of Lord Atha's shadow and become more formidable than Orb's revered and martyred former leader.

"It is true though," Cagalli argued. "That I want to do all I can for Orb. Orb is part of me, and I need to ensure it's safe."

Frustration flooded into him as he watched her, although Athrun was careful not to show it. He had not right to say this was all untrue.

Yet, he knew, instinctively, that Cagalli desired to be near him whether Orb existed or not. This had little to do with pride- it was a case of a man with a phantom arm being presented with the same arm that he'd lost. When he'd seen her again, standing on the deck the night he'd taken her back to the Isle, he had recognised what he had been missing for so long. And even now, as she stared at him, her eyes and hair like light and her lips moist, he knew they were meant to hold each other, meant to embrace and crush each other in passion and destroy each other if that was the only way they could touch with all the feeling in them

"What would your fiancé say?" Athrun said tensely, pulling her hand away but holding it in his.

Now Cagalli reached to him and touched his cheek lightly with her finger. What would he give, he thought sadly, to have her tell him that she wanted to stay by his side.

She flushed, lowering her eyes, her voice defensive. "Leave him out of this."

Was this karma? To have the only woman he'd ever truly loved lie by his side but not love him back was a nice, sound bite in his posterior. He was made to behave like a beast, taking from her even though he had no real consent; knowing that she was another man's.

"It's still a very sound political move to marry James Marlin," Athrun had admitted to Epstein earlier, "Even if she may not necessarily want to marry him out of love."

It had been quite unnecessary for the papers to report the Council of Elder's representative's statement with regards to James Marlin. One objective look at Marlin told Athrun that the average Orb noble, the Parliament, let alone the average street urchin would surely approve of James Marlin. Orb had never had an alliance with Britannia, despite that empire being quite formidable both economically and politically.

In fact, in the years that had passed after the Second War, all that remained for Orb to take on had really been Britannia. Even parts of the Earth Alliance had been ceded to Orb, but not a single territory under the Britannian Empire. It made sense for Orb to want a finger in that pie too.

"Do you think she had a choice?" Epstein had asked then.

"Yes in that she could choose as long as the Elders approved." Athrun had answered diffidently. "No, if you consider that she still had to marry and that person would have to be approved of by people who wouldn't even be sharing the bed."

The laws and traditions of the Orb Council of Elders had been the most important factor in this. Marlin, as Cagalli had told him, had simply been the most suitable candidate, whether or not she wanted to marry.

"You have to admire the laws pertaining to the Orb Royal families." Epstein had sighed. "Those who had set the system up were possibly the most cunning, forward-looking politicians and monarchs."

Athrun had thoroughly agreed.

At present, he contended with watching Cagalli- the result of the system and the wills of those before her. Those in their graves would always haunt her if Cagalli decided that they were alive enough for her to have to obey. Certainly, her face was troubled, mirroring his thoughts. He kept his as a blank slate, willing himself to be still.

"What are you thinking about?" She whispered, trying to read him when really, attempting to read herself may have been a greater challenge.

So Athrun remained silent.

And frowning a little at his lack of response but not understanding the thoughts in his mind, Cagalli stroked his fringe away from his eyes and drew her mouth to his slowly. He did not resist and she ignored how he was watching her quietly and warily, like an animal that was about to bolt. So she kissed him deeply, parting his lips to explore, liking how clean he tasted.

There was an intoxicating simplicity of naturalness- how comfortable Athrun was even in only his bare skin beneath these sheets, how his aftershave lingered on his flesh as he bent back, letting her press him down. It was exceedingly clear that Athrun was really calling the shots here. He was more cunning, more experienced, and she suspected he knew what she really felt for him.

Despite how weak and vulnerable he looked with his body covered by the sheets, he was no insecure, weak-willed girl who was being cajoled into the bed. As he laid there patiently, waiting for her to finish and grow tired with his obliging, almost good-natured response, she was reminded of a well-behaved child accepting detested vegetables without complaint but only apathy. And it occurred to Cagalli that with his control and with his firmness, he was really the one invading her.

Disgruntled, she drew away slightly although she was still pinning him down, only the sheets and her bathrobe between their flesh.

"Why don't you respond?" Cagalli demanded, her cheeks flushing. "Am I so unappealing that you don't even feel tempted to agree to what I asked of you? Is my kissing so amateur that you'd just lie there and ignore me?"

Almost benevolently, he smiled, mocking her. "I pity you, Cagalli. For all your cleverness and your said experience, you are rather uninformed when it comes to these matters."

"Uninformed?" Cagalli exclaimed, half in shock, half in fear that he had somehow found out that she had been lying to him all this while. Athrun, she knew, would not take kindly to her lying to him, and less so when she had known to make him jealous enough to accept contracts with her. "How so?"

He smiled lightly again. "An informed person would certainly know when another was interested."

"Damn it, Athrun, you keep leading me on and then being all nutty again- how am I to respond to you?" Cagalli said, frustrated.

He sat up, pushing her off as a result, although he soon pulled her closer and stared down at her. His arm injury was almost healed, but Cagalli realized that even a more serious injury would have been negligible where his will was concerned.

"Let's get some things straight here, and don't you dare argue with me," Athrun warned as she began to protest, "Or I'll ban your visits to the garden, which Epstein tells me you've grown quite attached to."

" 'Kay," She eeped, a bit scared by the flash of irritation she saw in his eyes and the way his wound seemed irrelevant by how firmly he was gripping her elbows.

"One," Athrun said clearly, "I am not leading you on and then blowing you off. If anything, you are doing that to me. I, on the other hand, am trying not to be stupid and allow situations whereby I'd slit my throat if you asked me to. And don't tell me you didn't think of leading me into that situation- I know better than you with what you're up to."

Her eyes widened, and Cagalli began to try and shake herself out of his grip, but he only sat up more, the sheets falling to his waist as he glared at her. "Two, I don't care if you use your wiles against me, Cagalli, since I'm obviously susceptible to it."

"Susceptible?" Cagalli said unsurely, not understanding. "You mean you're affected by me?"

Quite straighforwardly, Athrun told her the truth, raising an eyebrow. "If you want me to spell it out, I don't see why I shouldn't. We aren't blushing youngsters anymore, and pretending to be would be childish."

She sputtered a little, blushing even though she did not want to. On the other hand, Athrun continued without batting an eyelid, as if he was informing her of the weather.

"Obviously, I would like to snog you senseless- which you often let me anyway. Obviously, I would like to hold you in my arms- which you've allowed me to do. Obviously I would like to do more. I'd like to have you in my bed properly, and I'd like to have you letting me make love to you."

"What-," Her voice was telling of her surprise at his openness and the candor she could never give him. He had said all this simply, almost confessional, but with that wryness that made everything almost apathetic and even a matter of fact and not passion. Her voice was failing her. "Wha-,"

He shook his head, silencing her, and he grabbed one of her hands, moving it to his thigh where she could feel his arousal below the thin sheets.

His face showed no expression, and his voice was steady and almost matter-of-factly. "Do you understand how susceptible I am to you?"

Heat blossoming over her face again, Cagalli stared at him, and even when he let go of her hand, she had to shake herself to her senses before she brought the hand slowly to his shoulder, shifting closer to him, not looking away from his intent gaze now.

Screw Kant and his ethical theories and preaching about how intention justified the eventual act. Her act would justify all, because it was for Orb's good. Never mind that her heart ached badly enough for her to want to give in; never mind that being near Athrun made her feel human again with all the flaws of fallibility; never mind that with Athrun, she wanted to hold his face in her hands and place her forehead against his to understand him.

Cagalli spoke carefully, wondering how to deal with such situations. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I could offer you-,"

"I haven't finished," He spoke sharply, cutting her off. "As I was saying, I don't care that you know how to make me want you. It's the truth that I want you, whether you make use of me or not. But I care," Athrun said through gritted teeth. "That you're using yourself in a stupid way to get out of here when all you have to do is wait."

"You don't understand," Cagalli said desperately, "If Orb isn't safe, I-,"

"I said, don't argue with me." Athrun shook her by her shoulders, frowning. Cagalli stared mutely at him, still very near him, struck by what he'd said and how her pulse was still thundering away.

"Three, you've established that you have an ongoing relationship with the Britannian Premier," His tone became a little less unreadable as a note of bitterness wrenched its way in. "But that doesn't mean you can easily tempt me into doing stupid things for you. Of course, it's pointless lying that I'm not jealous of your fiancé."

Heart beating in her throat and ears, Cagalli stared at him. "Athrun-, you,"

He smiled wryly, acknowledging what he had said with a careless little shrug. "It's true that I have a terrible urge to leave the Isle and track down the Britannian Premier. I'd like to strangle him with my bare hands, and I suppose the obviousness of that makes it pointless trying to hide it from you."

Privately, Cagalli chose not to tell Athrun that no, she hadn't known he was this upset with her supposed-engagement with Marlin. If she could use it later, she would. For now, she wanted to unearth the source of his dislike for Marlin. In fact, Cagalli was quite curious as to how jealous she had made Athrun of Marlin.

"But why should you dislike him when he hasn't done anything to offend you?" Cagalli persisted, placing her hands on his shoulders even when Athrun was now holding her by the elbows. "He's a good man, really he is, and everyone in Orb trusts him."

Athrun only looked at her with an irritated shake of his head. "I'm not blind or an imbecile, Cagalli. I can read the reports myself, and trust me; I've been reading about his relationship with you in greater detail than what my molars can bear."

Her mouth fell open. "What did you say?"

"I said," Athrun said darkly, "He's been busy telling the world about your relationship with him, and that includes the full blow-by-blow of how you met, what kind of biscuits you liked, whether you were pressed into marrying him by the Council of Elders- all of that."

He looked away, grimacing. "And come to think of it, I never even knew you liked orange-rind biscuits."

Cagalli bit back the retort that she did not really, and Marlin had made that up because those were the first biscuits he had probably thought of. Instead, she looked at Athrun intently. "Why are you jealous of him?"

"Well, what do you think?" He said, nonplussed. "Never mind that he looks like a Greek God and that anybody would kiss his feet if he asked for it. Including you," He added curtly, and she had to bite back her retort.

"It's more of the matter that I want to strangle him personally for the sole reason that he will have you when I can't." Athrun concluded soberly.

She gaped, and he ignored her.

"But my deepest, darkest desires to shoot him doesn't mean I'd do anything for you. Of course, your fiancé still got me bristling with the killer line- that he loves you more than Britannia and you love him more than Orb."

She was stunned at the incredulity of it all- that Marlin had said such a thing and that the world and even Athrun Zala, cool, skeptical and very rational, would believe it. "Good god, he said-,"

"Fine, fine" He interjected grumpily in a strange show of childish pique. "I admit I made up the last bit, but that's essentially everything his statements were gearing towards. The whole room of reporters were weeping by the time he was done with them."

She had to laugh, despite the severity of the situation. She laughed and laughed, and tears fell from her eyes because it was all so ridiculous. By this time, Athrun had let go of her elbows and had circled his hands around her waist. His touch was no longer a grip, but was tender and playful even.

Liking how secure she felt, enjoying how natural they could be with each other in spite of how pathetic they all were in reality, Cagalli bent forward, trying to kiss him this time, intent on making him respond. But he shook his head, effectually telling her that he was being dead serious now, warning her not to distract him.

"And that brings me back to the issue. " Athrun concluded, "There's no point you playing with danger and putting so much at stake. You don't have what it takes to not get emotionally involved, Cagalli. You're better off digging a tunnel into the ground in hopes of escaping than trying to use the obvious attraction I feel towards you against me. You're hurting yourself."

His expression turned a bit wistful as he brought her closer to him, and then transferred a hand to run it through her slightly damp hair, measuring its length. "The days when I did everything in hopes of earning your heart may well and truly be over. I've settled for less since then."

He stared at her, his mouth hardening and both his hands tighter on her elbows again. His allowance of a less grim less serious atmosphere was no longer present, and Cagalli realize that his face and voice were both pained. "And so should you."

Cagalli drew in a deep breath, bringing her hands away from his shoulders to hers, where she undid the bathrobe such that it fell to her waist, making her equal with Athrun where vulnerability was concerned.

He stared at her, and unafraid this time, she looked boldly back at him.

"We both settled for at least this." She reminded him, taking his hand from her waist and placing it on her collarbone. "And your taking more wouldn't mean I am giving more than what I can offer."

He studied her. "You're not going to let me have some peace if I don't hear you out, I assume?"

"That's right." Cagalli confirmed, shifting slightly against him. "And I think I know enough to say that if we start cold-shouldering each other, just like when I was first brought here, we're both going to be very irritable people who can't function."

He smiled slightly, and caressed her cheek, looking almost sad but with that wariness that masked any other clear emotion.

If only Cagalli knew the extent of truth that lay in what she had just said, Athrun thought wryly. "Then what are you offering if I let you send that letter?"

"That depends on what you want." Cagalli said confidently- more confidently than she felt. She was no longer the child who had stammered in front of her father ad begged him to let her go to school with other children, Cagalli told herself fiercely, and she could do this- she could make Athrun listen and let her do what she needed to do.

"I don't know." Athrun said honestly and a bit ruefully. "I haven't thought of it. I've already gotten a personally approved Orb citizenship to further my businesses, a kiss and your company at night. I'm not sure what else to take."

"You can always think of it as a blank cheque," She answered in a low voice. "Once I actually send the letter, you can come and claim what you want."

"Alright." He agreed softly, laying her down now on her side and sliding down to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, knowing she was not meant to, knowing she was not supposed to, and enjoying it all the more for that. "But you need to ensure that Kira won't reject it as a fake. Even the official seal of Orb wouldn't convince the random person on the street that it was from you."

"I know." Cagalli said confidently. "I can handle that. I have an insignia that only I know of, and the only seal that exists is locked away in the safe back in my house, in Orb. But I know it well enough to draw it out again."

He studied her. "I suppose I could recreate it if you drew an accurate depiction of that insignia. I'm guessing it isn't the one with a lion and the flower?"

"No." She shook her head, looking a bit wary. "It's far more complicated than that, but I know it like the back of my hand. I'll draw it soon, and then you can make me a seal that I'll use to certify that the letter is from me."

"That's not all. You do know that I can't allow you to write whatever you would try to write in there, don't you?" Athrun spoke.

She felt his lips around her collarbone, and blinked once, but settled into the darkness of her closed eyes again. Her arms found their way around his shoulders. "I know. I'm fine with that. I just need to reassure Kira, Lacus and-, Her voice paused a little, "James- that I'm fine."

His breath warmed her cool skin, and she could feel Athrun nuzzle against her. His voice however, was not as gentle as his touch, and she shivered, knowing how he was trying to control the emotions in it.

"James." He said softly, in something of a whisper. "You call him Jimmy at times, don't you?"

"A nickname." Cagalli admitted, not daring to open her eyes, like an ostrich trying to hide its face in the sand and hoping it would not be seen because it could not see anyone.

"How quaint." He said dryly, moving above her as he brushed his lips against her shoulder. A roaring pain was erupting in his shoulder, not so much physical, but emotional, because Athrun could recall how gently Cagalli had touched him, how carefully she had tended to his wound even in his fever and delirium. Did she even register how fervently he whispered and called her his bonfire, his little wildcat, his Golden even in his dreams? Or was all that nothing to her when Marlin was her own lover, the Jimmy she trusted to catch her when she fell?

"Don't mock me." Cagalli warned. "You have no right to comment on what he and I share. I respect him deeply, and I will not have you at his throat when he can't defend himself here."

"True." Athrun conceded, not sensing the real motivation for her reluctance to talk about Marlin. "And when do you need this letter sent to reassure him that you're still alive and thinking fond thoughts of him?"

"As soon as possible." She told him, without opening her eyes. She was afraid to see the hurt that must have been in them. His sardonic tone had certainly been to remind himself that she belonged to another, but Cagalli too, was hurt by his efforts not to care about her personal life.

It had been simple, she now thought to herself, feeling him rest against her. No matter how he steeled himself, no matter how strong his will was, Athrun's wound had made it very clear that he was human. And humans, Cagalli knew, were slaves to their own dreams and hopes. She was one, but so was Athrun too.

Her voice was very soft as she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his head against her chest and the warmth circulate within their embrace.

"And then you can take whatever you want that I can give."

* * *

The next day, Cagalli awoke to an empty bed once more. It came as a shock, but one that muted rather than one that caused her surprise. How long more, she thought numbly to herself, would it take for everything left in her to die completely? How many more of these mornings of waking up alone would kill off any hope that he would possibly accept her if she chose to tell him of the truth?

Trying not to feel disappointment and a slight anger that had flared in her when she had seen how quietly he must have left, Cagalli had readjusted the bath robe she had fallen asleep in, and moved back to her room through the passage. He had left it unlocked, and she assumed he would have wanted her to keep their relationship secret from his aides.

Still, even when she closed the passage door once she entered her room and thus locked it, Cagalli had been doubtful that the aides were in the dark. The twins would come in and find her here, but surely, they must have known about this passage way?

And even if nobody except Athrun and her knew of his passage way, Cagalli was quite sure that Epstein at least, was aware of her relationship with his master. Or thought he did, at least. There was no secret even if it wasn't talked about openly, that she was visiting their master's room on certain nights. The maids were probably not in the know of what potential activities might have occurred when Cagalli visited their master's room. But they must have still informed Epstein that Cagalli slept there at times. That Athrun had allowed Cagalli close while being resistant to his aides' efforts to tend to his wound was rather telling.

Now, as Cagalli moved to the garden with the intention to paint, she reflected that ever since the contract had been made between them, small incremental changes had been made in the household. It was as if to reaffirm the change in their master and his captive's relationship.

This morning, Epstein had shot her a knowing glance during breakfast while she quickly downed the variety of vitamins and supplements. While Cagalli did not see Miles Summon and June Requiem at all these days, their prescriptions were still fed to her, with the additional pills that she took without protesting.

And when Cagalli had first noticed the addition of the new drugs, she realised that Athrun's aide must have assumed that his master had probably taken the captive as a mistress.

So it continued now that on every morning now, even if Athrun did not appear for that whole day, there would be a small, innocuous-looking pill amidst the other supplements that was placed near her goblet. Nobody said anything of course, save for the knowing look in Epstein's eyes. Cagalli did not dare to correct this misconception or reject the addition, for fear that Epstein would realise that she was not Athrun's mistress in the entire sense of the word. She was certainly not sleeping with Athrun per se- but what she was doing was certainly more sordid than that. Besides, Epstein had already realised that Athrun's unprecedented move to give her information he had always been so protective of, had been linked to the maids' noticing that Cagalli sometimes visited their master's room.

Her actions of tending to Athrun's wound, Cagalli thought dully, must have reinforced the impression that she was Athrun's mistress.

In the garden, she began to try and paint.

But distracted by the very subject, Cagalli stared at the pond, the darting fishes like the strands of her stray thoughts, escaping each time a ripple reached it concentrated. The flowers in this place were perpetually in bloom, and nothing would thrive more in a controlled environment than flowers that had long been used to this place. Despite the rather convincing sky that was really a glass roof covered by the canopy of shrubs and slim, luxuriant trees, her breathing felt constricted.

Still, she knew that Athrun would certainly know how she felt. A strange kind of understanding had been established when he had agreed to her first offer, and it had deepened into empathy when she had seen him weak and afraid to trust. This offer she had yet to pay for, had also given her a deeper understanding of why he was so reluctant to be near her but why he was drawn to her all the same.

They were both trapped here in this place, in the contracts they'd gotten themselves into, and their own feelings for each other. It was hardly the first time, and it wouldn't be the last time if Cagalli's plans were carried out. By all means, she would make sure those did.

As she sighed inwardly, it occurred to Cagalli that she had never gone through the motions of being in love- not even when she had been or had been vaguely attracted to others before.

Simply put, Cagalli had no experience of sitting by the phone, wondering when a call would come. She couldn't explain the French kissing technique in ten words, unlike Aaron and the office girls, and had to contend with laughing at their raunchy jokes. She didn't know what to do to please a boy, let alone a man, and she certainly didn't understand the feelings of love between a man and woman. What she had though, was the recollection of how the other schoolgirls had behaved although those memories were slightly fuzzy now.

The girls she had witnessed in school had squealed a lot, speaking in modulated voices, sometimes high-pitched, sometimes very husky and hoarse. They had teased her, she remembered, for picking up a shovel that one particularly handsome gardener had dropped, and returning it without wasting more than a word on him, ("Here",) let alone chatting him up.

And the girls had worn fake eyelashes they fluttered at boys in the town square. Some were dating boys from the affiliated school some distance away, and the weekends had been good for dalliances. So many years later, Cagalli saw the same phenomena. On Friday nights, when Cagalli had packed and said goodbye to the office folk, she would notice the females taking off their work blazers and uniforms. That would reveal distinctively revealing dresses and maybe even towering heels as her colleagues had caught cabs or drove to town to party the night away.

The butterflies flittered in frivolous darts of colour, and Cagalli frowned. Miserably, she poured water from a flask into the palette, mixing colours she could not identify anymore. Small, day-time flying moths flittered amongst the grass, and her spirits sank.

Morosely, she dipped the brush into the murky green colour she had somehow created. But it didn't help her. With the badly mixed colour she had not even intended on creating, Cagalli began wondering what to do with the paint now. Aimlessly, she drew a horizontal line across the canvas, dividing it into three-quarters and a quarter. What a fucking mess, she thought bitterly.

And Cagalli was to blame.

Even now, when she was in the garden painting again, her moods were inconstant and prone to changing as she thought of him. Where was Athrun? From what she could see, the pond looked distinctively lonesome, its fronds no longer adorning it but shadowing it, the goldfish barely visible in the still mirror of the water. Why did she think of him so much? Even the trees above the pond seemed to be less of a canopy and more of an umbrella shielding the air around it, making everything stagnant. Did Athrun think she was attractive as she found him? The same scene, and yet the two separate paintings were so different. Where was Athrun, and what was he doing now? Athrun-

"What's wrong with me?" She said aloud in frustration. "Who cares if I wake up alone? Who cares-,"

To herself, Cagalli was being a fool over him and she didn't know how to handle it the way other girls would have at a much younger age. Dear Lord, why had she been so disinterested in boys then? If only she'd paid attention to the lessons that mattered!

Wryly, she began to laugh under her breath. When she had agreed to marry Athrun those years ago, the reality had probably not hit home until the Seirans had reminded her of her place.

They had quoted the legislation regarding her as an Orb Noble- the last of the Seirans, no less. While Cagalli had hated them and would have liked to tear their arguments down, she knew they were making objective sense. The only acceptable marriage for her was a responsibility she was bound to fulfil to Orb anyway- and that meant marrying someone others, although not necessarily her, would have to first approve of. Alex Dino certainly hadn't part of the equation even when her consent had been given to him.

But even with the benefit of hindsight, Cagalli now thought of Athrun and understood why she had been so thrilled when he had presented her with a ring and the promise of a future spent together. He had been awkward, more awkward than she'd ever seen him or expected him to be capable of being, but he had been utterly and painfully sincere.

Moreover, she had come to rely on him as a confidante- something rare and precious in her world. Besides, there was the fact that she was very much in love with him- head over heels, in fact. Naturally, with all those factors present, she had essentially forgotten or perhaps even written off her pre-existing duties to Orb not to marry anyone that the advisory council to the nobles didn't choose. Hindsight though, now told her that it had been a foolish mistake to accept and then eventually turn him away, particularly because Cagalli should have known that it was impossible between them anyway.

As a bodyguard, Alex Dino had been too lowly. As Athrun Zala, he was too dangerous. He carried too much heritage, historical and political burden. Cagalli could imagine what the council of elders would say. He would be deemed a threat to the delicate balance between the Orb coordinators and Orb naturals, and really, Orb couldn't deal with internal conflicts.

Besides, Cagalli thought with a sigh, adding the fronds over the surface of the still pond she had painted, all that was in the past now. The legal documents concerning her and Alex Dino's engagement in Orb had been destroyed exactly twelve hours after she had agreed to marry Yuna Roma Seiran. The Seirans had been planning for quite some time, she supposed. And all that had been left of the promise had been a ring she had been asked to take off anyway.

Even then, she thought with a pang, she had valued it enough to weep in private when she took it off and sealed it in a letter. And that was why her attempts to seduce Rune Estragon were truly laughable, Cagalli thought ruefully. By some strange twist, Marlin had ended up declaring himself her fiancé, and while Cagalli was astute enough to guess what was going on, she was also clever enough to use it against Athrun.

It still wasn't enough that she had confirmed her fears about the world outside the Isle. She could not and would not stop at what she was planning and already executing in order to leave and return to Orb. Now, she was indebted to Athrun.

And yet, it was obvious to herself how much she loved Athrun. There was no other explanation for why her pulse quickened each time she thought of him and imagined him to be in the corridor as she turned corners.

There was danger in their dalliance, admittedly; but it only made the thrill more undeniable. Last night had been proof of that, when he had warned her not to play with his feelings for her lest she get hurt. But Cagalli had been aware that her desire for him had reached a point where she wished she could simply put her hand against his heart and understand him completely, whereby her palms would touch his flesh and she would find a way guide herself into his mind.

A few splattering strokes of paint on the canvas marred its surface more, and the birdsong seemed to pause in contemplation of the waste Cagalli had encouraged. At this point, Cagalli realized that she had been sitting before the gardens, painting for a whole hour, thinking about him. Her painting of the pond was still incomplete although he wasn't even here distracting her and preventing her from finishing it.

Cagalli put away the paints, sighing for another time that day. The picture she was torn between finishing and discarding looked somewhat incomplete anyway. It was a rather richly-coloured but pale, wan state of the pond, as seen through her eyes.

She would never be able to understand Athrun, she reflected. No matter how many contracts she made with him, if he kept himself away, she would never gain a pathway into his mind.

On the other hand, if Athrun did understand her, as she suspected he did, he would have certainly realised that her blind conviction in leaving for Orb was fostered by beliefs that Cagalli was gradually becoming less certain of.

As if to mock her, a leaping fish made her jump too, and startled, she knocked over the easel. Muttering to herself, Cagalli bent and she began busying with setting up the easel.

On hindsight, it had probably been a blessing that the fish had shaken her out of her thoughts. For it was only then that Cagalli realised that she was not alone.

But exactly at that moment when Cagalli realised that there was someone else in the garden, Athrun was in so much pain that he was unable to bite it back into silence.

* * *

He heard a roar rip through the air, above the shouts and screams of those who were attacking. And vaguely, he realised it was his own voice. It made his attacker pause momentarily, but at the moment when Athrun hit him and the man dropped to the floor like a fly, the rest resumed their attacks, leaping at him from different places, surrounding him as wolves would against a single hare.

The stagnant air of the large room was now rusty, and the space was made small by the number of men in it. They had turned against him, Athrun knew. All the work he had put into creating a relationship of trust with Greyfriars, even if the others didn't trust him so much, could have been lost. But Atjrim didn't care. He would kill them all if he wanted.

And by God, he wanted them as dead as he could have.

Striking out, his blade met a throat, and a warm spray of blood painted his hands and his face. He had already used all the bullets in his pistol- a mother like Charles Purcell deserved no more and no less than all in the cartridge that Athrun had.

Of course, the first one had been used on Lyra.

"Estragon, Estragon." Greyfriar's voice, cunning with derision and soft with hatred, came faintly through Athrun's impaired senses. "This is really quite a show you're putting up. Better than all those bullfights and wrestlers, I should say."

Against the sheer number in this room, Athrun could not possibly win. The only person who had a usable gun here was Greyfriars, who seemed content to sit in his chair and observe from afar. In fact, the reason why Greyfriars had taken so quickly to Athrun was the simple reason that both of them trusted nobody and therefore carried a gun and knife on them at all times.

"A worthy man, possibly one after my own heart," Greyfriars had remarked during that incident, when Athrun had pointed a gun a Greyfriars' head at the very second Greyfriars had reached into his coat to take out his own gun.

None of the other men had guns, Athrun knew, because none of them had been expecting to need those today. Surely, he would have been shot dead if anyone had had a gun by now. Still, it was customary for them to carry some weapon of some sort, and those were being brandished in full force now.

He had taken down half of those who had rushed at him, all while Greyfriars had sat lazily in the corner, watching. As another man attacked from Athrun's back, he snarled, sensing it and whirling around to disembowel the man as the knife the attacker carried came close to Athrun's throat.

Athrun had already put himself into a corner, the corner that Lyra's crumpled body lay in, and it served to his advantage, making it impossible for more than one man to attack him at the same time. But as the remainder of Athrun's consciousness hit him full force, Athrun realised he was fainting.

It wasn't so much the exertion of energy. It was the realisation that no matter how many more he killed in revenge, Lyra was not going to live again.

And because that thought made him more incensed than ever, he knew he had to finish them off and get out quickly before he lost consciousness.

As he crouched, putting himself into a defensive stance, ignoring the punishment his body was taking, he slashed wildly into the next person who got too near him and Lyra. The blood sprayed against him and the man he had stabbed squealed like a pig on the spit.

"Do you think you can kill all these men?" Greyfriars voice rang out, directly opposite in the other diagonal corner of the room. They were like two men playing chess- one attacking, the other defending and launching his own attacks, both making different sacrifices. The difference was that all the men between Athrun and Greyfriars were Greyfriar's pawns. Athrun had none. He had never had anything to sacrifice except himself.

Athrun looked grimly at him but said nothing. The knife was tight in his hands, and it was stained with blood, freshly drawn from the heart of another. "They must pay for killing her."

Greyfriars stood up, waving aside the men who were still circling Athrun. As they cleared the path, Athrun looked at them warily, and Greyfriars began to move closer, taking measured steps.

With his salt and pepper hair, it was almost incongruent that Greyfriars had a trim physique and a disciplined, strong face. His eyes were an unusual shade of blue- turquoise, even, and rather telling of his Coordinator heritage. He walked with a slight limp, but his eyes told one that he could not be underestimated.

His voice was toneless and quiet, although it rang in the still room. "You always astound me, Estragon. Look at you! You, with your pianist's hands, your handsome face- you look like a man of fine upbringing, which is probably true. You deal with our money, and you've made so much more for us, because of that brilliant mind you have."

Greyfriars clucked his tongue patronisingly, but the effect was disturbing still. "I trusted you- and I still do. You have no feelings, you have no conscience, and yet, you kill like an animal when one insignificant woman is killed."

He walked to the semi-circumference of bodies that lay around Athrun, demarcating the line other men had tried to step across to reach Athrun. As it was, Athrun stood before Lyra's body. Subconciously, he was protecting it although there was nothing about his expression that suggested he was grieved by her death.

Greyfriars surveyed the bodies, clucking his tongue at those who were still alive, groaning in suffering and those whose throats had been slit or had suffered similar fatal injuries.

"You've worked with these men," Greyfriars observed bemusedly. "You were even been treated well by Charles. He fawned over you- until you decided to take the little kitty he had his eye on as your own mistress. But he still treated you well enough. He let you have her without making much of a fuss, even though he was clearly unhappy about it. And yet, you turned on him for even laying a finger on something you deemed your property."

Athrun looked emotionlessly at Greyfriars, feeling that numb gush of grief and shock at hearing Greyfriars refer to Lyra as a thing and not a person. But none of this ever registered on Athrun's face.

The other men were murmuring amongst themselves, some still holding their weapons as if preparing for the moment when Greyfriars would allow them to resume their attacks. For now, their leader showed no sign of this, as he stepped calmly across the bodies, watching Athrun, whom he knew only as Rune Estragon, one of his right-hand men.

"At least though-," Greyfriars barked a short laugh, "You have reminded me of how useful you are- how you can kill without question when any person oversteps his boundaries with you. You are a dangerous beast, Estragon, and I admire that quality in you."

If anyone had ever seen Athrun Zala before, they would not have known it was this man, he with his blank eyes and the white, empty face which so devoid of anything remotely human. His voice was very controlled, but it spoke of his throbbing anger. "She was my woman. It didn't matter if I loved her or not- nobody had the right to kill her except me."

"Which you did," Greyfriars reminded him. He pointed to what lay behind Athrun that Athrun stood some distance in front of, not looking at it. Looking at Lyra again would make him lose his senses. "You delivered the last blow she could take."

"Only to prove," Athrun said through gritted teeth, "That if she had to die, I was the one who had to kill her."

"And she deserved to," One man called out. "She was spying on us. That little bint was keeping contact with my woman from the brothel, and she found out what we were up to."

Greyfriars held up a hand, shushing the twenty to thirty men in the room. His voice raised slightly in assertion of his authority. "Silence."

He turned back to Athrun, who was as still as a statue and his face unreadable and blank. Greyfriars smiled, almost benevolently except for that insane light in his eyes. He took out a cigarette and lit it easily, puffing on it and sighing in contentment while Athrun watched steely.

"These men you took down-," Greyfriars gestured negligently at the groaning injured men and those who had been killed, "Are sufficient payment for the lack of respect you suffered. I give you that, Estragon, because I know men like you and I cannot accept idiocy and disrespect."

Athrun's glare was the only answer he got.

"Put in another way, Greyfriars admitted, "I allowed this fight to go on for much longer than was necessary because I wanted to see how long you could last. And you've impressed me. You always do, which is why I give you so much berth."

The disgruntled murmuring from the other men who whispered amongst themselves was halted by Greyfriars holding up his hand again, the way a judge would have banged on the gavel.

"But I can give you no more than that, Estragon. These men plan to die for other reasons. They will sacrifice their lives for their loved ones who were taken away from them. But they should not die because they foolishly act in the anger they feel now at your retaliation at Purcell's act, which really, was done in the best interests of the group."

"And that is why," Greyfriars said, raising his voice confidently, thumping his walking stick on the ground, "I will not allow anyone here to attack Rune Estragon any further. I would rather you live," He said pointedly to Athrun. "Because you're more valuable that way."

He turned to the men who were visibly disappointed at Greyfriars' reluctance to let Rune Estragon be taken down. "And I would rather my brothers use the rest of their lives seeking revenge on those who killed your families then on some petty internal squabble."

"But Purcell didn't deserve to die," One man pointed out rashly. Athrun turned his eyes on the man who had spoken, and the person immediately shrank.

"If Charles had not been so indiscreet with his mistress," Greyfriars continued blithely, walking over and kicking the still-warm body, "Estragon's mistress would not have gotten information from her friend either. Brothel girls tend to tell each other things they hear from their men, and Charles Purcell and Rune Estragon's mistresses were not very different."

"Of course," Greyfrairs said in a quieter voice, turning to look at Athrun, "I suppose your mistress was curious at why you kept away from her and only visited once in a while." He sighed, kicking the corpse again as if to verify that his right-hand man was indeed dead. "Charles was very useful to me, you know. I'm going to have to make you do more work for me, now that you've killed him."

Athrun's eyes narrowed, following Greyfriars as he limped past the line of slaughter Athrun was personally responsible for. "The only person who had the right to deal with Lyra Delphius was me. But without asking me, without getting my permission first, Charles poisoned her. He needed to be punished."

"And you did." Greyfrairs conceded. He paused before passing Athrun to take a look at the dead Lyra, smiling graciously, almost mockingly. "Have you spent all your rage now? Are you ready to pledge allegiance to these men and myself again, after killing more than a few of my men?"

There were angry mutters and clear derision from the men, who were still standing tensely. When Athrun had entered the room, he had not seen all of them, only because he was intent on reaching what he realised to be Lyra in a corner. He had strode to her as she had lay there, gasping and wheezing, turning her grey eyes on him. Her lips had been chalk white, and he knew she was fighting back the screams of pain that bubbled from her throat as strangled sounds of agony.

The moments after that were foreign and blurred in Athrun's mind.

All he knew was that the men had leapt to try and attack him. That had been when Athrun had turned away from Lyra, looked at all the men, seen Purcell who had stepped forward, smiling like the fool he was, and then shot Lyra's murderer straight in the head. Even when the bullet had sunk into his skull, Purcell hadn't realised that Athrun had not done it to impress them and to join in her murder, but that Athrun had done it out of mercy.

Purcell's brains were still patterned on the carpet in a gloppy, unsightly mess, a glassy eyeball somewhere near Greyfriar's feet. As he looked at the men however, Athrun knew they were still bristling with rage at his turning on Purcell right after Athrun had shot a dying Lyra in her chest.

Athrun closed his eyes, fighting back all his emotions. If only they knew how Lyra had looked every time they were together- how her eyes begged him to be honest with her, how she had never cried in front of him except that one time when he had bought her freedom. If only they knew how much more she was worth than all these bastards put together-

But in that moment, Athrun betrayed everything that still lived in him because he could not afford to betray himself and all those who needed him.

"I will pledge my allegiance, because I have always been thinking of this group's best interests." Athrun said calmly. "But I will not apologise for the injuries or deaths I have caused."

At the precise moment went he said this, he knew that a little more of him had died with Lyra. The men began to shout in protest, but Greyfriars held up a hand, silencing them all again.

"Fair enough," Greyfriars shrugged. "I suppose you had a right to take revenge on those who did not respect your ownership of the girl. And I suppose she served you well enough. Otherwise, you wouldn't have bothered reminding us all of what we can interfere with and what we can't."

Athrun turned, not really looking at Lyra's peaceful expression because he could not afford to break down here. He began to walk towards her body, picking it up without sparing it a glance. Then he turned back, facing Greyfriars and the men who stood behind their leader.

As he turned, there was nothing to suggest affection or sorrow in his form. He held her as if he would have held something that had been inanimate and non-living from the start.

And Athrun began stepping over those he had taken down. As he did to move out of the room, he counted their bodies. He reached ten, thirteen, fourteen dead ones. He kept his head down, looking at his feet, knowing instinctively where they would lead him.

"Where are you going with that?" One in the room asked incredulously.

"To bury her." Athrun said after a pause. These bastards needed no words from him, but they had to know at least this. "She deserves to be buried for accepting her death and punishment so graciously. The rest-," He looked up, showing his face to all of them, and there was not a single person in the room who did not feel their insides contract with the look on his face.

For Rune Estragon's eyes were cold, and his face without any sign of humanness, his lips twisted in a scornful smile. There was something immensely frightening about how still, how cold this man was, and his voice was without any emotion. "The rest can rot."

Silently, Athrun walked past Greyfrairs, who was still holding a hand up and watching him leave.

Lyra, in Athrun's arms, was limp and still beautiful. Her once-short golden hair now tumbled soft and long , over his elbow, and her flesh, once warm like mead and heady to touch, was becoming cold.

Past the men, past the dead men, out of the door, into another passage way, Athrun walked. He walked, carrying Lyra Delphius, who had only wanted to know him, who had only wanted to understand why he could never open himself to her and why he had left so suddenly that one evening. She had kept contact with Purcell's mistress, who often heard him rambling when he was drunk.

It was precisely through this, that Lyra had learnt enough for Greyfriars' men to realise she was a risk to their objectives. Purcell had realised what was going on and then taken the initiative to track and kill Lyra Delphius, who had conveniently been Rune Estragon's mistress. Being the insecure, egoistic bastard he was, Purcell had always regarded Rune Estragon as a rival for Greyfriar's attention. Rune Estragon's supposed stealing of a brothel girl Purcell had wanted had also been a thorn in Purcell's side, along with the yacht he had lost in a game of cards with Rune Estragon.

With her death however, Athrun's secrets were all safe. Greyfrairs and the other all thought Lyra had searched for information because of her curiosity, but they didn't understand that Lyra had been a spy for Rune Estragon since the time he had taken her as his mistress. He hadn't meant for her to be one, but through time, he had found that information was always put into her hands somehow. It may have been the way she attracted men and women alike to her, and it may have been the way she could gain information from them by making them feel at ease with her light conversation and ready smile. Through time, he relied on her to gain information for him.

Now as Athrun walked, he finally allowed himself to take a look at her. The tiny, tranquil smile on her lips made her look alive, although her body was cold already.

For her, she had died asking silently, why love could never last. As he had watched her draw her last breath, he had asked why that little life had gone so fast.

Four years ago, she had served as his consort, appearing at events, getting information through conversations with the people Athrun wanted her to speak to, finding more about the Danish terrorists from the other asylum-seekers and guests at parties. Lyra was absolutely necessary from a pragmatic point of view, for people were often more willing to talk to a beautiful young woman even in their drunken stupor, than a man as enigmatic and aloof as Rune Estragon.

She had never questioned him or all the things he kept from her, Athrun realised with a pang. This was probably because Lyra had been afraid he would leave her. She had tried to trust him, she had kept out of his way when he didn't want to come to her, and she had never turned him away when he came to her for comfort and that tenderness she always gave him. Even when he was calling her by another's name when they made love, she never questioned him in the morning- never told him to treat her better, never asked him why he had to hurt her like that.

And he had left her still.

As the yacht travelled over the water, Athrun sat facing the sea, Lyra cradled in his arms still. They were reaching the Fifth Isle soon, and he would bring her to the place where she had always loved. Those flowers she had grown still bloomed, and years ago, he had taken the offshoots and placed them in the gardens in his own manor. Those were finer than anything he had ever seen, and the cuttings were very good too.

Her death was not his fault. She had continued questioning and trying to find out more than what was good for her even after Athrun had left, hoping he would keep her safe that way. Her own need to know had killed her.

"But it isn't fair," Athrun said softly, looking at the still, lifeless woman, "That you never blamed me."

Purcell had done more than punish his mistress- he had gone and poisoned Lyra, informing Rune Estragon to come and watch a traitor being punished. By the time Athrun had reached the un-numbered Isle that the Danish terrorists inhabited, Athrun had been too late.

He had entered their stronghold, watched as Lyra had laid there dying, choking and gasping, but holding back all her tears. Watching her and the questions that nobody would ever answer surface in her eyes had made Athrun do what he did.

He had shot her in her chest, keeping all their secrets, keeping her dignity, giving her the last mercy she would ever be shown. Blocked from the rest, Lyra had smiled once the shadow the crouching Athrun had cast over her, and he had seen relief and gratefulness in her eyes. She would never understand how or why she had died, but a part of Athrun wanted Lyra to blame him as she died. It was only fair that she hate him for his using her, but she had only looked at him with that tender, melancholic love and trust, and that had made him lose his sanity.

Naturally, Athrun hadn't been able to prevent himself from turning on a manically laughing Purcell, who had been telling the others present that Rune Estragon was teaching her a lesson too.

As he moved slowly to the Cliffside, Athrun laid Lyra in the midst of the tall grasses and flowers. He knelt down in the grass as well, looking at her and caressing her face for the final time. She looked very different from Cagalli, he realise, nor could not begrudge her that. In this light, in his soberness, Lyra's face had a secrecy that Cagalli's could never quite hold, and her face was oval, not heart-shaped. Her mouth too, even in its most beautiful smile, was enigmatic rather than bright and lovely. She was not child-like, but sophisticated and elegant.

He had come to realise this a long time ago, but even now, Athrun had to admit that she was entirely different from Cagalli. And because she had seen what he had come to terms with in his eyes when he had shot her, she had died with nothing but love for him. His growing inability to use her as a replacement for another that he loved had put a distance between them both, but it had been the best thing he could have given her, as Lyra had once told him.

With his bare hands, he began to dig, not caring that there were better tools if he could fetch them, not caring that his hands and his knees would be dirtied. They could not be dirtied more than they were, and the soil would not add to the filth but cleanse his hands.

Her voice echoed in the wind and in his memory- what she had said when he had apologised to her before leaving. Her voice had been quiet, sad but accepting at the same time. "At least, you're leaving me because I am my own person, even if I cannot be another person that you love."

He dug for as long as it took, and the clouds swelled with the growing evening, orange and pink, then dark blue and grey as the humidity increased and the rain bean to patter softly. The grasses bowed wistfully to the wind, the butterflies disappearing into the sweet air, and the cricket song becoming faint with the howls of the approaching winds. The grave was ready.

At the Cliffside, only the flowers that would eventually grow over the soil would ever know how Athrun's tears fell silently, raining over the woman he had taken and ruined.

* * *

On the other side of the sizeable pond's banks, the hydrangeas might have hidden the boy, but the brilliant bursts of colours and the palette of intense aubergines, cyan and lush pinks could not hide the mop of milky, Darjeeling-tea coloured hair.

Besides, there was laughter in the air, and birdsong had not masked that.

For beyond the thick shrubs on the other side of the pond, there had been a small boy playing with something that shone brilliantly in the garden.

Cagalli had blinked, rubbed her eyes, and stared again.

For an inexplicable reason, she lost her nerve, ran a distance to the main entrance of the gardens, and sprinted in the corridor until she found Epstein, who had been walking along another corridor.

"There's a child in the gardens!" She had said in the same voice of disbelief.

Gazing at her flushed face and hearing Cagalli's breathless, somewhat disjointed explanation of what she had seen in the gardens, Epstein had laughed, leading her back there.

At this point in time, Epstein nodded, encouraging her as he led her past the opposite bank and through the pathway of hydrangeas and dog-roses. The light was blinding as it darted through the glass ceiling in this giant, indoor gardens, and she could not see everything in the white light and from the distance she stood at.

Nevertheless, she saw that the child come into view, and his voice and laughter seemed to ring even clearer in the gardens.

Her feet were frozen in her tracks, and she wondered if she was hallucinating.

The child had somehow been joined by a puppy, and together, they were play-wrestling and frolicking in the long grasses that were dotted with tiny white and yellow flowers.

"I see a child and a dog." She said in wonder.

Epstein, at her side, chuckled.

"Your eyesight's fine." He said casually, leading her forward by her elbow while she tripped along, still stunned to see a child here in a place that she and Epstein usually visited alone. The new presence of this little stranger here made her feel uneasy, and she realized that she had been already familiarized with the place to feel threatened with another person here.

"Ko here," Epstein informed her, because she was speechless, "Is Kitani Harumi's child. I'm his foster father."

"What?" Her shock must have been obvious with all he had said, but Epstein blithely ignored it.

"Come. I'll introduce you to him."

"Ko!" He called out. The child, who had turned his back momentarily to do something, looked up at that point. Catching sight of Epstein, he waved.

He was smiling widely, his eyes as dark as coal in a very fair face, and his mouth parted as he shouted Epstein's name in his excitement. The puppy ran a circle around Ko in its enthusiasm, and the boy nearly tripped but managed to run towards Epstein. They were no longer three meters apart, Cagalli thought with wonder, but she was staring at this real boy now.

"Why didn't you come with Mr. Estragon and me the other time?" Ko said reproachfully, looking up at Epstein. "Were you so busy that you couldn't come too? It would have been better if you came fishing with us- he even said so himself. I caught a big fish-," He waved his arms madly, probably exaggerating about the catch which seemed to be a whale by measurements he provided. "But you weren't there to see it!"

"I'll explain later, Ko." Epstein promised indulgently. "But first, I'd like you to meet a friend of Mr. Estragon's."

Epstein began kneeling to the child's level, bringing him to face Cagalli. The boy was already staring at Cagalli with an expression of great interest, and Cagalli bent down as well, still stunned and a bit dazed. She was aware that the child was rather small if she had guessed his age to be less than ten.

Epstein had put his arm around the child, effectually shielding half his body because the boy was of small build. And next to the child, Epstein looked very much like an elder brother.

Strange, Cagalli thought, that a child was wearing gloves at this age and in a form-fitting long-sleeved shirt and pants. There was something clearly unlike any child that this boy had- the tilt of his head, the inquiring eyes that had an aged wisdom to it, and a lethal grace he moved with. It reminded her of someone, although she couldn't think of who it was.

Now, his puppy immediately raised its hackles, growling, until Ko shushed it with an indignant cry. "Pepita!"

The puppy looked woebegone as it sat on its haunches, wagging its tail still, unable to contain its excitement. It still vibrated like a slinky even while sitting, and Cagalli had to laugh. The child stared up at her with his large jet eyes, but his hair color was like with milk coffee. A little English prince, this boy seemed to be.

"Pleased to meet you, Ko." Cagalli said shyly, feeling as if she had been the intruder in his gardens. And perhaps, she reflected, she was the stranger and not this child, who seemed so at ease with everything around him "And Pepita too."

She held a hand out tentatively, letting the puppy sniff it then lick it in obvious approval of her. Laughing now, Cagalli patted it, and it began to vibrate even more happily, making a small whining sound.

"Who is she?" The boy said delightedly to Epstein, obviously pleased by Cagalli's respect towards his pet. Because they were all the same height now, he was able to look directly at Cagalli and particularly at her hair. He was staring as if he had never seen this kind of hair colour before, she realised, and his eyes were so wide she could see her reflection in those.

"This is Cagalli Yula Atha," Epstein announced, ruffling Ko's hair. "She's a princess, Ko. Maybe you should address her with her title. It would only be polite, yes?"

"Just like in the story books?" Ko said innocently and fighting back the questions that must have been sitting on the tip of his tongue. "So you live in a castle then, Ma'am?"

"Not exactly," She said smilingly, feeling his tiny hands reach out to touch hers, as if he was confirming that princesses were human too. "Just a large house. Not as large as this one, anyway."

Ko took another step closer, and Epstein was forced to take his arm away from around the boy. As he stepped nearer to Cagalli, who was still crouching down, she got a better look at the child.

But then, the boy bowed politely. When he straightened up, the child stared at her with a similar expression- curiosity but something like a very mature pride in his face.

"Your surname is Kitani isn't it?" She said softly. "And you are Kitani Harumi's son."

He looked stricken and looked at Epstein, who nodded to reassure him. Clearly, he had been instructed to keep both his name and his mother's identity known to only a select few people.

"Yes," He said hesitantly. "But I am called Kaye Humbert on The Isle. And my mother tells me to use that name."

She nodded, understanding. "I'm Cagalli."

"She's Mr. Estragon's confidante." Epstein added, for Ko's benefit, even as Cagalli smiled ruefully.

"So Cathy and Lacy know her and know that she is Mr. Estragon's confidante?" The child said excitedly, beaming at the prospects of having a new playmate.

Cagalli stared at Epstein. It was certain too, that the maids were too young to even understand or suspect what could be possibly happening between their master and her. They behaved normally with her and showed little understanding or suspicion of why Athrun's shirt was sometimes borrowed and found in her room. But there was no mistake that Epstein understood something of her relationship with their master even if only partially.

"Mr. Estragon and Cagalli here are good friends." Epstein said vaguely. He was obviously trying to put the relationship in a child-friendly context. "Naturally, the twins know her."

Cagalli felt slightly uncomfortable but held her tongue.

"Really?" Ko said innocently. He continued to stare at her, not rudely, mind you, but so diligently that she wondered if he was sketching her face in his mind. That slightly comical intentness about him made her feel less threatened now, and Cagalli grinned at him.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked a bit meekly, not knowing why she was so careful with this child. But it seemed that with every new person she met, she was expecting to know less and less of them.

"No, ma'am," Ko returned fearlessly, with that childlike curiousness but without the mischief children usually carried. What an unusual boy, Cagalli thought in wonder. There was something solemn about him, despite his innocence.

Now, he smiled trustingly at her. "But studying people's faces allows me to know a little of them. And you're very pretty."

She reciprocated with her own smile, feeling a bit embarrassed. "As I said before, just call me Cagalli. And thank you for saying that- you're very kind."

The boy laughed a bright, happy sound. "I saw you a while ago here, painting by the pond, but I was afraid to approach, because Mr. Estragon and Epstein tell me to avoid people I have never seen before. So I didn't dare to come by. But your painting's very good," He added quickly, as if afraid she would think he didn't come by because he didn't think she was painting anything worth seeing. And he gazed at her intently, "I like it."

"I keep telling her the same," Epstein added in.

Cagalli grinned, inclining her head a little. "Thank you, but I don't think it's anything more than a mess of colours."

"No," Ko protested eagerly. He grabbed her hand and tugged her along, making her run a little as Epstein stood where he was, watching them both with a tender expression in his face. Pepita trotted after Ko and Cagalli, looking every inch the faithful guard dog.

"You should try painting these," Ko said cheerfully, gesturing to some magnificent lilies in a lattice in a corner. "Or these-," He pointed to a particularly colourful spray of clematis. "Or even these red clovers-," He trailed off, a little out of breath, Cagalli's hand still tight in his. "Or maybe these yellow flowers-,"

"Um-," She paused, remembering what Epstein had said or rather, not said about this particular section of the garden. She stared at Ko's gloves, wondering if he was wearing these because he gardened. But these were made of leather, and he seemed hardly to have used them for gardening because there was no soil on the tips. Still, Ko seemed very fond of this patch of plants, focusing all his attention to it and recommending those flowers that Epstein had admitted to not planting. "Did you plant these flowers, Ko?"

"Yes," He chirped happily. "Pretty, aren't they? I think they would look nicer if you painted them-," Ko added shyly.

She chuckled, feeling incredibly delirious with how sweet the child was. "I hardly think I can do justice to this patch you've tended so well. These are lovely, Ko."

"Well," The child considered for a moment, "I can't say I did all the work. I didn't grow them from seeds- that's much harder to do if you want good plants. But good cuttings make good plants, and good cuttings must first come from good plants."

"You mean," Cagalli said slowly, "You didn't plant the originals?"

"No," Ko said readily. "Mr. Estragon just gave me some cuttings to do whatever I liked with them. So I planted them here." He looked at her with his bright, innocent eyes. "I could ask him where he got them if you like, Cagalli. I think he would tell me."

And Ko turned, not seeing Cagalli's puzzled expression, but calling out loudly and asking Epstein, "When will Mr. Estragon be back soon? The other time, when he left me on the oth-,"

"Shush," Epstein said causally enough, but Cagalli still caught the warning gaze he had shot to the boy. "Not too soon. Am I such an awful teacher and father that you wish he'd resume teaching you personally, Ko?"

"No!" The child's voice was a worried cry as he ran back and threw himself around Epstein, hugging him in hope of redemption for his mistake at almost revealing something and then for insinuating that Epstein was insufficient. "I didn't mean that, Epstein! I only meant that-"

"I know, I know," Epstein assured him, pinching his cheek lightly. "I was just teasing you. Anyway, I'll be a bit busy so the twins will take over your next few lessons. Have you been practicing what Mr. Estragon taught you before he left?"

Cagalli's eyes darted from Ko to Epstein, and she tried to understand what they were saying. Athrun must have been referring to this boy when he had briefly mentioned Epstein's children at one point. She had thought it surprisingly that such a young man would have children of his own, but it had been possible. Whatever the case, she certainly hadn't considered this possibility.

"Yes." Ko said eagerly. "I've been doing what he told me to do- thumb on the outer edge of the handle-," He demonstrated with air and what looked like a firm grip on an invisible something. It looked very familiar, but she did not recognize it immediately because she was far too disorientated to.

Yet, as Cagalli observed him; and as the child talked a little more and demonstrated what he'd been practicing, she felt her knees going weak as she began to understand.

She stared at the small child as he turned a little more, finally noticing what hung from his side. Now she knew what was familiar about his movements. The child had moved with Athrun's grace, a grace that was probably both natural and inherited from his teacher. The same fluid motions Cagalli had seen Athrun use against her a long time ago had already been taught to Ko.

The child had not been playing with a mirror or a piece of glass when Cagalli had first spotted him. He had been practicing his blade-skills.

A knife- sheathed now, but a knife nevertheless- was hanging from Ko's side, fastened to his belt. So it was, Cagalli thought briefly, that Athrun had been teaching this child how to fend for himself, and possibly, something more sinister. She thought of the twins and the way they pared apples and felt a chill settle into her.

Unaware of her thoughts, Ko looked at her and smiled trustingly. "When did Miss Cagalli meet Mr. Estragon?"

She jolted to attention. "Oh. A long time ago- he demonstrated some of that skill-," Cagalli gestured helplessly at Ko's blade, "To me."

Entirely ignorant of their first meeting whereby Athrun had tried to slit her throat, Ko beamed with excitement. "He's super, isn't he?"

Smiling but with some suspicion, Cagalli asked, "Do you enjoy the lessons?"

"Of course!" The boy piped up innocently. He spoke in exclamations, making Epstein smile. "He moves so quickly! It's incredible! Even my mother can't move as quickly as him, although she's probably better with a sword. But she won't teach me yet, she says, not until I learn the basics from Mr. Estragon. Epstein here," He looked loyally and adoringly at Epstein, who looked somewhat embarrassed, "Is good too. Cathy and Lacy have already learnt those, so he teaches them the more complex skills."

"Cartesia and Laplacia," Epstein translated for Cagalli. He grinned. "Ko can't pronounce their names easily."

"He's a really good teacher." Ko rattled on, not noticing the private conversation between the adults. "He gave me Pepita here when I learnt how to throw knives properly the other time." The puppy was still sitting on the ground, watching her master with adoring eyes and a pink tongue lolling from its mouth.

Then Ko's eyes grew wide as a thought struck him. And quickly, he tugged at Cagalli's sleeve.

"Does Mr. Estragon teach you how to use the knife too?" He looked at her demandingly, as if afraid that she would prove to be a better student than him.

She stared at the boy, understanding why he wore gloves now. And she swallowed, looking at Epstein, who looked considerably pained.

"No," Cagalli said tensely.

And it all made sense suddenly. The twins were strong enough to lift heavy wardrobes; Epstein good at reading people's thoughts, and this boy wearing gloves was learning how to use a knife.

Athrun was more than their senior and superior. He was their instructor and he was teaching them what had made him one of the top soldiers in Zaft all those years ago.

Biting her lips and feeling a chill run through her, Cagalli stared at both of them. Athrun was teaching his wards and even this boy how to kill.

* * *

Five evenings later, Athrun returned to the Manor once more.

In fact, Cagalli had simply not known of Athrun's return only until she'd grown bored of painting and returned to her room. There, she had found the parcel, laid out on her vanity. While she had found nobody there, the parcel had been a keen indication of who it was from. Unwrapping it, Cagalli had found an exquisite, mint-coloured dress with a hem that would barely graze her knees. On her vanity, fan-shaped, elongated mother-of-pearl earrings in platinum from the cat-trinket box had been set out.

Her daily attire of choice was often a simple blouse and shorts, for Cagalli had blithely ignored the dresses she could have had her pick from. Even the dainty looking heels did not sway her choice of the simplest bare of ballet pumps, and in the garden, even those comparatively sensible shoes had been discarded. Mere hours ago, Cagalli had sat bare-footed while painting in the garden, enjoying the gauzy grass brushing against her soles.

Now though, someone had given her this dress and picked out gems for her to wear. Certainly, it had not been the maids, who would have stayed and waited for Cagalli to return to help her into it.

With a slight frown, Cagalli looked at the soft, yielding material in her hands and thought of her work attire, which she had grown comfortable in for those years and even yearned for. The uniform she had established over the years beyond the actual military uniform would have served her well here, she thought ruefully, structured, stiff and even somewhat bulky. That way, Cagalli would have actually felt better equipped to make deals with Athrun than the clothes supplied to her here.

Even the non-uniform work suits had been simple to choose in the morning, what with her rolling out of bed, cursing at the clock, running to shower and wash up, and then grabbing a fixed suit set. The process was short, sharp, and miraculously simple if she did not mix the six different sets up. She never had.

For to prevent that, Cagalli had written numbers on the hangers, then written corresponding numbers on the hidden tags of the corresponding pieces, and arranged her outfits almost mechanically. All she had to do was to remember if she had worn 'set two' last Tuesday if she was about to grab it and it happened to be a Tuesday.

What she had been used to was unlike this fussy, funny business Athrun had put her into. Of course, that wasn't really it either, since the maids usually did the picking out of things and she did the wearing without asking questions. But the whole motion of putting on a dress, wearing pearls and perfume and pretty shoes, even if those had been selected for her, then waiting for something to happen, made her feel quite helpless. That helplessness translated to her stammering and stalling in front of Athrun, and it infuriated her.

She gazed at the dress she spread over the bed, frowning a little.

The clear feminity to her daily attire disconcerted her, let alone this gift. Was her accepting and wearing it to be a price for his sending a letter she had yet to write? And why this dress?

While Cagalli privately thought Athrun's taste was impeccable and the dresses surprisingly light-weight and comfortable, she did not like the fact that he had picked out everything from her accessories to her underwear. It was frankly disturbing that he, as a man, had single-handedly decided what would be in that massive wardrobe of hers.

Drying her hair while still sitting on the bed and deciding what to do, Cagalli bit her lip.

It embarrassed her each time Cagalli wore the clothes. Certainly, he must have picked this or that out and decided it would fit by imagining her in it. Back in Orb, she fumed, nobody had gotten past her estate gates or office door without clearing about a hundred different high-tech security checks. And there he was, getting into her wardrobe by picking out clothes and more for her without _her _final say!

While she was perfectly aware that Athrun could not bring her out of the Manor and to the nearest mall, Cagalli was upset that he even had a say in what she wore. While her say back at home had been a limited one ever since she'd created work uniforms beyond the official uniform, she was still insistent about wanting her say.

Of course, Cagalli appreciated the maids' efforts to pamper her. Admittedly, she did enjoy it to some extent, what with the way she could speak to them and watch them all in the mirror as they shared girlish secrets about their favourite colours and scents. She liked that aspect of the pampering, and she liked pampering the twins by insisting that they paint their nails and used whatever they fancied. They were often resistant and denied wanting to, but Cagalli knew better. She was female, after all.

She stood up, taking a few steps back to secretly admire the gorgeous material and lovely delicate quality of the dress that lay light like sea-foam, against her bed.

But she did not like feeling helpless, Cagalli reminded herself fiercely.

She was not the young girl she had been once, her hair braided and adorned with flowers. She did not like being that princess the fairytales had featured. The twins' attention made her feel like a weakling, and she resented that.

Moreover, she could not snap and tell the twins to leave her to do her own nails and hair if she ever dreamt of spending more than five minutes on both. That irritated her, because she would have certainly not hesitated to let rip in Orb. She had done that a few times, when some lousy make-up assistant wanted to primp her up for some media appearance. Of course, Aaron had begged her to let them have their way and she had relented for his sake.

Here, Cagalli felt morally obliged to be gentle to the twins for fear of hurting their feelings. And that made her feel displaced, which she certainly resented. Ultimately, while she was not adverse to the gold-star standard of first-class hotel treatment, Cagalli did not like the darned feeling that she did not call the darned shots in this darned place.

Wondering if she could disobey the clear intention that Athrun had set out along with this parcel, Cagalli strode to her closet, yanking open the door, quite prepared to take out any dress that wasn't the one he had given.

But something in her face the vanity mirror reflected- her eyes, in fact- certified that Cagalli was only stalling. The variety of colours behind the wooden doors was opposite to what she was used to, and it reminded her that here, nothing was quite the same.

Striding around in either a uniform on the important days, or different variations and colours of the same pant-suit, Cagalli had preferred skirts only on the days when the media was allowed to the office or if she had one of those blasted dinner-dates after work. Still, those skirts were clearly and inevitably suit-skirts, comparatively long when she stood next to the other females and ending right above the knees but at a respectable area of her legs. She had one suit in black for the meeting-days, grey for the normal days, light-grey for the days she couldn't care less, navy for the normal-but-slightly-more-cheerful days, cream for the media days because Aaron swore they made her look less imposing, and off-black for Saturdays, when not many people were back in the office.

Here, Cagalli thought as she studied the dresses, she was forced to desert the power of masculinity she had wielded against unsuspecting people.

Her blouses back home were mostly white in different textures, but still plain and business-like. The jackets were tailored simply to accentuate the imposing impression they gave. While austere, those were well-cut to do her justice. In and of themselves, her suits were first-class even if bland, really.

Here, even the blouses were silk. Even the simplest white ones had pearls for buttons, and some were sheer; sure to move like a second skin against her even if those could be buttoned to the throat. And the prim, turtlenecks would still cling to her quite clearly because he hadn't supplied her some kind of jacket or vest, or allowed her to bind herself.

She glared at the blouses, averting her eyes. He'd even set out shoes that he'd selected for her.

In the office, she had only worn heels to add height and stature, aware that it made others take notice of her when she marched around, asking for things to be done more efficiently, the latest reports to be re-edited because of glaring errors- things like that.

Despite the simple austerity, the entire effect made her look positively tall when she was not really of an outstanding height. But even those had been sensible two-and-half inches, not thick but not paper thin stilettos either, and with the toes covered in a combination between the Mary-Jane roundedness and the crocodile shape that would have elongated her feet too much to do justice to their small, dainty shapes. Next to any man, Cagalli would hold her ground easily and with minimal effort. And dear Lord, she needed that as the chief of the office and Orb's key leader.

But here, the heels would only emphasise feminity with everything that existed in her pre-arranged wardrobe.

"Why am I always so unlucky?" Cagalli fumed to herself.

Next to the less important female officials in office skirts of more suggestive lengths, she had been a stark figure. The schooldays seemed to be repeating themselves all over again, except this time, they were all women and Cagalli did not have the luxury or impetus of parting her jacket or military coat to reveal a feminine 'gap', as the girls had called it. With the parting of stiff, well-structured coats, the women in the office often revealed flirtier dresses or soft-coloured silks beneath their uniforms. She however, wasn't one of those women who answered to a superior- she was the one who represented and wielded power. She didn't need company, didn't need a lover, didn't need a dog- didn't need _anything _or _anyone_.

But she couldn't assert her authority here even with her choice of clothes. And certainly not with Athrun, Cagalli thought embarrassedly. Even taking the backdoor route and trying to establish some kind of upper hand by using the feminine 'gap' was difficult.

After all, it was virtually impossible to surprise Athrun with some kind of tarty dress, Cagalli thought glumly, seeing that he knew everything she might have possibly worn, seeing as he had supplied it. Maybe, his giving her a new dress was even his way of telling her that she could pull no surprises on him.

Besides, Cagalli reflected with a heavy sigh, he wasn't around enough for her to pull that on him. So really, for all her impulsiveness and desire to rebel and tell him to screw off if he wanted her to feel weak and displaced in a dress, Cagalli found herself getting into it.

And as she did, she was aware that her appearance and attitude were undergoing a significant change. This was different; this contact of cloth with her skin. He had selected this above all that he already had, and she could almost feel the way his fingers must have ran against the cloth, deciding if it would feel correct against someone else's skin.

This was a gift that Athrun had specifically chosen for her and she had no right to refuse it.

More accurately, Cagalli had no right to refuse him.

With a heart that seemed to thump in her throat, she had taken a bath, put everything on with a little make-up, and then moved to the dining room. To her, the presence of the new dress and the gems had made it obvious that Athrun would be present at dinner, and he certainly had been.

Eager to meet him even before that, Cagalli strode to her room's passageway and tried to tug the door open. But in doing so, she found it locked.

She knocked on it, feeling foolish, knowing that Athrun was unlikely to be hanging around in the passageway and not his room.

A bit flustered but not deterred, she found a bobby pin from somewhere, and began to pick at the lock. Her friends in school had taught her this neat little trick, and so many years later, it was coming into use.

As the door clicked upon, Cagalli quickly pattered in, not stopping to consider what he would say if he realised she had barged into his room without an invitation. Still, she opened his door after a slight knock and found no reply.

With baited breath, she pulled open the door and scanned her eyes around. But there was nobody.

Disappointed, Cagalli exhaled heavily, and began to walk around the place. As she moved towards his bed, staring morosely at it, she heard a panting sound from somewhere, and immediately, she looked around, trying to locate its source.

Soon, she realised where Athrun had to be, and without care for her attire, she sprinted to his bathroom, only halting when she reached the door. A logical thought struck her. What if Athrun was merely doing some kind of swimming exercise in his oversized bathtub? If she barged in like this, he would certainly jump out of his skin and curse at her.

Blushing, Cagalli found a crack in the door and peeked through it, wondering what he was up to.

She could see his hand, its palm facing upwards and his arm, white and almost ghostly through the steam. There was a faint, soft sound, low and comforting, and with a start, Cagalli realised he was humming very quietly. There was no fixed tune and he might have even been murmuring something, and the echoes were ghostly and haunting in the silence.

It seemed that he must have been in the water, half-dreaming to himself, and that watching him was part of a dream she was subsumed in too.

He wasn't moving, and it was obvious to her that Athrun must have leaned against the side of the pool-like bath and was resting there. But as she prepared to leave it at that, the arm moved, taking the hand away from where she had seen it. Cagalli heard no sound of his body submerging into the water, but the humming stopped gradually.

Curiously, she tried to stare, but could find no way of getting a better view. And it seemed that Athrun had probably moved into the water. She held her breath, trying to imagine herself being submerged too. Soon, she had to start breathing again, but it seemed like forever that Athrun remained underwater, with no need to breathe above it. He was probably training his ability to hold his breath under water, Cagalli thought briefly. Probably.

But as she waited, counting the seconds, she began to feel a twinge of worry.

No splash of emergence, no panting, no washing sounds, nothing. Had more than a minute passed already?

It was dead silent. And casting all inhibition aside and throwing caution to the winds, Cagalli pulled open the door and came face to face with Athrun, lying backwards so his back was half-resting, half-floating in the water above the steps. The steam was evaporating with the air she'd let in, and it was clear that he was still in his clothes, including the white, long-sleeved workshirt, one sleeve-rolled up, the other not. There was a bluish-aqua tinge to the water in the light, and his white shirt was drifting like weed around him as his hair was, anchored only by his torso and scalp respectively. Under the warm, flattering lighting, he looked curiously like a wax mannequin, immaculate and non-transmutable.

There was an eerie beauty to his tranquil expression, the water tiny bubbles were clinging to his hair and skin, some dragging their way languorously from his lips, and how his fingers were curved but weightless in the water. He looked like a perfect marionette doll- one that was in slumber and the depths of water and dreams.

"Athrun!"

Crying out in terror, Cagalli ran over to him, kneeling at the sides, stumbling in to try and pull him out by his shoulders, not caring that the water was ruining the dress she had carefully put on. As she tried to pull him out, she stumbled forward and her heel caught in the hem of her new dress, ripping it with an awful sound and the water wet the heels she had matched with the gift.

Cagalli could not have cared less.

"Epstein!" Cagalli screamed. Her voice cut through the air, rendering it to shreds as the sound pierced and echoed through the bathroom. The echoes became ghostly, and the world seemed to become a terrible, heavy mess of water and slowed motion.

She cursed, trying to wade towards Athrun, her voice cracking with fear. "Epstein! Someone, help!"

And hollering for help as loudly as she could, Cagalli pulled and tugged, wading backwards to lift his head out of water, feeling his body float up as she desperately kissed his lips. She began trying to bring air into him without realising that she wasn't even facing him the right way. His face was still perfect, without any human expression on it. It was curiously, really, how peaceful and at ease he seemed it this state of partial death.

To any observer, the entire scene would have been akin to Ophelia's suicide, pale and lifeless, floating in a stream of her own death and madness. Cagalli breathed deeply, trying to calm herself and get to Athrun in time.

She pulled apart his shirt desperately, ripping its buttons from the slots in her panic, trying to locate some kind of wound somewhere that had made him lose consciousness in the water. In her mind, she was still sure that Athrun had come home wounded like before, and he had probably fainted in the bathroom.

But he was cold, more beautiful than she had ever recalled, his skin like marble and milk without wound or gash, his lips slightly blue and parted because she needed him to take her air. Puzzled, she pulled off his shirt completely, still trying to resuscitate him, but found nothing that would have explained his sudden unconsciousness and subsequent sinking into the water.

She inhaled air again, and almost viciously, kissed him and hit his chest hard at the same time.

Then Athrun coughed suddenly, his eyes opening in shock. He coughed again, water spilling from his mouth, and his dazed expression began to clear a little. He mouthed something she could not hear. But Cagalli froze all the same when she thought she knew whose name he had murmured.

Her dress was heavy in the warm bath water, no longer smooth and elegant but ballooning at the sides like a comical cabbage. Her hair was wet because it was at waist-length, and her hands still gripping at his shoulders and face, Cagalli's face crumbled and a tear fell onto his cheek. He would not feel it, she thought distractedly, not when he was already soaked.

Slowly, painfully, he brought a hand up to what must have been an inversion of her face as she gazed over him, touching the side of her damp face.

"Why did you do it?" She whispered. Even in that moment, Cagalli knew, deep inside her, that he had done something so awful- so unspeakable that he had given up all hope.

The water cast lights around them, and how lovely he looked, she thought brokenly, in this soft light. He was a child that had been ejected from the water, raised to air once more, and there was a knowing, pathetic blindness to his sight that made her want to weep.

"Why did you do it?" He asked her back, his voice hoarse with pain.

But then, Epstein burst in with the maids, and Athrun looked towards them while lying backwards in the water, still a bit dazed. As Cagalli parted herself from him and began to pull her way out of the water, feeling utterly miserable, she looked at the aides and saw that they did not understand what had just happened.

The maids were guiding her out of the bathroom while Epstein helped Athrun up, not even checking his master for wounds, just as Cagalli had. Epstein was far too distracted to think that anything untoward his master had happened. In fact, he was staring at Athrun with slight doubt, looking at Cagalli's ripped hem, the obviousness of her missing earring she must have lost in the water, and her shaken expression.

Athrun did not look at her even when she turned her head around as she was being led out.

The maids were bewildered, for she could see it in their mystified expressions. Epstein had not really understood either, since they had probably been alerted to their master's room by her shouting, only to find Athrun and her having a bit of a bath while being fully-dressed.

Cagalli knew that neither Athrun nor Epstein would ask and tell of what had happened.

Nor could Cagalli find the words to tell the aides that their master had tried and almost succeeded in drowning himself.

She was far too shaken to say this; too flustered at what she'd witnessed and experienced, far too broken by what she had heard him mutter.

All she felt was that awful, sinking feeling that now returned to her as she was led, by means of the main entrance and another corridor, back to her room. In her room, she dismissed the maids with a wave of her hand, shaking her head mutely when they tried to dry her. She still could not speak.

Alone, Cagalli tried, with trembling fingers, to peel off the wet, ruined dress and change into something to regain a semblance of normality. The dress Athrun had given her sagged on the floor, miserable and damp, staining the carpet. She had lost an earring too, and with how things were going, it was probably at the base of the bath or even down a pipe by now.

She pulled out a dress, took a look at it, and then discarded it. She reached in again, pulled out another, and then yanked out another before finally settling on the midnight coloured one. With a great deal of effort, Cagalli dried herself and got into the dress, sitting before her vanity and trying to apply some lipstick.

She smudged it because her hands were still trembling, and cursing, she bent closer to the mirror, her shoulders shivering even though it wasn't particularly cold. Tremblingly, she threw aside the tube she was trying to grip, and unsteadily, she swept some things off the table in a fluid motion of desperation.

A cry ripped itself from Cagalli's throat as she looked into the mirror properly, not at her lips or the gargantuan display of will it had taken for her to even hold the lipstick to her mouth.

This time, she looked into her own eyes and the pain in them articulated what she had been unable to verbalise. The woman looking back at her had long, golden hair and a pale face.

It was her, but Athrun had seen Lyra Delphius instead.

* * *

3 months. 0 days.

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	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

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**A/N:** Hello dear readers! Thanks again for keeping with this. For those who have reviewed/PMed me, I hope I've answered your questions. For those who never got a reply, send it again- I might have missed some out. The last chapter got some really cool responses, and I hope this chapter answers them! (as it was always intended) The exciting news is that I got my first flame on fanfic! Sadly, I can't answer to it because there's no email add from the anonymous Yourmostfaithfulreader, so if you still want a response, PM me or something kay? :) I have absolutely no problem with flames whatsoever- those interest me too.

**Special thanks to the ever-consistent reviewers, since I'm always touched by the effort and kindness! :)**

Yume Yamamura, abitofhappinesstoeat, ghijiK, Miriae, cara410, mingarthur, Steshin, Harlee-Queen, Minatsuki, kagomes heart, teddikins, Pantouflesouffle, MesserDarcy, Makoto no Koto, jaja59, AthrunXCagalli (assuming you're the same reviewer as athrunxcagalli), Usako Hoshino, dinah, D.L.S, brownsugarcandy, crimsonbreeze, bebebeyourlove, mehj, asga,catwithbutterflywings,Teca no shinju,annatenshi,athzala,Tatoutattoo, cottongreentea, athrun-n-cagalli, simplicity-o01,shioncagalli2317, cagallifangurl, Blair.C, M.S Sumerashi, missfk21 and YOU (if I happen to miss you out).

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**Questions/ Responses and Answers from the previous chapter:**

1. 'Is this going to end any time soon/have a sequel/become this sequential epic fic that goes on and on? (just wondering)' (teddikins)

_Yes there is an end. I'm not uploading the chapters until the time is right i.e. there are sufficient reviews for the current one. Is there a sequel? No. The end is as good as anyone's guess. (And I mean that literally, because I have five different 'end' chapters and have yet to pick one.) I am working on another Asucaga AU fic in the meantime. Yes, I have finally gone to the dark side whereby knights and princesses exist and all that. In other words, I ran out of theories on why Athrun and Cagalli reacted the way they did to each other in the actual GS/GSD universe while writing the Isle._

2. 'I'm expecting a descent into emo next chapter or an epic confrontation. Either way, there will be smex in the near future. Lol. But really, I hope Cagalli gets her badass moment soon.' (Poignancy)

_PING! PING! PING! Accurate guess on all three. On a purely plot-based reason, Athrun needed to do something drastic for Cagalli to become quite willing to do anything to understand him. She, on the other hand, needed an impetus. Badass moment? Hmm. Does this chapter count? (refer below only if you are old enough. But then, you are already reading an M fic. __**So if you are not prepared for an M fic, don't continue reading**__.)_

3. 'Who is Epstein exactly? Is he having a relationship with Harumi?' (abitofhappinesstoeat)

_No, he is not having a relationship with Harumi. He is scared to death of her._

4. 'Are the people on the Isle good (in the sense of the word, anyway) or bad?' (abitofhappinesstoeat)

_It depends which group you are looking at. And even here, I am assuming we have the same understanding of what 'good' and 'bad' means._

5. 'How many Isles are there anyway? Do they correspond to the number of Eyes? i.e. Each Eye looks after one Isle?' (abitofhappinesstoeat)

_There are nine Isles. They used to correspond to the number of the Eyes. Athrun-Fifth Eye-fifth Isle. Tom Edgeworth-Seventh Eye- seventh Isle, so on and so forth. But again, this isn't necessarily true anymore. *hint hint*_

_  
_6. 'Is Seven really Yzak? Who else is in that superior council that gives the Eyes instructions?' (abitofhappinesstoeat)

_Refer to chapter below. Refer to future chapters. Sorry, can't help you more there._

7. 'Why does Athrun get to leave the Isle as and when he likes? He can go to Japan, Prague, all sorts of places, and even other Isles. What are his special privileges?'

_He gets free air tickets. He charges it to his bosses. Well, some of it anyway. Some trips are for private business, although he is technically not supposed to step out of there for personal reasons. I guess he just doesn't care._

8. 'Is Athrun having a relationship with Harumi?' (brightlywoundbylight)

No _if you mean romantically. Like Epstein, he's scared to death of her. Yes in other ways. (refer to chapter below)_

9.' Lacus has been out of the picture for some time because of her pregnancy. Or does she have a greater role in this?' (pantouflesoufflé)

_No. She doesn't appear much in this story because she doesn't have much of a role in it. Some readers have been doing amazing analysis of the flashbacks that were featured here and there and getting lots of clues out of it. But nope- not in this case._

10. 'You hinted that Kira and Cagalli were on bad terms. Kira clearly feels guilt that he could not do more for his sister. What happened between them?' (pantouflesoufflé)

_They fell out badly during Cagalli's recovery (refer to previous chapters). Kira planned this, but I can't say more. (Refer to future chapters)_

11. 'Does Athrun still love Lyra? I thought Cagalli was the only one for him? *Sulks*' (Minatsuki)

_No. Yes- he thinks so and I think so, and __**I**__ am the author so yes, Athrun thinks so. So don't sulk, dear._

12. 'Did athrun bury lyra in the garden ko showed to cagalli...?' (rizacaga)

_No he did not. Refer to previous chapter._

13. 'Did he love lyra or he just blame his self for her dead ?' (rizcaga)

_Refer to previous answer._

14. 'come to think of it, though i think it's fair enough but the fact is cagalli does'nt love marlin, and in athrun case...well from what u told (in the story) he also does'nt love lyra ...but he cares for her...  
but , his action in the ending this chap make me doubt it...

did he love lyra or he just blame his self for her dead ?  
for me , ill believe (or i want to belive)to the 2nd opinion...  
coz his action is just athrun - ish ^^'...but i wonder if he reacted like that to lyra dead , how if it's cagalli in lyra potition ?' (rizcaga)

_Sorry, I don't get this question and couldn't clarify because I couldn't PM you, seeing you don't have an account. But if you are essentially asking 11, which seems to be the most popular question, the answer is that Athrun did not love Lyra. That was why he could leave her so easily. PM me if you need clarification yup?_

15. I'd thought that as Rune Estragon, not Athrun Zala, he somewhat loved her - more like a sister, not exactly, but sort of. I'd thought that he was more on the side of half-admiring, half-pitying her :P (Yume Yamamura)

_Absolutely._

16. 'Nakakaiyak naman 'to...' (mehj)

_Sorry? _**Warning:** Adult scenes

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Chapter 16

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As Athrun dressed, he knew Epstein was thinking the worst of him. Epstein was standing some distance behind him, watching while Athrun got prepared for dinner. Epstein seemed to want to say something, although he could not quite say it.

After all, they'd seen Cagalli's ripped dress and the fear, confusion and dread in her eyes. Ironically enough, Athrun knew they all had different versions of what really happened. Cagalli thought he'd tried to commit suicide. It was true that he'd tried to drown himself, but he certainly hadn't thought of dying.

On the other hand, Epstein seemed to think that Athrun had tried something funny and Cagalli had turned on him and somehow knocked him out unconsciously.

"Just spit it out." Athrun said quietly, looking at Epstein in the mirror he faced. "I don't want you to have doubts."

"Alright." Epstein said unsurely. "But first, I'd like to ask you something. Is Cagalli your mistress?"

He turned away from the mirror to face Epstein.

"What do you think?" Athrun asked back dully. Taken aback, Epstein stared.

Turning, he looked into the mirror, steadying himself. It would not do to break down now. Time was passing, and all he had been working for would be achieved soon. He only had to wait. If only Cagalli understood everything, he thought with a pang of sadness.

"What happened just now?" Epstein asked hesitantly. "We came because we heard her screaming for help. She was in the water with you, right? And her dress was all ripped. Did something go out of hand-,"

Athrun's expression hardened. "I know what you're thinking. Trust me, I wouldn't ever lay a hand on her that way."

Epstein looked at him mistrustfully.

"Nothing really happened." Athrun said flatly. "We were only fooling around in the bathroom. I slipped and fell into the bath, and pretended to be unconscious. She ripped her dress in the process of trying to drag me out. I thought I'd play along but then she really panicked."

"Oh." Epstein seemed relieved. His expression cleared. "Sorry- I thought,"

"It's fine." Athrun told him. "Doesn't matter."

"Alright." Epstein said more normally. "I'll go down first. Come down soon- dinner's ready."

He traipsed out of the door, putting aside his doubts completely now.

How people changed! Here was the boy he had taught and trained, fiercely protective of Athrun and jealous of other people Athrun was kind towards, now becoming protective of a woman he thought was Athrun's mistress.

Epstein, Athrun realised, had probably been prepared to turn on Athrun if Athrun had told him that he had laid a hand on Cagalli. No wonder that Epstein had sent Cagalli away quite quickly, thinking that the worst had happened even when Athrun was clearly in a weaker position, lying on the floor.

But it was just as well that the aides had separated him from Cagalli, thinking that she was trying to hurt him, or that he had tried to harm her.

A part of him wanted to be left alone, but the other part wanted to be held, to have Cagalli hold him and tell him that it was alright. But that was dangerous. If Athrun allowed that, he was risking more than duty.

That was because Cagalli could never be a faceless, nameless person who provided mere comfort. She was different from anybody else he'd known very briefly.

Each time he had wished to find comfort and some companionship, he had been more intent on receiving it than caring how hollow that comfort was. As a young recruit who had made few close friends and frequently kept to himself, he had been utterly crushed when his father had dismissed his achievements without even sparing a glance and a curt, "I'm busy."

Not knowing what to do with that bitter disappointment, he had wondered along in the hallways. He'd met a senior who'd given him his first sexual experience.

Instinctively, Athrun knew they had been drawn to each other because of their brokenness. That senior had sent her front-line soldier boyfriend off and then promptly found the first male recruit who would have her.

It had happened to be him. And that was reality. They had eventually broken up as simply and as coincidentally as they had met and gotten involved, a few days after she left for the front lines.

Naturally, Athrun had been upset at how cavalier the entire thing was, but then, what else had he been expecting while technically cheating on Lacus?

Besides, the subsequent relationships had trained him to understand that comfort was the point of the relationship. Comfort was always temporary, but comfort was why anyone bothered at all. And while the relationships he had were always temporary, few relationships ever lasted anyway.

The first few experiences of the war outside his training camp had been thoroughly horrific. He had done his job well though, and moved up the ranks quickly. If he was praised, he felt sick because he had seen the look in the men's eyes when he'd shot.

But he wanted his father to acknowledge how hard he was trying to, and that never came. At times the minor bouts of depression always struck him so suddenly. During those times, Athrun had wanted something to distract him, someone to love him despite those he'd killed.

Naturally, the partners he had were all incomplete like him. They were all incomplete and seeking something incomplete as a result. The comfort that followed tended to be temporary and therefore mostly in the form of sex.

The other girls he had gotten together with after the senior had gone off had shown him that. They would hold him tight and stop the nightmares from coming frequently, but that was all the relationship amounted for.

Athrun had never complained. It was contact for a few hours at best, a numbing of his mind for another time at worst. Soon enough, he had trained himself to seek comfort while expecting no more than that.

Back in the barracks, just sitting at a bar-table and drinking alone was good enough to attract the sort who just wanted to kill a few hours. The best pick-up line was really silence.

Each time, he had mostly ignored the girl, and they would eventually end up in bed. Of course, he had found this out entirely by accident. It had seemed that each time he pushed away, the person was drawn nearer.

Yet, Athrun could understand this. It was precisely the same dynamics he had with his father. But back then, it had made sense to go for anything that wanted to be near him- to take what ever some girl was offering and have her warm body assure him that he could still feel and be human.

For those reasons, Athrun had been drawn to Lyra in his loneliness. When he had left Lyra, Athrun had been filled with unfulfilled wanting and torturous desires he could not rid himself of. He had always been filled with those, but at leat Lyra had been there to distract him.

After leaving Lyra, he had refused to take a woman. He'd been left with solitariness and hollow dreams, despite the temptations his body and soul craved.

Even the comfort Lyra had provided failed to fill that hollowness whenever he recalled Cagalli, and Athrun had known that he could not love her. The best thing then, he could have done was to stop lying to both of them.

His leaving her was his acknowledgement that he could not fight his father's curse. Anything he tried to hold would be destroyed, the way his father had destroyed everything dear to him too. It was a curse Athrun had come to terms with by entering a second contract to stay on the Isle indefinitely, until his duties were over.

In retrospect, Athrun thought, he shouldn't have tried to deny that his father was still haunting him.

He moved out of the room, taking slow, tired steps. The corridor extended in semi-darkness before him, and the dust of the broken past seemed to pervade the air.

Even before meeting Lyra, Athrun had been aware that trying to hold onto others would only destroy them and himself. When he had entered the first contract to stay on the Isle to train Epstein Cleamont for three years, Athrun had always known it would not do to grow close to his pupil. But against his better judgement, he had grown close to Epstein, whom he thought of as a son.

Even before Athrun's three years were up and his contract had ended, it was too late. The Numbers had already realised how close he was to Epstein, and had made use of that.

In the second year of Athrun's contract, Epstein was to go off on a dangerous mission by the superiors, whom the Eyes addressed by specific numbers. Simultaneously, twin girls were presented to him, and he was instructed to train them as he had taught Epstein.

By that time, Athrun had grown too close to Epstein to bear the thought of his ward being put in danger. He had been unable to change the Numbers' decision on the twins, but he had certainly changed Epstein's fate.

At that time, Athrun had violently protested, going as far as to threaten abandoning his duties and the Isle if Epstein was sent off. He had done so while knowing that he was what the Numbers needed.

Naturally, they had given in to his request just to make sure he would stay there for another year, as his original contract had stated.

Sanders Gargery, the First Eye, had been sent instead of Epstein. Of course, what had followed after that persisted in Athrun's nightmares and probably more frequently in the Sixth Eye's. Sheba Velasco had been changed by her fiance's death, and Athrun had indirectly caused it.

It was around that time when Athrun had met Lyra. He had not thought of finding happiness and love once more. He had only been thinking of his duties, because his one refusal to perform had caused another's life. For that, Athrun had stayed even when his three years had been up.

He had plunged himself bitterly and whole-heartedly into the work, taking over the First Eye's duties. Athrun had never spoke to Epstein about this, although he was sure that Epstein must have heard from the others Eyes' aides.

And time had passed. Before he knew it, Athrun had spent another year on the Isle and with Lyra when he could afford to see her. As fate would have had it, she turned out to be more useful than he'd ever meant for her to be.

She still kept in contact with some brothel girls, and one of them was often paid to frolic with a man called Charles Purcell, a man who practically worshipped another named Greyfriars.

From what he gathered from Lyra, Athrun knew enough to suspect Cagalli Yula Atha was part of Greyfriars' plans.

Yet, Athrun had shelved those fears, because he was determined not to be reminded of the past anymore. If there was a person he wanted to be tied to and made vulnerable because of, it was certainly not her.

In fact, Athrun had begun to wonder if allowing himself to love Lyra would mend him. She had been a wonderful lover- generous, giving, and always welcoming. She never doubted, even though so much of what she did for him was so questionable.

Out of guilt and the desire to start afresh, Athrun had then thought of trying to make it up to Lyra. His contract had been about to end, and he would have spent three years on the Isle.

But then, he had wound up being reminded that his father's curse was in his blood.

Less than a month after he'd proposed to Lyra and married her in a tiny, forgotten church he'd discovered somewhere on a steep hill, Athrun had been reminded why trying to love Lyra was impossible. That very reason had also been why he could not leave The Isle when all the doors had been open for him.

The Numbers had long known what Athrun Zala's weakness was. His weakness was that humaneness in him- that desire to help others, to show mercy, that infinitely hopeful something that wanted to be accepted completely.

A part of him was perpetually trying to reach out to grasp onto something tangible- something that would love him in return. He could not numb himself to others, despite all he did.

That had been precisely why Athrun Zala had never left the Isle even when he had grown to despise it. That had been why he was so adamant that Epstein Cleamont could not be used in a dangerous mission- he had loved the boy by then.

He loved his aides and particularly Epstein. That love had been enough when the Numbers had told him that Epstein would be new Fifth Eye when Athrun had threatened to leave with his wife. But the Numbers never played with chances. They'd used another trump against him, as if the threat of Epstein becoming the next Fifth Eye wasn't enough.

They knew he still loved Cagalli Yula Atha.

Despite his staying for more than the initial three years, the Numbers had wanted more of him. They knew that Athrun Zala would never leave the Isle if they told him that back on Orb, Cagalli Yula Atha's life was in grave danger. He would stay if told that he could prevent her death. And so, when he had asked to leave, for his duty to end there, they'd told him that her life was in danger.

That vital combination of their information and his existing feelings for Cagalli had made him stay on, year after year until this very day.

They'd done this while knowing that she'd been the very reason why he'd landed up on the Isle.

They'd known that she would be the best way to keep him there.

In that situation, Athrun had been unable to pack up and leave the Isle with Lyra, despite all their plans to live in a house he'd inherited in South France and to start a family. Nor could he return to face Lyra and lie about an indefinite date when he would take them away.

So he had been honest for once. He had returned that evening, apologised to her, and then left. If he had to stay on the Isle and continue killing those who got in his way, he would.

But that evening when he'd left Lyra, he had promised himself that nothing else would make him love. To love was to hurt and be hurt, and he hadn't wanted anymore of that. The net result of the years he'd spent here had been Rune Estragon, the man that Cagalli had met that night on the SS Rafael.

As Athrun entered the dining hall, he saw the aides waiting for him. And he felt so much pain that he had to grit his teeth to keep his composure.

He had not meant to love again- not after loving Cagalli had hurt him so badly. But he had loved Epstein and the twins eventually, and even Ko. When others had used that against him, he'd sworn not to feel again. And certainly not for Cagalli, a person who had wounded him so much in the past.

But he had.

* * *

When Cagalli had finally found enough strength to change out, dry herself and make her way down, dinner had been prepared.

Athrun had already been there, looking very normal and even unnaturally cheerful. Laplacia had just finished laying the utensils, and Epstein was bringing in the dishes now.

Athrun had put on a dark-coloured turtleneck and jet pants for dinner, and it was almost as if everything was normal. Only the way Athrun's eyes flew to her pinned up hair before he proceeded to studiously ignore her, reminded her of what had happened.

Notwithstanding that sense of utter loneliness and isolation that lurked privately in her, Cagalli thought their dinner had been quite enjoyable with Athrun bearing gifts for all of them.

For the twins, there were palm-sized, beautifully-engraved copper bangles, and for Epstein, a handsome new set of bookstands.

Of course, Cagalli had already received her gift and ruined it.

Before she could spare more thought on this, Athrun surprised her by saying to Epstein, "Why don't you bring Ko here?"

The casual mention of the boy made Cagalli quite sure that Athrun knew she had met Ko. Epstein had probably told him. In fact, Cagalli was quite willing to wager that it had been Athrun who had arranged for their meeting.

Whatever the case, Cagalli had no time to decide, for Ko suddenly appeared with Epstein leading him.

The child was looking tentative and a bit sleepy while clutching at a huge armful of freshly-cut flowers in his hands.

Even the training regime could tire such a young child, Cagalli realised. She stole a glance at Athrun, who revealed nothing with his face turned away from hers.

Disappointed, Cagalli looked back at Athrun's ward and saw something infinitely hopeful about Ko's gaze. His skin was very fair and he looked cherubic, having removed his gloves and changed into a blue tunic and three-quarter pants with distinctively nautical references.

Looking at the spray of colour in his hands, Cagalli realised that those were the flowers Ko tended- offshoots of originals that Athrun had given to him from somewhere.

As Cagalli turned back to Athrun, she saw his eyes fall on the flowers. It happened so quickly and passed so suddenly that Cagalli was not sure if it had been her imagination.

But Athrun's eyes had darkened.

Now, Ko looked hesitantly at all of them, particularly Athrun.

Only when Athrun asked casually, "Aren't you glad to see me, Ko?" did the boy shout with joy, throwing the flowers to Cartesia. She promptly and with machine-like efficiency, put those into a vase and set them in the middle of the table.

Ko bounded straight at Athrun, his lovely young face bright with happiness.

Athrun caught him, laughing as the child ran over to where he sat, engulfing him in a hug quite completely.

The affection Cagalli saw in his face made her feel a sharp pain.

Why had the boy been so hesitant to show his joy and his anticipation of Rune Estragon's return, unless Rune Estragon had trained this boy to be aloof and to think thrice before acting?

As she looked towards Athrun, she saw no clear answer. But as she caught Epstein's eye, he did not seem to think anything was abnormal. Thus, Cagalli inferred that Athrun must have taught him the same as well.

Ko, a bit small and struggling to sit on the chair, was nonetheless still overjoyed to be there. His puppy, Pepita, was nowhere in sight, but he plied Athrun or 'Mr. Estragon', with stories of the pet.

Athrun laughed at those tales, and the genuine interest and openness he received the boy with made Cagalli wonder how they could have learnt to respond to a man who blew cold then warm in the next second.

It had seemed almost like Christmas, Cagalli reflected wistfully, what with everyone sitting at the table and unwrapping gifts with laughter clear in the air. Of course, Cagalli had no gift during dinner to unwrap.

Ko and the twins, being young and distracted with their gifts to the point of being obsessed when comparing their things, did not notice. Nor did Epstein comment. With all of them busy with dinner and their gifts, and Cagalli didn't dare to say anything.

It was almost as if Athrun had not pulled himself into the bath, not submerged his own head, and had not almost drowned. Cagalli didn't believe that Athrun was alright. While Athrun had successfully made the atmosphere a lot less tense for the aides, Cagalli had become even more uneasy by it.

He even seemed to enjoy the little that he ate, and that made her sure he was acting, for he had never seemed to express gastronomic pleasures outwardly.

Still, Cagalli knew that even in his current state of mind and how privately shaken he must have been, Athrun would still be a very good actor.

It was then that Cagalli decided that this was the night for her to make another contract with him. She would ask Athrun why he had tried drowning and how he had even sustained his earlier wound.

It was obvious that Athrun was rather drained and he apologetically excused himself once he'd finished his meal.

The aides and Ko did not show disappointment; not even Laplacia, who had even offered to bring him a hot drink that he had politely declined. In fact, she had seemed to expect his refusal. In general, the aides had not seemed to think much of Athrun's weariness.

Thus, Cagalli came to the conclusion that his behaviour must have been typical of his behaviour every time he returned from a trip.

To maintain normality, she joked and talked about everything and nothing with Epstein, the twins and Ko until dinner time was well and truly over.

Yet, the first thing she noticed about her room upon her eventual return was that Athrun had been there. The passageway door was wide open, and he had left a note on her vanity.

Picking it up, Cagalli looked at his distinctive, cursive penmanship. Just those three rather curt words, "The door's unlocked," were enough to set her pulse racing.

The steps were looming before her, past the open passage door. This time, Athrun was the one waiting for her. While he had not paid her overt attention during dinner, he had left an invitation in her room.

And it was not a subtle one too, Cagalli thought, staring at the way the passage door was left entirely open, not just unlocked. With the note, she sensed his insistence that she go to him.

Naturally, she couldn't decline.

Swiftly, Cagalli washed her face, brushing her teeth and readying herself for bed, although what she was really gearing for was a confrontation.

If she had to trade something more to understand Athrun, then so be it. It would be worth it, Cagalli told herself firmly.

Nervously, she reapplied a faint layer of gloss on her lips to protect them from being chapped by the dry night air, and she stripped from the midnight coloured dress she had worn to dinner in favour of a white, silk kimono-robe. She applied a little perfume to her neck and wrists, and then moved through the passageway.

Her pulse was loud enough for her to hear it. Her footsteps beat a separate rhythm from her heart, and the mishmash of those made her feel distinctively sick with nervousness.

Cagalli desperately wanted a legitimate reason to be near him- to touch and comfort him. If she needed a bargain for an opportunity to do that, then by all means, she would strike a bargain.

She knew what information she wanted this time. She wanted to understand him and why he was destroying himself and those around him. Those included the aides who wanted nothing more than his affection and a child who was so in awe of him.

Her footsteps echoed, and her thoughts loomed in the darkness with those sounds. She wanted to know who he had loved, who he still loved. He had seen Lyra Delphius in her, and Cagalli wanted to know why. Above that, Cagalli wanted to know why he valued his life so little.

For all these years, she had written off good-looking men that she was admittedly attracted to. She fantasized about falling in love, actually taking on the dares Aaron threw at her to 'get yourself laid good and proper, never mind about the work for once'.

Still, she never gave herself a chance to get to know them better, never even thinking of getting to know them beyond a superficial, business-related level at all. It had worked all her life- they were useful in fulfilling the goals she set for herself and Orb, and they had served their purpose.

Why didn't this stance work with Athrun?

She should not have wanted to understand Athrun or to even wonder what he thought every time he looked at her with that unreadable, expressionless mask. She should not have even become attracted to him again, after being hurt so badly in the past.

Blinking in the dark, Cagalli thought of the present she'd worn briefly and ruined even more quickly.

She should have known not to let him grow close to her, not after she had hurt him so badly as well. She shouldn't have felt compelled to please him, to wear the things he set out for her, to be moved in the moments when he opened himself to her.

Why then, was she so willing to trade anything now just to understand him?

As she opened the door and saw him, she knew why.

Because she loved him.

She loved him, despite all those cracks under the perfect exterior; despite how flawed and broken he intrinsically was by just being Athrun Zala. If she had loved him for a hundred different reasons before this moment, Cagalli realised now that those accumulated into how he made her less broken and flawed than she was as Cagalli Yula Atha.

She loved him for being Athrun Zala.

Because of that, she could not let Athrun destroy himself, even if this was sheer hypocrisy on her part. After all, she knew that she was destroying him every time he held her close.

Athrun was sitting up in bed, his upper body supported by the pillows. His hair was slightly damp, framing his face. With some interest, Cagalli realised his hair had the tendency to curl. From the looks of his bathrobe, he had probably taken a proper bath after his dinner, one involving soap and no suicide.

She took two steps closer and saw he was still reading Kant, but a different set of essays.

Randomly, Cagalli wondered what Athrun would think of the chick-lit collection that Aaron had bestowed on her. She almost laughed in her nervousness, but bit it back.

He looked up at her blankly as she stepped closer, and wordlessly, Athrun moved from under the sheets.

"Athrun." Cagalli said softly. "Are you alright?"

For a second, she registered that he was wearing a bathrobe, but then Athrun got off the bed and moved towards her. Athrun looked entirely unaffected now, as if being in this room had given him a mantle he had protected himself with.

"Completely fine."

She blurted out, "Why are you preten-,"

But Athrun took one step nearer, making her take an involuntary step back. He was silent, and she watched him deposit both his glasses and the book on the bedside table.

He came closer to her, his voice entirely neutral. "Are you prepared to write the letter I agreed to send to Kira?"

That very reminder of the yet-to be-completed contract made her stare at him, and her mind was in a whirl. How could he speak of such things when she had come here, prepared to tell him that all she wanted was to understand him?

"I-I am." She stammered, not really knowing how to react.

"Then come." He said swiftly, not giving her a chance to say more. "I have the necessary things for you. Sketch me the most accurate depiction of your personal seal, and then write your letter. I'll make the seal and use it to mark the letter you send."

Now, Athrun took her hand and leading her over to his vanity table.

Unlike hers, his had nothing on it- not even a comb or a case for his reading-glasses- nothing at all. Obviously, the room looked less foreign to her, but Cagalli still felt it was a mostly unused room with little warmth in it.

It hurt her that Athrun was probably using this room and not the real one he habituated whenever he bothered asking for her.

As she sat down shakily in the chair he pulled from under the table, she caught his eyes in the mirror. As he reached around her, putting some paper and the drawing instruments before her, Cagalli remembered his hands.

Meeting Ko yesterday had reminded her of how Athrun had been wearing gloves for quite some time even after she'd met him. After she had told him of her involvement with his banishment from Orb, he had removed his gloves and then kissed her.

At that point, she had not really noticed these scars, but their increasing proximity was making it difficult not to. The scars were thin and near the knuckles, but flared white as if he'd punched something and broke it at his own expense. He probably had.

There was this self-destructiveness Athrun was prone to, and she knew that same destructive energy had drawn her to him. Even now, Cagalli was witnessing its manifestation.

Now, Cagalli knew why he'd never worn gloves after she'd kissed him willingly the first time she'd been brought here. At that time, Athrun must have accepted his feelings towards her, although she had neither realised it nor done so herself.

Athrun regarded her balefully and she trembled, not daring to turn to look at him. Occasionally, Cagalli stole glances at him by means of the mirror. She took a piece of paper.

Then forcing her hands to obey her, Cagalli drew a less than perfect arc. Muttering a curse, she crumpled it and took a fresh piece of paper, trying again. This time, her line was smooth. Looking up at his reflection, she saw Athrun nod in approval.

"A rough approximation should be enough, since only you know the components of the seal." He said calmly. "But the more accurate you make it, the more convincing the letter will be."

"I can do it." She responded, more confidently than she really felt.

Here was something she just could not fail at when the letter depended on it. Trying to reassure herself, she added, "I know it very well."

Cagalli drew in a breath of deep frustration, trying to relax and concentrate.

Shapes within shapes, blacked locked within white, the lines needed to be precise. It looked simple but it was incredibly tedious to make as a seal.

Moreover, the elements of her personal seal were known only to her as the Orb Head, and Cagalli had never used the seal or had a need to so far. For most of the time, the seal representing the parliament was good enough. For this though, every detail needed to be perfect.

Cagalli would have to draw her personal seal for Athrun. And then she would write her letter, attach it with a seal he created for her based on the seal she was about to depict. Only then Athrun would send it to Kira.

"Why do you have a personal seal even when you've never used it?" Athrun inquired. She had suggested using this to certify that the letter he would send had been written by her.

Her voice was neutral after a pause. "One is presented to the Orb Head- all the past Heads have had a unique one only they know the details of. It's decorative, but it carries their voice when accompanied by documents they certify personally. As will mine."

"And you're letting me know the details of this seal so I can recreate it?" Athrun said in slight surprise. "Aren't you afraid I'll misuse it beyond this single letter?"

Cagalli did not look at him, although her voice shook a little. "It's a chance I have to take."

She sketched the seal slowly, taking her time not solely because she wanted to be meticulous but because Cagalli was too frazzled to be very efficient.

While she worked, Athrun stood behind her, thinking of how best to send her letter across to Kira. With this seal of hers, Athrun was sure Kira would accept it as a letter she had written.

He knew she was upset by his guarding her while she drew and wrote. His presence meant he inherently assumed that she was not to be trusted.

But he was quite sure that Cagalli would never merely go to all this trouble just to tell Kira she was fine. Granted, she might, but with how she had proved herself to be quite cunning so far, Athrun suspected she would have more in the letter than met the eye.

When she finished sketching, Athrun studied it. It was more complicated than he had ever imagined, with a misleading simplicity to the design but an intricacy that made it difficult to reproduce as a seal. He would have to instruct Lent Mortimer to be very careful about forging the imitation-seal, for Athrun had plans to keep it even after sending the letter.

"Is it too difficult to recreate?" Cagalli asked meekly, sensing his thoughts. "There's only one seal-maker who knows how to create that very same seal in Orb- and he was the one who designed it in the first place."

"It will be done." Athrun assured her. The Second Eye, Lent Mortimer, had been able to forge and recreate top-secret documents Zaft had destroyed with only crumpled, mostly-burnt papers as reference.

"Alright." She said in a low voice.

"You can start on the letter now." Athrun reminded her flatly. "And remember what we agreed on. Nothing about the Isle at all. You can only write to reassure them of your safety."

Cagalli turned herself slightly nodding. Self-censure with the letter was necessary, Cagalli knew. Still, the consciousness of having Athrun watch her write made it more painful because she knew he did not trust her. She had done nothing to earn his trust, and yet she wanted to share his burden more than anything at this point.

She turned back to the rest of the paper and hesitantly, began to draft a letter to Kira.

"Don't endanger yourself." Athrun warned her. "You can twist the Britannian Premier around your finger, but I won't take kindly to tricks you try to play."

She was avoiding his eyes even in the mirror and Athrun watched as Cagalli struggled to write something more than, "Dear Kira,".

Feeling slightly guilty for being so harsh with her, Athrun gently shifted her long hair away from her back to one side of the neck.

"You could start by writing that nobody has coerced you into writing this." He whispered, his lips tickling her ear. She froze, her eyes darting up like a frightened cat's, and then Cagalli forced them down. She tried to write, but smudged the ink.

Athrun's palms made contact with her skin, and he began to stroke her neck, then shoulders.

His voice was low, a murmur that reverberated only in her consciousness. "Address it to Kira. I won't send it if you address it to anyone else except him."

She bit back a cry as he softly placed a kiss against her neck. It was clear what he didn't want.

Athrun didn't want her keeping in contact with Aaron, someone who would probably could have established a code of communication with her in the past. Nor did he want her to address it to Marlin, whom Athrun clearly thought unkind thoughts of.

Cagalli forced herself not to look anywhere else but the letter, but Athrun's efforts to make her relax ironically made her more tense. And finally, she threw down the pen, glaring at his reflection in the mirror.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Cagalli demanded. "I'm not trying to put any hidden message in!"

"I'm not looking at you like anything." Athrun said with a slight frown. "I only wanted you to relax."

"Yeah?" Cagalli said sharply, ready to spar because she felt so frazzled. "Do you expect me to play at this and pretend nothing happened back there when you were drowning yourself?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not answer. And breaking eye contact first, Athrun stalked away from the vanity.

"Come back here!" Cagalli called out, turning back from where she was sitting so she could glare at him.

"Continue writing." He said flatly, some distance away as he began dimming the stark lights a little to make the atmosphere less tense. The lamp on the dresser would suffice.

Athrun took a step back in her direction, his voice low. "Don't aggravate the person who is sending this letter. Remember the first contract we ever made. You agreed to have dinner with me for information, but you did not bother pushing for your side the deal. You got distracted with the minor disagreement."

Cagalli's voice shook slightly because she was so upset. "Minor disagreement? You're comparing that little squabble then with what you just did a few hours ago?"

"What you saw and what we argued about then are of equal unimportance." He said with a semi-smile. Her eyes were that honeyed amber that reminded him of saplings' trunks oozing that precious substance under clearing light.

She was not writing anymore, but looked very upset.

"Don't you agree?" Athrun questioned. "You're allowing little things to distract you from what needs to be done."

He moved back to her, shifting another chair behind her, and then sat slowly.

"I hardly think so."Cagalli protested. "What you did-,"

"The point is that you didn't push the bargain then." Athrun interjected, pulling her back and forcing them to look into the mirror at themselves. She was forcibly reminded of the past contract she'd made when she'd given him access to half of her. His voice was hushed.

"But the price was low anyway- all you had to do was to have meal with me." His eyes were stormy. "This time though, it won't be."

She bit her lips, looking at him tensely. She looked miserable- bewildered and frazzled. Yet, that hopelessness in her face, that weakness and fear made him want her, and Athrun had to shake himself internally.

The question flew from her lips, despite the need for her concentration then. "Do you regret getting involved with me?"

"No. Even when I agreed to negotiate the first time," Athrun admitted, "I knew it was a mistake. But I wanted to be near you. I still do. That first contract is not something I regret, nor are those we have made."

Cagalli closed her eyes, trembling slightly, feeling both relief but repulsion at what she was planning. "I don't know how much trouble or danger you're going through for this letter. I'm sure it's something you shouldn't risk. But I'm not doing this to endanger you. I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to return as soon as possible."

"I know." Athrun replied with a surprising gentleness when she had expected his anger. "I was a fool for hoping each time that you would be satisfied with what I could give you. And I don't regret agreeing to this madness. I may be a fool, but there were moments of peace you gave me that I never had here while on the Isle."

Mustering the last of her strength, Cagalli tore her eyes from his in the mirror and began to write. Not because of his warnings, but because she could not bear to hurt him anymore, Cagalli abandoned the thoughts of hiding a message within the written one.

Her words were curt, clipped even, and spoke of nothing more than the fact that she was safe and praying for Kira and Lacus' safety too.

Athrun did not object when she briefly mentioned Aaron and James to Kira, even though it would be enough to hint that she knew of events happening beyond the place she was in.

It was almost a notice rather than a letter, but its significance, Cagalli knew, was enormous. She prayed silently that Kira would know what to do with such a letter.

Then nodding to signal she had finished, Cagalli signed her name under the words she'd written, then placed the folded paper under a weight.

"I will send it once the seal can be re-created. It will either be tomorrow or the day after that." Athrun said quietly. "You may go now. I'll tell you when I've sent it."

The unspoken message was clear. Payment would be due once he had completed his side of the bargain.

Shakily, Cagalli turned completely this time, shifting away the chair she had sat in.

But as she stood up, she turned to him and bent over, holding him close to her as if he were a child. Athrun did not willingly embrace her, but he did not push her away either.

"I want to make another contract with you," Cagalli said softly. "I'll do more, I promise. I can't give you everything because I'm already someone else's, but I can do other things. I promise-"

Athrun pulled her arms and hands away, and stood up.

"Tell me what's going on in your mind," Cagalli pleaded in a rush, grabbing his hand as he turned to leave. "Tell me why you've taught Epstein to kill- why you're teaching those children to kill. Tell me what Kitani Harumi and Ko have to do with the Isle. Tell me why you tried to take your life. Tell me who Lyra is!"

"You're asking too much of me." Athrun told her, his eyes narrowed.

He was shaking, and urgently, he pushed Cagalli away and went to sit on the bed.

But she followed after him, sitting next to him. Athrun however, was not aware of this. In his mind, he was only aware of how the relationships had been hollow, empty of real engagement and clear of his inability to love and be loved.

He could not give into temptation and let her form part of another smashed shell of a relationship.

Still, he was distracted from his thoughts as Cagalli began to wind her arms around his neck, kissing him swiftly once more.

She wasn't giving up, Athrun realised. But if he told her of what his thoughts had been in the water, right before he'd lost consciousness, Cagalli would know weak he really was. She would use that against him.

Her kiss deepened, and he found himself faltering. Against his better judgement, he wondered whether the hours of warmth and acceptance she would give him would justify the price attached to that.

Perhaps, it was no different from all he'd experienced in the past.

Even if he broke down in someone's arms, weeping and begging to be let off from the war, the point was that there was someone to hold him in the night.

Even if he had still had to report in the morning and pilot a machine he half-despised but half-loved, he had been completely accepted in those few hours he'd spent with different strangers each time. It had been better than piloting- being despised by the innocent people he killed but accepted by a father that Athrun loathed but wanted acceptance from.

Even if the sex was hollow while satisfying; even if the morning arrived and he was one of two strangers looking blankly at each other; even if Athrun had been filled with that immense, indescribable sadness of knowing how temporary everything was, at least there would be the night.

Wasn't Cagalli offering this for just that price of letting her understand his thoughts?

He moaned into the kiss Cagalli was holding him with, and felt her slip her tongue hesitantly into his mouth and explore cautiously.

She was offering comfort, he knew. He knew what comfort was. Girls without names, girls with names he chose to forget. They had provided that when he had been lonely, frightened, terrified, in need of warmth and pleasure to help him forget the first man he'd killed, the way his father had brushed him aside, and how he'd left Orb without Cagalli hearing him out.

Comfort was temporary. All the experiences he had were short-lived and merely gratifying for a few hours.

Sex with her would not enable him to continue to function and to do his duties. Sex with her would leave him in shambles because he wanted- no, needed- more than physical comfort. He would be left wanting everything.

But hadn't he recognised that even when he'd been Alex Dino?

He'd been more mature than her even then, known the risks of physical intimacy and relationships going awry. So Athrun had been afraid to take, sure that he was right just because she was too shy to give.

Hadn't he tried his best to avoid turning their relationship into those empty, temporary convenience stops? Hadn't he gone as far as to ignore all signs of physical attraction to her?

And hadn't their relationship failed too?

Cagalli was all softness, warm and inviting against his body as she pushed against him.

They had to break the kiss for breath, but this time, he led her back into it. Just before his mouth touched hers, her name was a soft cry on his lips.

He wasn't supposed to be afraid of losing the emotional connection to Cagalli as he had experienced with other women he'd slept with. After all, there was supposed to be very little of that in the first place, since she was only supposed to be a captive. He had no right to demand that she give him more than physical intimacy. For that matter, how could he think of gaining physical comfort from her when Lyra had sacrificed so much and found no gain in that?

But it was the truth that just watching her reflection in the mirror and the light dart off her hair and the silk robe that Cagalli wore had been enough to arouse him physically, to say the least.

As he had watched her sketch and write, Athrun had wondered how she would react if he acted on the temptation to run his palms from under her arms to fondle her breasts, white, lovely secrets beneath her silk robe. Would she have frozen and numbed herself to distance both of them? Or would she let him only because of their existing contract?

He had watched her for so long, without her knowledge. All those incidents of him observing her- she had never even known that he was alive then, and that he was in a place he wanted to reach her from. He had wanted her for so long.

After all, when he'd first met her, her name had stuck in his mind and her bright eyes and smile had lingered even when he had left the island.

It had been impossible to forget the soldier he had met- that golden hair and spirited eyes, the perpetually husky voice, and the glimpses of her breasts.

It was also impossible to say that he hadn't recalled the feeling of her damp lips and the way she'd struggled when he'd kissed her against her will before leaving Orb.

Even the most casual mention of the Orb Princess by the other Eyes could evoke those memories. She was a person he could never quite forget, despite how much he wanted to.

Now, as Cagalli kissed him with a wanton aggressiveness, he felt a frisson of desire erupt into something more cancerous.

That he could still allow himself to be touched by Cagalli and feel emotional and physical pleasure filled Athrun with pain. Cagalli didn't love him, even if she was willing to let him touch her. But Lyra, who had cherished their relationship more than he had ever done, died alone.

Abruptly, he broke off the kiss and shook his head. His voice was faint. "No. I can't agree to this."

"Why?" She said breathlessly her eyes wide.

He shook his head- not merely unwilling but unable to speak.

Her eyes followed him as he stood up shakily, going to the vanity to look at the letter she had written.

The fingers holding her letter in his hand trembled. In the penultimate sentence, she had assured Kira that she approved of the announcement of her engagement and to-be-marriage to James Marlin. During all these years, she had moved on, and the thought of that filled him with blind grief and that awful bitterness.

He let go of the letter, moving back to the bed to face Cagalli.

He had done so much for her. He had come here because he had found no place he could find peace in after leaving Orb. Then he stayed here for her. And she didn't even know it.

"I'll send this letter." Athrun said flatly. "Don't ask me for anymore."

He couldn't take her, no matter what his body and heart was crying out for. He could satisfy his body for the hours he had her in his bed, but after that? Cagalli would surely run from him after that- she would demand that since he'd taken everything he possibly could from her, he had to let her leave. He couldn't have that.

Even that choice was beyond him.

And something changed in her face. That hesitation became a fierce conviction- of what, he did not know, nor was he able to guess.

But she grabbed his hand, pulling him down onto his bed with a strength that surprised him.

Dazed, he felt his head hit the pillow with a soft thump.

She kissed him over and over again, her golden hair falling in waves by the sides of her face, and he closed his eyes, sinking back into a dazed wanting to be drawn to her.

"No," He said helplessly, in a more unsure voice than he thought he was capable of producing. The tables had turned with her dominating him.

Even when he closed his eyes, willing it all away, her small hand was slipping below the bathrobe's hem and near his thighs, seeking and stroking, and he inhaled sharply for that second of pure, insane pleasure.

"What are you doing-," Athrun protested weakly, his eyes widening. "Don't-,"

"Tell me." Cagalli said softly. "I want to understand you. I need to understand you. Every time you touch me, you enter my mind."

Her hand stroked him a little harder, and her voice grew insistent. "Why can't I do the same? I want to please you, Athrun. Let me."

As she stroked him, Athrun found himself tightening as he strained to keep his eyes closed.

The pleasing sensation of her chest against his own and her soft hand moving against him made him feel like she was drawing his soul from him. Whenever he had to do this, it had been a matter of necessity. But her hand was soft, teasing, tentative but intent-filled too, and it was too much for him.

There was that sexuality he had noticed even when he'd met her the first time- how soft her hair and lips were, how unmistakably lush her body was away from the weight of crude metal and leather.

In the past, she hadn't known how to use her sexuality. Now she was using it as a weapon.

Athrun pushed her hand away. His voice was harsher than he meant as he sat up, pushing her off his chest. She did so too, and he turned to her angrily. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I do know what I am doing." Cagalli said stubbornly. "You're the one who acts like you've got it all together. But in truth, you don't even know what you're doing anymore."

He opened his mouth to tell her it hadn't been as she had seen it, but she cut in first.

"You think I'm a hypocrite because you know that deep down, I want you by my side. And yet I make you pay because you feel the same." Cagalli said tensely. "I don't deny that. But I can't see any other way of trying to return to Orb- which I simply must do. And now, even if you brush me aside, I must know what you're thinking. Not because it will help me return, but because I _want_ to know you. "

His arms suddenly closed around her and he was hugging her tighter than she had ever known, her air nearly seized from her, and his voice trembling too.

"I always knew that because loving you would be too dangerous." Athrun told her despondently. "When I brought you here, I wanted to distance myself from you. But I've failed- I couldn't help wanting you still."

"Then let me understand you!" Her voice was quavering, and in horror, Cagalli realised she had lost control. "Tell me all these things, Athrun. You think I'll use your weaknesses against you- you think I want to destroy you, but I don't!"

Her voice shook. "I only want to take some of that pain away. But I can't if you don't let me understand you!"

Unlike the time he had suffered a wound, Cagalli could not simply force him into letting her heal him. There were wounds she could not see unless he showed her, and Athrun was unwilling to in this instance.

She looked up at him miserably. "I know the real reason why you couldn't touch me that night at Rochester's. But I didn't know that I reminded you of someone you loved so much. Nor did I know how much you loved Lyra."

Athrun breathed lightly, almost imperceptibly, and Cagalli thought of the doll she had found, dreaming in the ocean it had chosen for itself.

"You tried to kill yourself for her, didn't you?" Cagalli said brokenly. "That's why you looked at me that way when you woke up and thought I was her.

He laughed hollowly, opening his eyes. "You think I tried to kill myself, and you think I did it because I loved a woman I couldn't have?"

She nodded numbly, not understanding that what she guessed had been rather far from the truth.

"I didn't take my life on purpose." Athrun revealed to her. "Not consciously anyway. You might even have gone as far as to call it an accident. And even if I had tried to kill myself, I wouldn't have done it for her. It would be unfair if I got off so easily."

He turned his head away. And then tiredly, not knowing why he felt so battered and empty, Athrun ran his hand through his hair, then rubbed his face with his hands, conscious that Cagalli was watching him.

"You want to exchange sexual favours for that kind of information?" He shook his head. "You think the information's worth it even when you don't love me but another man. And I'm telling you now that it's not."

She grabbed him roughly by his shoulders and pulled him, making him sit straight up against the headboard. Hauling him was a far more accurate manner in fact, and she could see the shock in his eyes at her use of force and her show of temper.

"Don't tell me what I'm worth!" Cagalli lashed at Athrun. She pressed him against the headboard with her hands against his shoulders, glaring up into his eyes. "What makes you think I'm the one undervaluing myself and overvaluing the information you have? I'm not stupid enough to guess what Lyra Delphius is to you- whoever she is! The way those people looked at me at that party- she was obviously your lover, someone close to you at very least. I envy even your consort, Athrun, because she must have understood you for the hours you spent with her at very least. I want to understand you too! Haven't you realised it, Athrun?"

His pale, stunned expression met hers.

She took a deep, shuddering breath in. Then Cagalli pulled off a barrette and tossed it somewhere on the floor so her hair tumbled to the middle of her back. "You called me Lyra when you woke up. With this long hair, I look like her, don't I? Who is she?"

He was silent.

She did not know that she was being unfair to him. Cagalli did not know that he was as tormented by the memory of Lyra Delphius. She did not know of the awful, heart-wrenching business that had come with Lyra Delphius, and Cagalli did not know that a bit of him had died with the girl he'd shaped and ruined irreversibly.

"She looked similar to me." Cagalli said shakily. "That's the real reason why you couldn't touch me that night at Rochester's, isn't it? You didn't want to be reminded of her."

"No!" His voice ripped into the air, and she felt him push away from her.

Athrun seemed to have become a cold, marble figure once more- reserved and withdrawn.

He knew he would have to lie. Telling her the truth would only open more questions he simply could not answer. "She was my lover. We met when I came here, but she died some time ago."

For Cagalli, her grief and that strange, ugly coil of rage and jealousy was already more than what she could handle. She could not consider Athrun's pain because she did not understand its cause and also because her own pain was already too great.

Athrun's voice was guarded now. He shifted away from her very slightly but such that she could sense him withdrawing. "You do look like her- marginally. Maybe that was the very thing that attracted me to her. But it doesn't matter anymore."

"Why?" Her voice was very small.

"A few years ago, she died in a car accident. I mistook you as her when I first regained consciousness," His expression deepened into a frown. "But you are not really like her."

Athrun sat up, looking blankly into the space before him. "We met here and found that we got along. Because she knew when to speak and when not to, I asked her to accompany to mundane events and that sort of thing. I paid her for it- it started off as just business, but then we eventually got into a relationship. We were both lonely, and it made sense then. She was a friend- a very trusted confidante to me, and I was indebted to her in many ways. But it just couldn't work."

He looked away from her. "Then we began to see things differently, and we ended it after about a year. She died quite soon after that. That's all."

"Didn't you love her?" Cagalli demanded.

Coming out of his semi-daze, he saw how she was shaking uncontrollably. Had he hurt her, Athrun wondered briefly, by telling her all this? Had he hurt her again without even knowing it?

And thoroughly regretting is telling her now, he grabbed her, hugging her tightly to him, but Cagalli struggled, pushing him away, her eyes wet. Her voice was strong although it was raw, and he knew she would never let go of her pride.

"Answer that and one last question about Lyra." She told him with a mute suffering in her eyes. "And then you can take your payment."

He nodded reluctantly, finding himself more honest than he had meant to be. "I never loved her- I just couldn't. And by the time I decided to try, it was pointless."

He did not dare tell her it was because he still loved her. That would have ruined them both.

Cagalli nodded, very pale. "Now answer my last question about her. Did she give you those plant cuttings?"

"Yes." Athrun admitted. "Almost all the flowers in that garden came from the originals she planted. The gardens in the Manor used to be just weeds and untameable, non-flowering plants. But when those were brought in, the offshoots took bloom because they came from very good plants. She had a way with those, especially flowers."

He did not tell her that Lyra had never known of this Manor and had never stepped foot in it. It did not occur to him to tell her, and it did not strike him that it would matter to her. But it did.

She looked away from him, staring at the ceiling and then the walls of this room. Now she finally understood.

This was not a room Lyra had been in, nor a room they must have made love in and talked or connected to each other in. This was a holding room- a hotel room, a room for women he did not really want- women who were not Lyra.

Cagalli was sure that Lyra had lived here in this house, lived here and added her touches to places that Cagalli was now in. Somewhere in this house, Lyra had lived and been happy with Athrun, and Cagalli was not entitled to be in those places.

Deep in her, Cagalli knew she would not be able to go to those gardens and derive the same joy ever again.

Never again, she told herself brokenly. Not when everything there reminded her of a woman he must have loved deeply.

She could not bear the thought of Lyra being with Athrun, comforting him in a way Cagalli would never be able to. In fact, she had been the one to cause his wounds, and nausea entered Cagalli. She was a filthy hypocrite.

The thought of that made her hate herself. She had no right to be near him- not when he was opening himself to her and giving her a chance to attack him when she could not tell him that she loved him.

He was failing to read her for once. But then, Athrun did not know that she was not hiding her emotions but that those had died in her when he had spoken of the garden.

"Now, tell me why you tried to take your own life, if it was unrelated to Lyra." Cagalli requested.

And without understanding himself anymore, Athrun found told her the truth, "I don't know why I held myself underwater either."

"You weren't trying to drown yourself?" Cagalli said numbly.

"No. But I don't really know." Athrun admitted. "I wasn't trying to kill myself, I swear. It never crossed my mind that I didn't want to live. I was just very tired- that kind of feeling that makes you feel you need to be in danger for you to wake from another dream. Do you know what I mean?"

"I just thought I wanted to try going close to death and then letting go of it as it drew near." He revealed. "Just to remember that I was alive- that I was human still."

In truth, Athrun had not truly wanted to commit suicide. He had been tired, fatigued even, when he had placed the gift in Cagalli's room.

In fact, Athun had fully intended to have his dinner and had thus drawn a bath. He had not bothered changing out after removing his socks and shoes, for he would have to wash the clothes anyway.

In the water, Athrun had not shed a tear while remembering Lyra Delphius and the way she had died in his arms a few hours ago. He was far too hardened for that, although there was still grief and he was aware of it.

In the comforting, soothing warmth, Athrun had wondered if he was being damned for eternity, damned for being able to think sensibly and behave normally even after killing Lyra. She had died peacefully, smiling slightly and wistfully, and that made him wonder if Death would leave him the same dignity that it had given Lyra.

Those thoughts had been half-formed, and Athrun could not express this and therefore tell Cagalli all he had felt. Thus, he told her what he could verbalise.

"I placed my head under water," He told her mutely, "I was playing a game I had used to play as a child with other boys. There was a pond and we used to swim in it and train our abilities to hold our breath."

"It's like being in a stranglehold for those minutes," He muttered. "Then you come to the surface, gasping and feeling as if you've been reborn with the rush of air moving into the lungs. That adrenaline doesn't last for more than a few minutes. But it reminds me that if I can die, I must still be alive."

In that water, Athrun had needed that feeling then- that reaffirmation. It was all part of rationalising, which he had taught himself to do. But this time, instead of waiting one or two more seconds, he had waited and waited, convincing himself that with Lyra's death, he needed to wait to be sure.

When he had awakened, he had not felt newer than usual. He had felt more tired, older, more haggard, and seeing Cagalli bend over him, her face showing concern, tears in her eyes and her long hair wet with the water had inevitably made him think of Lyra.

The irony lay in how he had first met Lyra with her long hair, and asked her to cut it so he would be reminded of Cagalli. They were simply not exchangeable or replaceable alternatives to each other.

He was suddenly aware that Cagalli was hugging him tightly to her, placing his arms around her. Her voice was hoarse and ragged, and her breaths unsteady, as if she had been drowning herself.

"Don't do that ever again." She told him softly. "Not when I'm here."

She ran her hands against his chest, placing her head near his heart.

And gently, he hugged her to him as well, feeling a slow, mounting apprehension but relief sweep into him. It was almost as if he had gone even closer to death and then gone back to life.

"I won't even allow it when you suddenly cannot bear the fact that you've killed a thousand people." Her form lifted herself over him as she pinned him down, her hair softly trailing against his skin as she raised herself.

Her eyes shone in the dim light, and he thought of the ocean and the reflected lights dancing golden steps on its surface, far beyond the estate and the stained soil of the Isle.

"You don't have to justify the way you live- not ever again." Cagalli bent down and kissed his forehead, letting him pull her down to him once more, and even as he pushed her onto her back, moving above her, she reached to him, accepting him, burying her face near his shoulder.

"Why not?" Athrun whispered, letting his weight sink over hers until she pulled them onto their sides, their slow, languorous wrestling now culminating in their embrace.

"Because you don't owe a duty to the people you must kill to survive." Cagalli said passionately. Her voice became a murmur and she felt a few tears, warm and stinging, fall from her eyes. She was crying silently even if his face was still that mask.

Was she crying, he wondered, because he didn't know how to cry anymore?

"You owe the duty to yourself and the people who need you to live." She told him, bringing him close to her. And she began to stroke his hair and his shoulders, letting him bury his face near her neck.

Her voice was soothing him, as a lullaby would have, but the beating of her heart and the feverish pulses of their bodies made their sense more heightened than ever. "There are people who depend on you. People who need you. People who want you to live."

"Who?" He said raggedly, watching her.

Her voice was muffled, as vague as her expression as she cast her eyes down, turning her face slightly away from his.

"Like Epstein." She said reluctantly. "Like the twins. I saw it in the way they looked at you. Like Ko, who looked at you, wanting to be loved; wanting to love you, hoping you would let him love you."

Her voice was quiet and infinitely sad. "Like me."

And silently, Athrun lifted her chin and pressed her head back into the pillow, kissing her deeply, her world spinning. When he had to break it, he gazed at her, feeling a rush of emotions- a mixture of hope, joy and sadness. It confused him.

Yet, Cagalli chose to remind him that he wasn't supposed to feel at all. Her voice had nothing he hoped to hear in it, but was dull now and emotionless.

Her confession had evaporated in that minute when she told him, "I'll pay you for telling me that."

He only wanted to be next to her, to fall asleep knowing that she would not push him away.

But there she was, sitting up, looking at him and assuming he was a beast who would never forget what was owed.

She didn't love him, Athrun told himself despondently. She might have needed him to survive on the Isle and grown dependent, but she didn't love him.

Of course, that didn't change how much he wanted to possess her. If anything, the rage he felt at the way he thought she was mocking him made him tremble. And as Athrun tried to control himself, he knew he was lost.

His blood, despite his best efforts to calm down, was pulsing and his body was tingling as if Cagalli had used the feather tips of his fingers to trace her name all over him.

"You want me to pay for letting me into your mind, don't you?" Cagalli whispered raggedly. That was the only way, she told herself sadly, for them to exist. If she allowed him to love her, he would hurt himself. "Nothing on The Isle can be taken without giving something up. That's what you told me."

"That's right." He answered roughly. "Giving and not expecting anything in return is for fools and lovers. We are neither."

She looked at him for a second, then dropped her gaze, nodding. "I want you to tell me about the others too. Epstein, the twins, Ko-,"

"Ah." Athrun said bitterly, with a small laugh. "Then maybe you should pay your dues first. You haven't paid me for that letter. And my telling you about Lyra- you haven't paid yet. You shouldn't ask for more information if you still owe payment."

He got off the bed, undoing his own robe completely in the beckoning twilight that filtered and stained the room in shadows and misty colours. He parted the robe, letting it slide from his shoulders now, letting it fall to the carpet.

As Athrun stepped away, he saw her eyes travel down and widen slightly, and he stared at her as she lowered her eyes, afraid to look back at him. All the same, Cagalli felt her pulse began to throb uncontrollably within her.

Her cheeks grew slightly warm, but she did not shy away when he came to stand by her side of the bed. Instead, she slipped her arms around his waist, trying to assure him that she would do what he asked of her.

"I want you to finish what you started." Athrun said in a low voice. His eyes were narrowed, flinty emerald and very cold. But he knew that no matter how emotionally removed he tried to be, his body would still respond to hers.

Her arms, still clad in her silk robe, were warm against his waist, and his arousal throbbed as he recalled how her hand had felt against him. His voice made a transition into a deep growl because he could not control his desire for her, and she was aware of this and trembled against him.

Her heart was beating fast in her throat and she could feel a delicious thrill run up her spine when he reached for her breasts, knowing that the roiling desire in her core was threatening to spill into the rest of her senses.

"On your knees, Cagalli." His voice was devoid of any emotion. He would show her no more weakness. He would take as she had promised to let him because neither of them deserved anything better. "Now."

She hesitated, but got off the bed. She slid slowly to the floor, gazing trustfully up at reached for her silk robe, parting it easily and pulling it down to her waist.

Her voice crackled into a whisper. "What do you want me to do?"

Without waiting for any initiation, he stepped boldly to her, grabbing her chin with one hand and stroking her mouth with the other.

"What you were doing before." He said coldly. "You told me you knew things, even if you didn't know everything. Don't you know how to do this?"

She blushed, afraid to look, but unable to turn anywhere else.

"I do know." She whispered, lying because she did not want him to reject her.

Nervously, she took her hands from her chest and put those to his strong, well-formed thighs and cupped him, outlining him rather than doing as he'd expected, curious, almost innocent, and running her hand down.

She had never tried this, but he did not seem adverse to it. Keeping her hands like water over him, gently stroking, she brought herself just a little closer and hesitantly kissed him once.

Silently praying she did everything correctly, she gently took a little of him into her mouth, applying a little pressure, then just a little more until. Gradually, she felt his hand clutching her hair and he'd also started growling low in his throat. Encouraged, Cagalli continued, her own arousal nearly driving her insane.

He nearly moaned but bit his mouth for control. He was filled with equal self-loathing as pleasure.

Athrun was tormented that Cagalli thought that everything he did for her was valued in the currency of what her body could do for his. But if she thought so, he'd let her think so. If that was the only way she could face him, then he'd go along with this too.

Perhaps this was what he really wanted, Athrun tried to say to himself. Perhaps, this was all he needed of her. For now, anyway.

Cagalli felt him tremble as the hands in her hair tightened even more than they had already been. She had wondered why girls did this to their boyfriends in the past- she had heard plenty of her classmates and even colleagues and even the clerk one floor below her office take notes on it. But now she knew why. It wasn't solely a matter of clandestine, pagan pleasure- it was a matter of power.

And she found that she didn't just need power over Athrun- she wanted power over him.

She ran her hands up his sides, wrapping them around and pressing him closer as brought her closer to him, and her tongue explored, flickering here and there as he hissed, too taut to think of moving for a while. Her mouth was tight around him, and she stroked him with her tongue, feeling his slickness increase.

Athrun gritted his teeth, growling low. He couldn't believe she was doing things like this to him. It seemed incongruous with that fiery, sweetly awkward and somehow shy child he had first met all those years ago. How did she know how to do things like this? It felt insanely good with her, so much so that it was frightening.

With this feverish contact, with this pleasure, he found that he could not hate her. He ran his fingers through her hair, trembling as he did so.

Then he began to stir, thrusting very hard and strongly. His movements were becoming increasingly erratic in response to her fervent teasing. The way she moaned, his name muffled and sensuous, swallowing and then coming back again for him, her hands exploring everywhere and her chest soft against him - no, there was not nearly enough of her.

"More," He ordered. His voice was like a scream, mad in its primitive expression of pleasure. It was amazing to feel this way- to know that she was here with him and that he was alive still.

Then scarcely without realising it, he uttered a hoarse, half-shout and emptied himself into her mouth, pulling and dipping her head backwards. He was pouring and surging in fully, as deeply as she could facilitate before he suddenly reared away, falling softly.

He closed his eyes, not even aware that he was lying across the bed horizontally, Cagalli kneeling still.

Slowly, with much effort, he forced himself to sit up.

"Was that what you wanted?" She whispered nervously She brought a hand to her lips and wiped them with the back of her hand, shy and afraid.

"Yes." He said simply, his voice rough and hoarse.

As he gazed at her and saw how lost her expression was, how fearful and timid Cagalli really was, he felt something cold and jagged melt in him. He could not hate her.

She began to stroke him again and abruptly, he drew away, shaking his head, remaining silent. Drained and unable to speak, he merely gazed at her. Confused, Cagalli gave him a pleading look.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked innocently, "I thought that was the way it's done?" Athrun, head still spinning, pulled her up to him and onto the bed, hugging her tightly.

Guilt from so many things was building in him, but at the same time, he could not regret what he had gained from her. Although there was that terrible ache in his heart, he knew she would heal it too.

Did she know that and make the conscious decision to do so? Probably not, Athrun decided. After all, she did not love him.

But for now, he was content to have her lie by his side like this. With his release, he felt less frazzled, less tense. Even now, that act of intimacy had given him the release he had craved so much and so long for.

Having her hold him gave him a sense of peace, no matter that she did not love him, and that she would bring him trouble eventually. This was how it felt to lie next to someone and to be at peace for a little while.

"Say," He said huskily, watching her look at him hesitantly, "You weren't lying when you said you knew things, were you?"

"Of course not." She protested, trying to convince him that she was not doing this for the first time. Then boldly, Cagalli added, "I won't do it ever again if you didn't like it."

He looked at her with amused surprise, and she suddenly, wanted to laugh at his expression. Athrun had probably never known that she was capable of being so reckless and forward.

And probably, she decided, he didn't know that she had secretly enjoyed watching him lose his control and advantage over her for once.

Drolly, he recovered from the surprise of her being so bold with him. "I can safely vouch that all males tend to like being touched this way."

She chuckled, appreciating his wryness in a potentially awkward situation. It felt natural, she decided, doing this and being near him. If there was any person she wanted to be with, Cagalli realised, it was him.

They lay in his bed, the sheets cool around their feverish forms.

He inhaled her body's scent, moaning as her hands and mouth travelled, mingling with the stronger accents of his own. Even if he was damned, he would die while being healed by her. She would be his destruction.

But he wanted it that way.

* * *

A few hours later, the Second Eye, Lent Mortimer, was ready.

He plunged the steel cast he had made into icy cold water, and the steam hissed in the air as Athrun looked on.

The room was very hot with the furnace crackling wood, and Athrun could feel his shirt clinging to his back. Lent however, was used to working in these conditions and looked incredibly composed.

"Get me those pliers," Lent said mildly to Miles Summon.

His first aide nodded and passed it to him, and Lent began prying the cast apart. Athrun held his breath. The first attempt had been near perfect, but not quite. The second one had been way off. The third remained to be seen.

"Perfect," Athrun said to himself, staring at what Lent lifted into the air. No crack in the ceramic casing, no marred surface. The seal had been recreated.

"Would you look at that?" Tequila Clarriker, Lent's Second Eye said admiringly. Today, Tequila favoured braids- his turquoise hair was plaited with pink ribbons.

Tequila stepped into the room, or danced, it seemed. "I never knew the Orb Princess had this personal seal."

Tequila's voice was high-pitched like a girl's, and he was currently not in disguise. Yet, he appeared as a girl, once again. His soft hand found Athrun's cheek, and without any inhibition, Tequila stroked Athrun's lips, grinning cheekily at him.

Athrun nodded coolly at Tequila, acknowledging his presence. After all, Tequila had done a good job at Rochestor's party, passing off quite effortlessly as a certain Lady Dolce Mignonettie.

While aides were generally more careful to observe hierarchy, Tequila was invariably and unrepentantly a fruitcake.

"Bring it outside," Lent said quietly to Miles Summon, who nodded and promptly went off with Tequila.

Tequila was squealing over the 'pretty seal', and chattering away to Miles that 'it needs to go with something pretty too."

"Don't bother with ribbons!" Lent hollered at Tequila's retreating back, grinning at Athrun as if he'd read his thoughts.

They walked out of the forge together, Lent stripping off his working coat to reveal beautifully toned arms that his singlet revealed.

As they moved in the corridors of the Second Eye's stronghold, Athrun knew Lent was about to say something. Naturally, Athrun tried to prevent that.

"Nice chaps," Athrun said offhandedly, crossing his arms. "Miles Summon is a real whizz at surgery. And Tequila's a real beauty when he dolls up. How's the other aide-,"

Now, Lent turned to him, pushing up his glasses with a faint frown. "Don't try to change the subject. I know what you're trying to do."

Athrun was silent for a while, but then he felt a need to respond to Lent, whom he sincerely respected. "I didn't mean to agree to this letter. But even then, I think it won't harm our plans. I only want her to be at ease here. She won't keep trying to escape if she feels more relaxed."

"I must tell you something in response to that." Lent told him sombrely. "You're losing trust with both Greyfriar's side, and with our side. You need to watch out."

"I know." Athrun said briefly. "I know you agreed to send Miles Summon to the Fifth Isle not just because he's the best healer amongst our aides. He was also to make sure that I didn't get too close to the Orb Princess."

"Yes." Lent admitted. "June Requiem too. Leopold lent you his first aide precisely because he didn't trust you either. When you sent them back to us after Cagalli Yula Atha recovered from her bullet wound, we were quite sure you hadn't forgotten your duties. But I'm not sure of that now."

"I haven't." Athrun said broodingly. "As I said, I just think it's easier to handle her if I give in at times."

"Really?" Lent said slowly.

Athrun turned away, shrugging. "I'm indebted to you and Sheba than any of the other Eyes. After all, the three of you were the best of friends and I took Sanders away. I wouldn't want to betray that trust."

His colleague shook his head, pushing up his glasses. "Don't say that! It wasn't your fault that they sent Sanders instead. Nobody could have prevented it."

"I could have." Athrun said through gritted teeth. "I should have gone instead. But I was selfish- I asked them not to send Epstein even though I had no business with that boy anymore."

"I understand," Lent told him soothingly. "I know how difficult it is to watch an aide be sent off, let alone one you brought up yourself."

"At the same time, I wanted to have the freedom the Supreme Council promised me in return for training Epstein and staying on the Isle for three years." Athrun said heavily. "I wanted to leave the Isle and Plant, the way they said they'd let me."

"Come now," Lent said softly. "All that is in the past. You only need to make sure that you fulfil your duties now. I'm not sure about your past, but I think I know enough to say that the Orb Princess left quite an impact on you."

Athrun tensed up, but Lent continued.

"Only Sheba and I amongst the Eyes know that you're still engaged to her in the eyes of Plant. Orb hasn't realised it yet. It's unlikely to, even when Cagalli Yula Atha finally gets married to James Marlin."

He looked pointedly at Athrun. "But I want you to tell me how you even got engaged to her in Plant. As I understand, you never actually got engaged to her officially in Orb."

"Of course not." Athrun said in a low voice. "She was officially engaged to Yuna Roma Seiran at that time. We were planning to get married in Plant instead. In the meantime, when I returned to Plant, I had planned to cancel my engagement with Lacus Clyne."

"Who ended up marrying Kira Yamato five years ago." Lent chipped in.

Athrun chuckled a little. "I bet you didn't she had secretly married Kira Yamato before the Second War. She isn't one who bothers much with Plant's laws or social norms."

Lent gaped. "I didn't know that!"

"They got married in secret, without any official document or any real ceremony. He just asked, she agreed, and that was good enough. I was a witness and Kira Yamato's best man at that time." Athrun revealed. "They never felt a need to marry publicly until it was clear that they wanted to start a family.

And even then," He said, eyeing Lent, "I wouldn't put it past Lacus Clyne to have a whole brood in secret without feeling compelled to announce anything."

Lent grinned, agreeing entirely.

Lacus Clyne was quite famous for the way she carried herself and the way she seemed to get past any rule or social norm. There were rumours that she had breakfast in the afternoon, tea for dinner, and supper for breakfast, and that her husband indulged her.

"So when I returned to Plant," Athrun told him, "This was to cancel the engagement Lacus and I had been in before. I thought that if Lacus wanted to get publicly married to Kira Yamato in Plant some day, she would have that option at least."

"Did you actually cancel it? I never heard any public announcement about that." Lent said in amazement.

Athrun sighed a little. "I didn't have a chance to cancel it openly and announce this because Dullindal asked for my help at that time. He knew I was in a relationship with Cagalli Yula Atha, but he needed my co-operation with Mia Campbell. When he sensed my hesitation, he offered to approve and file the engagement I made in my name and Cagalli Yula Atha's. In fact, he was quite insistent that he would always welcome the Orb Princess to Plant as both an Emir as she was then, and as my wife-to-be."

"That's nice." Lent said mildly, but with a touch of sarcasm.

Athrun laughed wryly. "That was probably his way of convincing me that acting along with Mia Campbell wasn't actually wrong, since he was concretizing my plans to marry Cagalli Yula Atha, so to speak. It was also quite a smart way to make me trust him, come to think of it. But it had seemed like a good offer then, seeing that I had at least one person on my side."

"Ah." Lent said, understanding finally. He tried to imagine Athrun Zala marrying Cagalli Yula Atha, and he privately thought that it would have been a huge hassle and a public scandal of sorts.

Natural-Coordinator marriages were scandalous enough back then, let alone one between Patrick Zala's son and Uzumi Nara Atha's heir. Clearly, Lent observed, even Athrun himself had been rational enough to know that the marriage would have been a difficult one, what with the public opinion that would have followed if he'd announced it.

Gilbert Dullindal, man of the moment and rock star of the world's politicians at that time, would have been a powerful ally in convincing Orb to let Athrun have their Atha Emir. This was especially because she was scheduled to be married to some other Emir.

Now Lent understood. Dullindal's role in the past had accounted for the existing engagement that had been filed between Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha in Plant, kept secret for all this time.

"That also explains why you could secretly cancel the engagement to Lacus Clyne and file an engagement with someone else. All because Dullindal was involved in it." Lent realised. "During the Second War, the public thought you were still engaged to Lacus Clyne."

"Political weight to Dullindal's cause." Athrun said dryly. "A son and a daughter of former Plant chairmen, all on his side. The public lapped it up."

"Well," Lent told him, "Cagalli Yula Atha must have been a very important person to you in the past. But that's all over now. You must remember what Plant is promising you if you can fulfil your duties."

Athrun turned back to him, his face a mask once more. "Trust me. I know that."

* * *

When Kira had been a child, he had found no problems learning except when it came to learning a specific collective term.

The correct expression was 'a parliament of owls', rather than 'a flock of owls'. That he could not understand, let alone accept.

For example, a flock of birds seemed to be a sensible expression. Those feathered netizens crowded up trees and crowed in the morning. A school of fish seemed to be right too, with all of them like young students, trailing after each other without any breaking away from the general direction. A pack of wolves was absolutely logical too. Like a pack of cards, each one had personalities and there was always an Alpha and Beta like a King and Queen, and a runt like the Joker.

But a parliament of owls! Now that was difficult to understand .

Now, he finally understood how the phrase had been coined.

The minister for defence stood up and said loudly, "I don't believe that letter is from her! I say we charge into Scandinavia and teach those bastards a lesson!"

There were hoots of approval everywhere. The Orb Parliament though, were not bespectacled, fluffy creatures who hooted and surveyed the world with wise, collective demeanours.

These men and women were more like vultures, waiting to tear him into shreds for breakfast. As he stood in the centre, he couldn't help feeling vulnerable and very upset.

He stood up, trying to speak calmly. "I object. I will not have anyone charging right into Scandinavia to flush everyone out in hopes of finding Cagalli."

"You will refer to her as the Orb Princess." The minister of foreign affairs said loudly. "And you have no power to object to this. You are ultimately a proxy at best."

Kira ignored the urge to massage his temples, still speaking firmly. "I am a proxy, it is true. But the Orb Princess would disagree with your plans to enter Scandinavia to search for her. She would never want to start a war."

"This isn't her choice anymore." Another minister said, his lips unpleasantly stretched in a fish smile. "She isn't around, and we must not let any territory of the Earth Alliance look down on Orb's ability to retaliate in the face of such aggression from Scandinavia."

There were murmurs of approval everywhere.

"It's hardly open aggression." Kira argued. "They haven't done anything that can be proven guilty. And Cagalli's safe somewhere, I know. This letter proves it!"

He regretted saying it. Almost immediately, he could feel their presences prowling around him, examining him.

A middle aged woman, the minister of home affairs, spoke with a voice that reminded him of a slug's trail. There was a drawl and a kind of slime in it. "Proxy, you speak as if this letter is a hundred percent real and written by her, and even then, you assume she was not forced to write this."

The air in the room grew tenser with what the minister was insinuating. And Kira shook his head honestly. "I do not know. But she is my twin, and I can sense that she is alive and safe."

The Commissioner of the Police scoffed, being far more open about his suspicions. "Sense indeed! Your proposal reeks of your private ambition. Plant's help indeed! I think they are involved with our Princess' disappearance!"

It was at that precise moment that Kira nearly lost his temper. His voice was quiet when he started, but it rose into a swell although he knew it was not the way to put the point across. Still, he could not help it.

"All you do is sit there, openly stating that we wage war on Scandinavia when we have no proof that the royals arranged for her disappearance. And you subscribe to conspiracies you have to proof for." Kira snarled.

"It scarcely is a kidnap- there's not been a single ransom letter or call, and yet, you want to overthrow the balance the Orb Princess has spent most of her life working to achieve! Don't you understand that Plant would be very useful even if we chose to go to war with Scandinavia?"

There was a roar on every side of the table. Officials were arguing, but Kira sat down, too weary to continue.

"Let's not get bothered by conspiracy theories here." Kira said finally, when the noise had died down. "We know for a fact that the Orb Princess never used this seal before or divulged its existence or details to anyone."

"Moreover," Aaron said sharply, standing up from his section of the large, oval meeting room. "It is common knowledge to the Parliament and Nobles that the Orb Head is presented with a personal seal. Personal seals aren't particularly important for the recent Orb Heads- it wasn't the official, public one anyway. As far as the investigators know, the Orb Princess had hers in that safe. It hasn't been touched or seen since the day she locked it in."

"Yes," the Minister of Economic Development called up. "But what if she was forced to divulge the details of that seal from wherever she was? And what if that instigator was from Plant?" He glared at Kira, who looked back stonily.

"That's possible on both grounds." Aaron admitted. "Plant has been silent all this time, even as our relationship with the Earth Alliance has been going downhill. I think they may or may not be involved, but currently evidence is not against them."

Kira stood to speak. "We would be foolish if we accused Plant of being involved in this. We should make them Orb's ally rather than let Earth Alliance get Plant on their side, just in case Earth Alliance turns on us."

"Also," Aaron added, "The Orb Princess would have faked the details of a fake seal if she were forced to divulge the seal's details. After all, her captors, if there are any," He said darkly, "Would not know any better."

"The investigators are comparing this seal and the original." Kira said firmly. "There should be no difference. If there were any, that would surely be her way of telling us she was endangered and threatened. But the fact that the exact details of the seal are reproduced show her hand in this, and it is a willing hand, no doubt."

There were now murmurs of agreement everywhere. Then Aaron Biliensky stood up, his face in a frown. "I will now call for a crucial vote. All hands up."

There was a pause but the hands were raised.

"Those in favour of following the Proxy's proposal of requesting for Plant's help will leave their hands in the air. Those against his proposal will put their hands down."

Kira looked around, and with a dull relief, saw that less than ten out of sixty hands were no longer in the air. Aaron had convinced them that the letter Kira had received was from Cagalli.

And with Cagalli's reassurance that she was safe, Kira then had the support of most of her Parliament.

"Thank you." Kira said quietly. "Dismissed."

They filed out, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the noise and the footsteps to disperse. Sweat was trickling down his back and neck, and it was distinctively cold.

Then forcing himself to concentrate, Kira opened his eyes. Only Aaron was left in the room.

He gazed down at the original letter, which had just been sent back from the labs and investigation chambers. They had found nothing particularly extraordinary about the ink, the paper, or even any fingerprints on it except Cagalli's.

Pressed at the bottom of the letter was her personal seal. It was a beautiful mark, Kira observed, and it had been crafted specially for her when she had taken power as Orb's head after the Second War.

The crafter was under questioning now, but Kira suspected that it was unlikely that the wizened old man had reproduced the seal or told anyone of its details. Looking at this letter even without the seal that was confirmed to be hers, Kira knew his twin had written it.

If she had traced this seal out in her mind, Kira supposed, Cagalli would have probably stared with the centre of the complex kaleidoscopic view of the final seal.

First there was an arc, then another, intersecting to form an almond-shape. Within the almond, two bisecting lines ran through and crisscrossed to touch all the diagonals of each arc's ends.

The butterfly-like shape was more complicated however than what met the eye. Certain portions were blackened with dark ink, but certain light, such that it was completely symmetrical.

The whole structure fitted within a diamond shape that had two opposite ends touching the exact bisecting line of an outer-circle- some recognisable alphabets and some strange symbols lining the circumference.

Frowning slightly, Kira took a pocket-mirror from Aaron and held the letter before it.

Her name appeared.

Had it been a mistake of the seal-recreator when he or she had carved Cagalli's name? But glancing at Aaron, who shook his head vehemently, Kira knew otherwise.

Aaron had been speaking to someone on the phone, and now, he finished off with the conversation and turned back to Kira.

"That was to inform us that the investigations just finished." Aaron informed him tiredly. "The creator of the stamp's cleared. He went through the lie-detector test with no problems at all, and even interrogation didn't work. He's telling the truth, no doubt about that."

They studied the stamp of the seal on the letter.

"I haven't seen the actual seal." Kira admitted. "It's still in the top-secret investigation quarters, so I'm not sure. But this-," He pointed to the inverted letters, "Could this be Cagalli telling us something?"

Aaron hurried over and peered. But then he shook his head.

"The seal-creator says it was deliberately created that way." Aaron added. "He says it was the only seal that had that particular characteristic of the Orb Head's name being inverted. That was the most unique thing about the seal, apparently, and only Cagalli herself knew what the seal looked like."

With the seal that only she would have know the existence of and in such great detail, it was impossible to re-manufacture unless she had drawn a copy of it.

Kira was sure she had written this letter. The penmanship was certified by more than ninety percent accuracy.

Moreover, Kira was sure that whoever who had sent this for her would have been careful enough to remove anything else that was telling. There were no fingerprints other than hers; nothing at all.

In other words, all they had was this.

He turned back to Aaron, his face in a frown. "Get Plant on the phone. Put me to the spokesperson of the Supreme Council. It's time to bring them into this, because we need their help."

* * *

"You're going soft." His superior, Seven, was sounding more irate than usual." I'm in a good mood though, so I won't call you a shithead."

"How so?" Athrun questioned. "How am I'm going soft, and what do you mean when you say something's put you in a good mood?"

"Don't play games with me. Or the Numbers."

Athrun winced. "Games with my superiors? How would I dare to?"

"Don't lie." The voice was very sharp, and there was a sound in the background that may have been a fist pounding once into a table. "I just got information that Kira Yamato will be going public with a letter. That letter came from apparently nowhere, but was addressed to him with Cagalli Yula Atha's personal seal! Apparently, one exists, and the one that was used to mark her letter is a perfect recreation of that seal!"

"I allowed it." Athrun said mildly. "So what?"

"So what?" The voice roared instantly, squeaking really, because of the distortion device the speaker was plugged to on the other side. "Athrun Zala, you really-,"

"Shush, shush," Athrun said mock-hastily. "Names, remember? And also, you need to stop being so quick with your temper, Seven. It's bad for your health."

"Don't give me advice on my health," The voice growled belligerently. "You're the one who wants to drive me into my grave, aren't you? God- what possessed me to help you out every time-,"

"That's what friends are for." Athrun said mockingly, although he sincerely meant it. "And really, I'm beholden to you, Seven. From Ecuador to the poles, I doubt my businesses would have flourished so much without your help. It's difficult to get out of this place so I need people to help me manage my businesses, and really, you've been great. But leave me to my own devices where the Orb Princess is concerned, really."

"If I did that," the voice said nastily, "I think we'd be utterly fucked by now. And when I say 'we', I mean the Orb Princess too. Don't think I'm retarded and don't know why you're doing this. I know you still want that woman."

Athrun raised an eyebrow. Surely, his superior or anyone for that matter, didn't know that it had only been a few hours since he'd left Cagalli in his bed. She hadn't struggled or protested when he'd touched her the way she'd taken care of him- she'd let him and he had enjoyed her responsiveness and sensitivity.

The memory of her cries and the taste of her arousal, warm and sweet as she'd leaned back into the pillows, made him feel slightly feverish now. He thought of how Cagalli had pleaded with him to let her understand him. She'd also wanted him to tell him about his aides too.

But he had not told her more other than that about Harumi and Ko. He'd been far too desperate for her touch then, far too needy to think of other things except to feel her against him.

Yet, Cagalli was very persistent- he had to admit that. Even when both of them had been satisfied and he had been prepared to fall asleep, she'd whispered, "Will you tell me about Epstein and the twins now?"

"Why should I agree to tell you about the aides, now that you know about Ko and Harumi?" Athrun had retorted. Cagalli had looked back at him, biting her lips, and he'd relented.

"Alright then," He'd muttered. "We'll do it this way. If you win at cards tomorrow, I'll agree to this contract."

Now, Athrun wanted to return to her and tell her he'd sent the letter. He wanted to win, even if he would have to tell her about his aides. He wanted her again, now that he'd had more of her. Also, he could now claim his payment for that letter Kira had received just some time ago.

But he had to handle Seven first.

Seven began to mutter in his tirade. "I knew you still loved her when you agreed to stay on. In fact, I knew it before you even agreed. And even after that, I think you became more obsessed with her. All that watching after her that you did, all that time you spent trying to make sure she was safe in Orb- God, I shiver at how crazy you can be when it comes to the details. That pen you insisted I give her and convince her to keep-," The voice grew loud again, "I didn't even know there was a camera in it!"

"I had to get you to give it to her," Athrun said evenly. "If it had arrived as a mystery gift or some random present from some lesser friend, the bodyguards would have taken it apart and realised she was being observed. But if it came from a close friend, she would hardly let any beefcake smash it apart to make sure it was safe to write with."

"Close friend indeed," Seven grumbled. "My fiancée was bewildered when I insisted she give it to Cagalli Yula Atha on our behalves when we had already gotten another present before that."

Athrun snorted. "I'm sure that pen was more useful than some lousy painting."

"Shut up!" The voice sounded enraged. "We had to donate it to some art gallery after we couldn't find anyone else to give it to. Besides, it was difficult lying to my fiancée as to why this pen was better as a gift, and why she was the one who had to present it to the Orb Princess and not me."

"Just calm down and trust me," Athrun said, trying to assure the party at the other end. "I wasn't brought here for nothing. I intend to be a good stooge to you politicians."

The voice paused and Athrun knew he was getting through.

"I suppose you're right when you ask me to trust you." The voice said slowly. "But don't take too many risks. You're putting yourself in danger every time you do things like that. There's only so much the Numbers will do for a single Eye when so many can replace you."

"Really?" Athrun said in a bored voice. "Like who? Epstein Cleamont again?"

"The Numbers would rather sacrifice a troublesome pawn than try and protect it," Seven snarled. "Especially when you do stupid things that endanger yourself anyway. Remember that we promised you-,

"Yes, I know." Athrun interjected sardonically. "You people promised me an asylum and the perks of freedom after all this is over and done with. I was lured into the Isle for that, and by Jove, I'm still looking forward to it. Even more, actually, after you made me stay on beyond the first contract."  
There was a pause on the other side.

"And sure, I'm entirely aware that you didn't promise me immunity beyond the scope of duty I am obliged to carry out." Athrun added bitterly. "We're all businessmen at heart- we know what's a fair bargain and what's better- an unfair one."

"Good that you remember that." The voice became slightly more stiff but more weary too. "Don't you forget it either. I don't want to have a situation where I'm forced to defend you for things you've done that you can't even explain. But having said that, good thinking with the letter. It's put us where we want to be in this whole slate of affairs. Orb's finally brought us into this good and proper. It's official that Plant's Supreme Council will be the mediators between Orb and Earth Alliance."

"So you're not going to kill me for sending the letter to Kira Yamato?" Athrun said cynically.

"Of course not," The voice sniffed, comical because it was so high-pitched in its distorted nature. "You know what we always say about your indifference for rules, but you know you're too useful. You should know that by now, Estragon. When your contract came to an end, we had to find a way to make you stay on."

"I know." Athrun said in an unreadable voice. "You people did it a second time when I asked to leave in my fourth year here."

There was a pause. Then the voice said a little more softly, although it was by nature, quite forceful, "I will apologise for that. Not in my capacity as your superior, but in my capacity as a friend, if I can still call myself one."

"Don't worry about that." Athrun said mildly. "I got over the shock of having my friend supply my private information to his colleagues for the sake of his duty. I may have done the same if I had been you at that time."

"You would not have done that." The voice declared imperiously. "Don't forget that I'm counting on you to remind me that I'm a bigger bastard than you are at times, Zala."

"Alright," Athrun laughed, although the seriousness of the situation was undeniable. "And get some rest Yzak, you sound like crap."

"Hey, names! Names!"

* * *

That evening, Athrun solved the puzzle for Cagalli.

She had leapt off the bed and sprinted to him when he'd entered her room, saying to him in frustration, "I give up! I can't solve the bloody thing!"

"What is it?" He asked patiently.

When he'd left her last night, he'd written a note that he would be back within the day. This was opposed to how he'd often left her without telling her.

Thus, Athrun had been expecting her to be ready for his news about the letter, and for her to be willing to reciprocate.

But he hadn't expected this, Athrun thought with a grin.

She'd begun to chatter in her impatience, like a child who was excited about some toy. "I tried for ages, Athrun, I really did! But this stupid thing won't open. And I'm too stupid to solve it! Just do it for me- I can't go one more day without solving this blasted thing! I've been staring at it for ages, but it just won't budge for me! Do it, Athrun! Do it!"

He'd grinned, taking off his coat and slinging it on a chair while she tugged on his arm. Then he'd taken the puzzle from her and with one hand, led her to her bed, holding the puzzle in his other hand.

By the time they got there, and by the time she sat down next to him, he took it from behind his back, and there it was, solved.

In his palm, it had been unfolded and it appeared now as something of a small, wooden box without a cover.

She gaped at him, and he laughed at her.

"How did you-," Her eyes were wide, and he thought of plates tilted to catch the light.

Teasingly, he took his hand away from hers and used both his hands to scramble it again with seconds.

"Wait, do it slowly," Cagalli protested, grabbing his hands in hopes of stopping him. "I want to know how you opened it like that and-,"

"That's interesting." Athrun said amusedly. "You seem more interested in opening in it than getting what was in the puzzle."

She stared, and then winced, smacking herself on the forehead. "Oh, I clean forgot-,"

In her blind desire to open the puzzle, she had forgotten the point of opening it. In the first place, what she had wanted to see was what lay in it, but she had been so frustrated in opening it that the puzzle had seemed to be the point, and not what it held.

"So what was in it?" Cagalli said curiously, trying to look around. "You took it out when you unscrambled it, didn't you? Where's it now?"

Athrun chuckled.

Then he flicked his wrist in the air and his fingers closed against his palm, trapping something in it. She was reminded of how he'd plucked a rose out of the air at Rochester's, much to the delight of the hostess.

His palm was closed around something.

Athrun it seemed, had picked up some magic tricks to add to his card skills that he had demonstrated to her all those years ago.

She could never beat him at anything which required skill, it seemed. Not in chess, not in poker, and not even in how quickly he could shuffle cards. The things she was far better at however, involved luck. He rarely beat her in blackjack.

"You're going to have to show me how you did that trick too," Cagalli told him mock-seriously. His eyes regarded her solemnly instead, and she stilled.

"Hold out your palm." Athrun said quietly.

And staring at his hand, Cagalli stretched out hers, and he let something fall into it. The familiar, blood-red colour of the Haumea stone stared up at her, and she looked back at Athrun.

"You kept it all this time," Cagalli said in amazement. Her eyes flew to his, and she saw he was staring at it wistfully.

"I would never discard it." He admitted. "It's brought me quite a bit of luck, I think."

She took it and slung it around his neck, lifting it as its leather string stretched a little. He took her hand, placing it to his heart and gazing at her.

Then suddenly shy, Cagalli ducked her head, feeling his hand draw around her shoulders and pull her closer.

"Do you still want me to show you how to open it?" Athrun said softly.

She bit her lip, feeling his lips graze her ear. He seemed to have realised that this was a sensitive spot for her, and he knew exactly how to locate that bundle of nerves and tease her there.

Fighting back the urge to tremble in her anticipation of an entirely different reason, Cagalli nodded.

And with one arm still around her, Athrun groped for the puzzle he had scrambled, and with his right hand half-holding it and his fingers working fast, he murmured, "You start by imagining this is a cube."

"H-Hold it," She stammered. "I've never been able to solve a Rubik's cube either!"

Embarrassed, Cagalli grinned sheepishly at him.

"I'll teach you a simple method for that one," He said smilingly. "But that's not related to this. Now- this puzzle. Just that if you imagine this whole thing as a cube, organising the attempts become easier."

With only his thumb and his forefinger, the other fingers holding the puzzle, he shifted the sides carefully, at a speed that was certainly slower than anything he'd attempted because she wouldn't have gotten it otherwise.

But then, Cagalli knew she was mesmerized by those fingers working, not the puzzle coming undone, and she felt her heart beat fast and hard.

She heard him whisper, "There you go. Not as hard as it seems."

Coming out of her daze, Cagalli looked at him. Their faces were inches apart.

"Who gave you this?" She questioned.

He looked back at her with no definable expression in his face. "My father. I was about eight then, I think. A gift for doing well in the exams. But before he told me what to do with it, I couldn't open it either."

And she said quietly, "I don't think I've figured it out still."

"But you've already extracted what you wanted to know from it." Athrun said in a hushed voice. "You've gotten what you wanted from it."

They knew what he was really referring to.

She breathed in, her shoulders tensing. "It isn't enough."

"What is enough?" He asked quietly. "When will it be enough?"

She paused, looking into his eyes. "When I can solve it without trying- when I can understand without having to know."

The puzzle, in his palm, lay open. She had not opened it by herself in the end, and she had required his help in solving it.

After all, Cagalli thought sadly now, only he knew how and when to open himself to her. All she could do was to try, over and over and over again.

"Athrun," Cagalli said tentatively. "Can you tell me about Harumi and Ko now?"

"If you win." Was his response.

He stood up, taking the puzzle along with him, bringing it back to the vanity and then coming back to her with a pack of cards.

Shuffling them quickly, he spread them in a long line between them both. Looking at her, he drew one, glancing at it, flipping it to show her the queen of hearts.

Slowly, she reached to one, and then pulled it out, showing it to him. She had drawn the ace of spades.

Impressed, Athrun realised that even the Haumea stone hadn't been able to bring him luck when he was faced with Cagalli. She probably had the fortune all gamblers would have killed for.

"Your luck hasn't changed all these years." He told her. "You want to know about Kitani Harumi and Ko, don't you?"

"Yes." Cagalli said eagerly. "I've seen her here before."

Athrun frowned slightly, collecting the cards and setting them aside.

"I suppose I should start with Harumi first." He said quietly. "I've told you before that I inherited quite a few businesses."

She nodded a little.

"I can't leave this place as frequently as I like," Athrun said. "And I'm not supposed to at all. So I need people to help me run those businesses. I met Harumi Kitani quite some time before the First War, when I visited the Joule Estate. She was actually an acquaintance of Ezalia Joule's."

"Ezalia Joule!" Cagalli said in amazement. "I didn't know she dabbled in commerce."

Athrun chuckled, not quite bothering to tell her that Yzak had really been the link to all of this.

"That lady is a political creature, of course, but you'll find that she's a very good business woman too. I met Harumi while sending some documents to my father, who'd forgotten to take those to the Joule Estate when he had a meeting there. I was introduced to Harumi by Lady Joule, and it turned out that Harumi dealt with stocks, including some of the Zala family's."

"I see." Cagalli said slowly.

"Before I decided to leave Plant to come to the Isle after the Second War, I had to entrust my businesses to somebody. I chose Harumi. Or rather," He paused, "She chose me. She visited me and offered to manage my businesses for me."

"What do you mean?" Cagalli questioned.

"She visited me before I left the Plants for the Isle." Athrun told her. "In return, she asked me to bring her son here, where nobody could harm her son. I declined at first, saying I didn't have the power to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't just enter as you wish," Athrun said patiently. "You have to be sure that you comply with the rules of not communicating with anyone outside, not leaving, all of that." He shrugged. "Of course, I broke the rules anyway, but nobody's found out yet."

"Why would anyone want to come here then?" Cagalli wondered.

"To forget." Athrun told her directly. "You've seen them at Rochester's. Most of them have been here even before the First War. They grew tired of their past lives, and they applied to come here- this holiday resort, if you like."

"That's jut escapism!" Cagalli cried. "Athrun- you,"

"Call it what you like." He said tensely. "But people want to forget sometimes. And when they decide enough's enough, they are willing to give up anything to come to a place where they will assume new names and do whatever they like as long as they comply with the rules."

She fell silent, knowing she had to right to judge him when she'd caused him so much pain he had wanted to forget everything as well.

"Ko's being here was a result of Harumi wanting to protect him," Athrun said. "Harumi was desperate to offer something of value to me once she heard that I was leaving the Plants to go to a secret place."

"How secret can that be?" Cagalli scoffed.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Athrun said smilingly. "As incongruent as it looks, she's the head of the underground society in Japan, if such a thing exists. Pick up even the lowliest pickpockets on a street in Japan and they will know the head honcho even if they don't know which syndicate their gang leader gives the money to."

Cagalli shook her head. "Golly."

"That's her- she's the head honcho, although she has respectable businesses outside all that too. That's part of the reason why she's such a powerful business contact to have. And that's also how she gets her news. Ezalia Joule's just one of her respectable contacts- imagine what her underground contacts are like."

Cagalli ran a hand through her hair, marvelling at all of this. "Actually, I believe you. She looks very formidable."

"She is." Athrun agreed. "But she'd do anything for her son. In other words, she agreed to work for me."

"I can accept that," Cagalli nodded, "But what about bringing Ko here? And I saw her around- you mean she can just enter and level like that?"

"I broke the rules." Athrun said indifferently. Cagalli blanched, knowing she'd made him break a few as well.

"Harumi wanted her son to be safe here," He told her. "And she wanted to meet him from time to time. It would have been impossible elsewhere if I didn't bring him to the Isle. But he was too young then, so I told her I'd bring him when he was six and knew not to be a liability to anyone. That was four years ago."

"He's learning how to fight," Cagalli recalled. "And very well too."

"Part of the deal." Athrun told her. "Harumi wants him to know how to protect himself. And you can see why that's important-," He added. "If you've noticed what Ko looks like."

Cagalli paused. He doesn't look much like Harumi- same eyes of course, but the skin and hair colour-,"

"His father is not Japanese but a foreigner," Athrun said flatly. "And not just a foreigner but a Coordinator too."

Cagalli did turn around this time. Her stunned expression met his calm one. "What?"

"I told you before that everyone on the Isle is a Coordinator. That is partially true where Ko is concerned. That's why the boy is in a dangerous position, no matter where he goes in any country or even if Plant gives him a citizenship." Athrun told her.

"His mother is a Natural, and a person who meets all sort of dangers in her daily life. Add the fact that his father is a Coordinator and a foreigner- mayhem, really. He doesn't fit in anywhere. He's just too noticeable for that."

"Who is his father?" Cagalli pressed. Athrun shook his head.

"I don't think anyone knows. If Harumi ever revealed that she took a lover like Ko's father and had a son of mixed blood in so many ways, the underground societies would flip. So he is safer here, even if he sacrifices some things for it."

"So that's what you meant when you said I'd eventually meet Epstein's children. He's Ko's foster father." Cagalli said, finally understanding. "The twins look up to him like a father too, don't they?"

He nodded.

"But Athrun," Cagalli questioned. "Why not you?"

A look crossed into his face which she could not decipher. "Regardless of his youth, Epstein makes a better father than I ever can or will."

Cagalli stared at him and thought of how he'd first told her that nothing came free here on the Isle. "And do you love the boy?"

Athrun shrugged ambivalently, hiding his feelings and the pain in his heart. "It doesn't matter. I only have to protect him. That's all we agreed on. Love wasn't part of the contract. It would be dangerous if I grew to close to them, or even to the aides. I'd have something lose that way.

Disappointed, Cagalli cast her eyes down, thinking of the same contracts she'd made with Athrun. Love wasn't part of those contracts- it had never been part of those.

"Alright." She whispered. He stood, having finished what he could possible tell her. Hastily, Cagalli asked, "What do you want in return for your telling me?"

He paused. "I don't know yet. I'll think about it. But I won't be seeing you at dinner today."

"Why not?" Cagalli demanded, not quite meaning to but still doing it. "You said you'd tell me about Epstein and the twins tonight."

"I'm training with them." Athrun said simply. "So I can't have you with me tonight. You'll have an early dinner. The twins will bring your dinner here and you can have it when you like. They need to spar today."

She swallowed, watching him. "Can't I come?"

His face held that closed expression. "I think not."

"Please," Cagalli wheedled. "I want to see."

"There's nothing exciting," Athrun said, trying to persuade her to stay in her room.

Athrun didn't want her to see them using their weapons. He didn't want Cagalli to see him coaching the aides and teaching them how to kill in the most efficient manner.

"It doesn't matter." Cagalli retorted. "I just want to come along too. I promise I won't interfere, I won't-,"

Just earlier this month, he had taught Ko how to slit throats neatly, and they'd practised with pillow cases. Just one slash across, he'd told the boy. No fuss, no muss.

"No." Athrun said with a tone of finality. "I shouldn't even have mentioned it. Just stay here and have an early night. Paint something else, do something else. Just stay here tonight."

"No," She said equally firmly. She pointed to a corner of her room, where finished paintings were lying against the wall. Those were going to finish lining even the length of the rather long walls. "I'm not interested in painting anymore."

He clucked his tongue in annoyance, looking at her warningly. "Don't force me to lock your room all over again."

And with that, she knew she had lost. She could lose her temper, Cagalli realised, and argue with him. But really, that didn't work as well as being sneaky and using insidious methods, rather than direct attacks.

"Alright." Cagalli said sharply. "I won't be expecting you tonight either. I'm not going to your room tonight, since you asked me not to leave my room."

Athrun had to fight back a chuckle and shrugged indifferently.

Privately, he liked it when she was being so spirited, so feisty. They both knew he was not frightened by her threat. If he wanted to enter her room and have her sleep by his side, he jolly well could. After all, she had agreed to it a long time ago.

She bit her lips, looking defiantly at him, irritated at how stubborn and overbearing he was being, irritated at how she'd ruined it all for both of them.

When he left, Cagalli waited a while. Soon enough, the twins came, both of them looking a bit edgy, both dressed in their usual dresses and aprons. They laid out dinner and seemed unwilling to engage in conversation with her, even when Cagalli persisted. Instead, they left quite quickly.

So she waited. Not eating the food, she waited until they'd left for quite some time.

Then opening the door and peeking, she stepped out.

She moved down the usual corridor that led her to the dining room, and saw nobody there except Ko.

However, Ko's back was turned to her as he finished the last of his meal. Four different sets of dining utensils were on the table, and the plates revealed different states of a meal the diners had chosen to finish or leave.

Ko, it seemed, was the slowest at finishing his meal. With some difficulty, he glugged down the last of his soup, then stood up, hurrying into another corridor.

Cagalli watched behind a pillar, aware that her pulse was racing.

Ko had been wearing slacks and a form-fitting shirt, and she knew he was going to train too. His voice was a strange echo as he called out to 'Cathy! Lacy!", who must have hurried down that same hallway.

Cagalli sprinted after him, carefully however, not to be noticed. She saw his retreating figure and set off after him, and then ducked behind a pillar as he flung open a set of doors and disappeared behind them.

Fitfully, she counted to a hundred and twenty, then quietly crept to those doors. Opening them slightly, she peeked and fought back a gasp.

Inside, Athrun and his aides were training in a large hall. Cartesia was throwing knives towards a distance of twenty metres. She was not missing a single mark.

In another far-off corner of the large hall, Laplacia was sparing with Epstein. Both were using dangerous-looking blades that glinted, and they were both as Cagalli had never seen.

Epstein was panting slightly, but his swipes were clean and very lethal.

Laplacia, on the other hand, leapt into the air at every attempt Epstein made to strike at her, and her graceful motions reminded Cagalli of a cicada dancing in the wind.

Ko was warming up, jogging on the spot, stretching backwards and then forwards.

When he was done, he went to stand by a basket of small, thin blades, and like Cartesia, he began gathering blades in one hand and using his dominant one to throw at a target.

It went on for quite some time, but Cagalli was not watching them anymore. She was staring at the blades whistling into the air and then by some strange magnetism, getting stuck in the wooden blocks.

All this, while Athrun looked on at his pupils.

His back was faced towards her, so Cagalli could not see his expression. She focused on the aides, and felt a sense of disconcertment enter her.

Had this been why Athrun did not want her to see them? Did he think she would feel aversion and repulsion to how his aides were already efficient killers under his tutelage?

She had no time to consider this.

For suddenly, Athrun leapt at Ko, pulling out a knife from somewhere under the form-fitting clothes he wore, seeming to strike at Ko.

Cagalli only bit back her scream in time, for Ko looked up at the precise moment, and although startled, managed to duck the blow.

Athrun thankfully, had not expected Ko to duck it, and had used the back of his knife rather than the actual blade.

Nor had Cagalli time to recover.

Ko was immediately returning the attack, no longer a cherubic, smiling boy but a lethal, still creature that returned slash for slash, movement for movement, and with an intensity that frightened her.

Ko had been taught well- very well, in fact.

Cagalli stood there, watching through that crack in the doorway. The sparring seemed to go on and on, and she was aware that neither of them were really giving in.

If she had been there, surely, she would have collapsed by now.

But Athrun and Ko were still moving fast, their slashes still powerful, and she thought they would simply have to stop eventually, with nobody the victor.

Still, the boy was inexperienced and had not built up his stamina. Athrun caught the boy's arm when Ko made a mistake of showing his back to the opponent.

Quite neatly, Athrun flipped him over and held the blade to his student's throat, signalling that the match was over.

"Okay." Ko said in a tiny, unsteady voice. "I give up."

Athrun straightened up, and he turned.

At that point, Cagalli caught sight of his face. It was a steel mask, the eyes not Athrun's, the mouth a cruel line of pure hardness. Then the mask broke and Athrun was hauling the boy to his feet, ruffling his hair.

"Not bad." She heard him say to Ko. "Good job on the second leap you made- you might have taken me down there. But next time, less pressure on the hands and the knees. That spends too much energy. I'll show you what I mean."

Athrun fetched a blade he'd only just put down. His voice was firm. "Attack me in any way you wish."

Letting out a small cry, Ko threw his blade at Athrun, who ducked it and then sprang right at Ko, so quickly and so lightly without his knees taking much weight at all.

The boy nodded eagerly as Athrun released his throat, a puppy really.

Immediately, Athrun began massaging the boy's throat, looking concerned, but Ko did not seem to notice. His eyes were shining, and he ran off and fetched a blade longer than his forearm. "I'll practise now!"

"No," Athrun told him. "I'd rather you rest."

"But Cathy-," The boy protested.

They turned back to Cartesia, who was still throwing knives evenly.

The 'thunk, thunk thunk' sound of the blades sinking into the wooden marks was chilling to Cagalli, who watched from that crack in the doorway.

"She's been training for longer than you," Athrun told him.

Cagalli strained to listen. "She can go on without feeling tired, but you can't. So train a little more every day, and soon you'll be able to sustain your fight."

Epstein suddenly gave a shout, and they all realised that Laplacia had pinned him down.

Impressed, Athrun nodded at her, and she stood up, panting, her eyes gleaming like a wolf's, her hair not that neat loop anymore but long and light-coloured, spilling everywhere.

She looked like a wild creature, Cagalli thought in horror. A wild animal.

"Alright, alright." Epstein was conceding. "I'm out of shape. Now can you let go?"

Still panting, Laplacia let go of the arm she had twisted around his head, but only because she grabbed his other one and seemed to want to break it.

"Laplacia," Athrun called out. "That's enough."

She seemed to come out of a daze, and shaking her head a little, she leapt off. Epstein got up, looking exhausted.

And Laplacia looked at him, then at Athrun and Ko with frightened eyes. Some distance away, Cartesia seemed not to have noticed anything. She was still throwing blades.

Athrun smiled to reassure Laplacia. "It's fine. You're alright, aren't you, Epstein?"

Epstein nodded, patting Laplacia on the head as she blushed, lowering her head.

And abruptly, Athrun turned to face the door and Cagalli fought back a gasp as she ducked, pressing her back against the door, afraid he would see her peering through.

His voice was cam and very mild. "Ko, have an early night. You deserve it."

"No!" The boy was protesting. "We only had one round! I can last another-,"

"That's too much in one night." Athrun told him, with a tone of finality that made the boy fall silent. "You did well, but I don't want you to strain yourself. Like I said, you need to build up your strength a bit at a time."

He turned. "Laplacia too- leave those blades alone for now. Cartesia, continue. I want you to perfect those throws by tonight. Take about two more rounds, then rest too."

"Yes, Mr. Estragon." There was a machine like quality to her voice.

Cagalli heard it and shivered a little from where she was. What was Athrun expecting of Cartesia, who was already throwing perfectly at a distance of twenty metres?

"Epstein," Athrun added after a pause, "Take a rest too."

"But that's after you open the door and invite our peeping tom in." He added as an afterthought.

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2 months. 29 days.

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	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD characters . R&R please.**

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**Here are the Q&As from the last chapter!**

1. "Why Athrun wants the asylum and freedom? Maybe to be with Cagalli? haha or he will stay in Plants after all of this end, I know I read about a House in France..but what he wants to with his asylum?"/ "Why does Athrun want an asylum?" (M.S Arashi Sumeragi/ ReaderOfThisStory)

_Refer to previous chapter- Athrun offers a reason, although the objective reader might suspect otherwise. For certainty, refer to future chapters. In other words, the answer will come- eventually._

2. Shout-out to Yourmostfaithfulreader and reviewers who kindly responded to him/her, all of whom I want to reassure, is definitely welcome to review (with or without the said email address attached)!

"You can hate me if you want. this is a free world." (Yourmostfaithfulreader)

_Gosh- I'd never hate simply because it was a free world. Nor do I hate because comments are unfavourable. That would be really puerile, I think. _

_So thank **you** for your reviews, and I sincerely hope you continue reading and reviewing with the suggestions some other reviewers gave on how to critique. I hope you understand that I personally welcome all reviews and have never discriminated against unfavourable ones- it's childish to. For me (and certainly for some other reviewers), criticism is only unacceptable when the opinions lack justification. Still, I'm still thankful you bothered writing in at all and assure you that I take no offence and I'd like you to continue reviewing. : )_

"Other people can read this post after all and my indiscriminate use of foul language is unforgivable."

_"Other people can read this post"- Well, that's the point of the review right? Reviewers can be judged by writers and even other reviewers, and the way one reviews is quite telling of the person's reading and comprehension abilities. (And that's at a minimum level!)_

_If someone were to point out flaws of any writer with good justification and persuasive writing, I think other reviewers would agree with that reviewer, regardless that it is criticism. Similarly, if negative comments come without support for the opinions, then it would then be open to criticism from other reviewers too, who might have supported their own negative opinions in more convincing and objective ways. Thanks to Tatoutattoo and abitofhappinesstoeat for pointing that out!_

_In fact, where earlier reviews of 'The Isle' were concerned, I've actually witnessed some reviewers criticising **positive** reviews others gave. This was because of the way the reviewer's reading was off-tangent. (i.e. the positive review had been given even when the reader had applied his/her own misconceptions of what was really going on in the chapter)._

_And rest assured, you were NOT using foul language. If anyone accused you of that, they shouldn't even be reading this The Isle! _

_But if what you wrote seemed foul to you, then I'm wondering why you wrote it at all (?) [unless you were intending to offend in the first place, which I hope wasn't the motivation for the review(?)]. _

_Besides, I personally don't see how your post had foul language. Still, if you (or anyone) think what you wrote was foul language per se then I don't recommend watching The Osbournes. _

Now _that's_ REAL, FOUL LANGUAGE.

3. "Yzak's brief but much loved presence is also greatly appreciated (am getting ahead of myself in wishing the fiancee mentioned is Shiho Hahnenfuss? Will you consider making a story about them? I love them together!)" (shioncagalli2317)

_Refer to chapter below. And yes, I love Yzak and Shiho too,(because they have matching bangs- no kidding!) and I have been trying to decide if I should continue or discard another fic that features them prominently. We'll see._

4. Shoutout to Cara410 because fanfic's PM-services are wonky:

_Thank you dear, and please don't feel scared to say anything because I've yet to see anything you say that isn't backed up/ presumptuous. I'm always looking forward to you R&R-ing!_

_

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Chapter 17

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"So you were spying on us." Athrun said mildly, closing the door of her room. He stalked towards Cagalli as she stood some distance away from him, feeling a bit threatened.

Guiltily, she twisted her hands, feeling rather helpless. She was aware of the fresh, clean sweat on his body, the way his scent was stronger because of his exercise. Her heart was beating fast, and she lowered her eyes, afraid to meet his.

After the aides had filed out of the training hall, each one giving her curious looks, she had waited for him to come out. The doors had closed, leaving Cartesia in there, who didn't seem to be distracted by anything at all as she continued massacring the wood targets. He'd walked past her, as if he hadn't seen her too, and she'd trailed after him, not knowing what to do.

Now, she was back in her room, and she looked at him, waiting for him to lash out.

His eyes were cold, and she seemed to have thrown away all the understanding that they'd established only so recently. And she knew it was mostly her fault.

"Don't look at me that way," Cagalli begged, still not letting go of him. "I only wanted to know why you were training those children to fight and kill. I couldn't understand why, and I just-,"

His words were uttered firmly. "You better eat your dinner before it gets any colder."

"I'm not hungry." She said in a low voice. "I just want to talk ."

He looked at her silently.

Cagalli looked at him unsurely. "You're angry with me, aren't you?"

In truth, Athrun had known that she would not stay in her room. Telling her to stay he knew, was like giving her a reason not to. But he had wanted this- he hadn't wanted to hide that from her anymore.

"I'm not angry," He told her mildly. "I didn't expect you to stay put anyway. Frankly Cagalli, I knew it was a matter of time that I'd have to tell you about them. So don't feel guilty even when you did sneak around and spy on us. It was in your nature."

"Besides," Athrun added, "Now I can punish you for disobeying me."

She felt warmth flush into her face as he turned her head to his, almost putting a soft kiss on her lips. She half-closed her eyes, preparing herself to feel his lips against hers, but he never did kiss her.

"Settle all you need to first." Athrun told her, abruptly moving away and standing up. "In the meantime, I'll decide about your punishment for disobeying me."

He smiled suddenly, an honest, entirely unguarded smile that evoked so many memories in her that she felt like she was torn apart.

After he'd left, Cagalli set to her dinner. She picked at it, unable to stomach much after she'd seen the way the aides had trained.

But even after seeing how frightening his aides could be, Cagalli knew she had come to accept Athrun. She knew he wasn't quite comfortable or assured, now that she had seen the aides with their weapons, but tonight, Cagalli promised herself, she would tell him at least this.

Cagalli wanted to tell him that it didn't matter what he was doing anymore. It only mattered that he trusted her, and that he believed that she trusted him.

As soon as she'd finished her dinner, Cagalli decided not to wait for him to come. She took a quick bath, freshening herself, and realised that as the days had gone by, she'd grown accustomed to all of this.

Athrun had been right when he'd told her that she'd learn how to live on the Isle all those months ago. While she hadn't believed him then, she believed him she entered his room, she saw that he had finished his bath too, and was sitting up in bed as usual, although he wasn't reading. A sense of familiarity washed over her, and eagerly, she moved to him.

But at the same time, she knew that she had to be careful. They were slipping into this pattern of routine, habit and assurance, and security with him was not something she should have felt.

His eyes were closed and his fingers wrapped around a thin champagne flute. A bottle had been opened, near the bedside table, and a small smile was playing on his lips. It was unguarded and a bit wistful, and Cagalli wondered what he was thinking of.

Now, Athrun opened his eyes, looking at her. Cagalli had put on her white silk robe again, and he could remember how warm she'd been those nights ago.

"You were taking forever." She told him reproachfully, taking the glass flute from his hand and sipping a little.

Without initiation, Cagalli slipped into his bed as he scooted over a little. And she cuddled up to him, bringing them even closer. He was aware of how frightening she was- how she could seem like his lover and how natural it seemed for them to be like this.

"Aren't you afraid to be here?" He said quietly. "You saw them-,"

"I'm not." She told him bravely. "I know you don't want to be this person you are to them. And I know they sense it."

She watched his eyes widen, and she continued. "Why do you think they respect you so much? Why do you think they do everything they can to please you?"

And not knowing what else she could do, Cagalli brushed her lips across his, and her arms drew tightly around him. She had meant to tell him that no matter what he did, she accepted him because she trusted him. While words failed her, she wanted to tell him still.

He suddenly broke their kisses though, pulling away slightly when she tried pressing herself against him as she tried to kiss him.

"What?" Cagalli said awkwardly, looking up at him. "Am I a bad kisser or something?"

"God, no." Athrun laughed. He smiled softly.

This was Athrun Zala, she still thought to herself then. This was the man who she could never forget, no matter if she'd tried to or wanted to. As she attempted to hug him, she ran her hands across his broad chest, enjoying the smoothness of his skin.

But he broke away again.

"Cagalli-," He held onto her shoulders, cutting off her protests and looking at her. "Is there another contract you want to make?"

Her expression fell and she shifted slightly. "I'm not sure I want to call it a contract- I mean,-, She looked up at him tentatively. "I'd like you to tell me more about you, about Epstein and the twins. But I know you'll tell me when you're ready. Besides, I'd want to please you even if you didn't tell me or chose not to. And this-," She looked at him pleadingly, trying to find the words but failing to. "It has nothing to do with our past contracts."

Athrun remained silent for a while, then nodded. "Then we should stop this. No more contracts on top of the existing ones."

"Fine," Cagalli said boldly, cutting him off because she was afraid of what she thought he would say next. She shifted slightly, her thighs brushing against his, and he had to bite back a moan.

"Hey!" He said sharply, "Didn't I just explain-,"

"Yeah, I got that," She replied teasingly. "This is for my disobeying you."

"Wait- ah-," His voice was quite representative of the discomfort that was getting to him.

"Or maybe I should have made it clearer, Athrun," She added, "I don't believe in owing anyone anything, and there's still that letter I haven't settled." Cagalli began lifting her chin a little, turning her head as if threatening to kiss him.

Half of her was afraid that Athrun would offer information without her having to trade in something for it, and she was afraid she would end up telling him of her feelings. But at the same time, Cagalli wanted to be honest with him.

In the meantime, Athrun was probably having another kind of dilemma.

She watched him panicking. Athrun shifted away, but she leaned closer to him from where she lay on the bed, but he held her away.

"I'm playing a zero-sum game when it concerns you," Athrun argued, "I end up getting addicted to being with you, and you always feel a need to know more."

Muttering something, Athrun got off the bed in a hurry she had never seen him in before. It made her chuckle, because he looked younger and more clumsy than she had ever noticed, and the steel in his eyes seemed to have vanished completely. Flustered, he rubbed his face with his hand and peered at her throw the crack his fingers afforded. Laughing at Athrun, she began to tease him.

"It's not like we haven't done anything before you know," Cagalli said huskily, watching him. "Unless you're telling me you didn't like it."

"Don't be silly," He said awkwardly. "I don't want anything of that sort now as your punishment, even if I did like it."

"But if that was fine with you, why don't you take me now?" She said softly. "It's not like I want anything in return this time."

He paused, but then shook his head. "I can't. It isn't because I don't want to or because I don't trust you, Cagalli."

His eyes regarded her gravely, and he looked so serious that she wondered if he was making a vow of sorts to himself and her. "It's for the same reasons I made clear to myself in the past. I want to understand you more- I want to know you like the back of my hand."

"That way," He said wistfully, "I won't feel like you were a stranger even when you leave."

Cagalli bit her lips, feeling somehow very touched. This wasn't the first time she had heard words like these from men, but hearing these from him meant so much to her. It struck her too, that he meant every word he was saying. Either that, or anything he said would be believable to her because she already had feelings for him.

But she had so much more to learn about him too, and she would be damned if she didn't find out. If she grew too attached to him for that, then so be it. If she had to be a fool, at least she was his fool, Cagalli thought.

"Alright." Cagalli agreed. She looked at him timidly now, losing all her nerve quite suddenly. "I'm not trying to make use of you. I admit I tried to- I wanted to. But I can't do that anymore because you aren't some stranger to me."

He didn't know why he refused, but it didn't seem right to take her then, when there were so many secrets left. Lyra too, was still a stain on his memory, although being with Cagalli now was healing him for that.

When he had left Lyra, Athrun thought soberly, she had blessed him and wished him happiness, whoever he was to find it with. And in some way, Lyra had led him back to Cagalli. He wasn't sure if it was fair that he felt even this kind of happiness by being with Cagalli.

But at least, Athrun realised, Lyra had been at peace for once.

He had no time to consider anymore, for Cagalli got off the bed and moved into his arms, beginning to undo his shirt again. She looked at him with half-lidded eyes and tiptoed a little, trying to kiss him.

How he was enjoying himself. She was doing the pursuing now, Athrun realised, and he was reminded of how direct she used to be in the past, how ridiculously, attractively careless she was in dispensing affection and telling him of her thoughts. With some surprise, he realised that she had finally been stripped bare of her walls and he'd found that she hadn't really changed in all these years. She was still his spitfire. She was reckless, no doubt, but that was why he'd been so taken with her. He'd never met anyone more foolish or lovely than her, and now Cagalli was before him once more.

The thought of that made him taut, but he ignored himself and said hastily, "You can't!

"Why not?" Cagalli said inquisitvely, and Athrun found himself relenting and confessing the truth.

"If you kiss me like that, let alone do more," He said drolly, "I'll go crazy. Don't laugh at me- I'll just break down."

"Alright," She said smilingly, grinning at how easily he could say these things and liking how natural she felt with him.

He ran a hand through his hair haphazardly and she studied him, admiring the muscle of his arms and how beautiful he was.

"I haven't had a woman in a while," He admitted, "And every time you come near me, I feel like I'm being driven up the wall. When you touched me the last time, I actually thought I was going to die. It's incredibly embarrassing," He said weakly.

She chuckled, although she blushed a little. "I could have said the same when you did-" Her voice faltered. "-that-," She cast her eyes down now, afraid to look at him. "I've never felt that before."

His eyes widened. "You mean nobody ever let you feel that before?"

She paused, then took a risk. "No. I just-, nobody's-," She looked down, unable to continue. "-I thought it was wrong."

"Oh," He said in wonder. Then his expression grew dark. "But it's not, Cagalli. Not when you want it and the person wants to give you pleasure. You wanted it, didn't you? I wanted to give it to you. And you deserve it- you deserve so much more."

She blushed even deeper, ignoring the small sound of protest he made as she pressed herself to him while pushing him down onto the bed.

He caught sight the beads of water trickling down the valley of her breasts and murmured, "All that's missing are those crabs."

"What?" She asked, not really remembering.

In response, he flipped her over, kissing her neck and whispering, "Remember the first time we met?" She remembered and coloured. "Oh. That. You remembered?"

He nodded. He certainly did. He had to. He could never forget.

He was only human, he thought desperately to himself, in love with another. Stripped of his his weapons, his defences and his sophistication, he was only the young soldier who had met the girl with hair and eyes like the sun. Nothing had changed. He had been unable to respond to her in the way he wanted to, and even now, he was wondering how to draw her near without losing his head completely.

"You called them stowaways, didn't you?" Cagalli laughed. She shook her head bashfully. "I must have embarrassed us both back then."

And suddenly, Athrun was not sure of himself anymore. If he had thought that he was in control of the present even if he hadn't been in the past, he was suddenly aware that the past hadn't gone anywhere.

She'd taught him to be Athrun Zala and not a mere soldier. Wasn't that the same now, even if she had forgotten what it meant to be Cagalli Yula Atha and not the Orb Princess? While with her, he wasn't the Fifth Eye, Rune Estragon. This woman wasn't a pawn- she wasn't just someone who'd disappear in the morning. At least, he didn't want her to be that.

"Cagalli," He said, raising his voice a little, "This is dangerous."

"I know." Her voice was quiet. "But that's why I'm attracted to you. That's why I tried to fight you, Athrun. Because I knew I'd become attracted to you, all over again. But it's pointless, isn't it?"

She kissed him quite suddenly, and he felt her tongue tease him.

Just like in the past, he had no need to show her tolerance, to be kind to her, or to even pay attention to her. But if he had been attracted to her as a young soldier, he was dependent on her now. One couldn't be wise and in love at the same time.

Now, Athrun moved to Cagalli, letting her circle him with her arms and pull him towards her. If he had been able to articulate himself then, he would have simply told her that he belonged to her. He always had. She had always left that mark on him that had sustained and tortured him in so many ways, and for her to acknowledge that gave him a joy that obliterated the pain that had once come with the ability she had given him- the ability to feel.

"I know what I want for your punishment." Athrun decided. "I want you to tell me about your childhood- all those embarrassing secrets."

"Hey, that's not fair!-"

He cut off her attempts to negotiate, and kissed her deeply. She responded eagerly, trying to dominate him. When he rolled over her, preventing her from doing that, she began squirming underneath him. Then like schoolchildren, they teased and chortled for no real reason at all, save that they knew they were at peace with each other.

Soon, they were play-wrestling, unashamed of their states, unashamed of how childish they were being. His laughter rang out in the room, and she was giggling uncontrollably now.

The air was cool inside the room as it played on their bared torsos. When they grew tired of wrestling each other, they lay on their stomachs, gazing at each other and laughing, as if one had told a joke the other had appreciated. The mutual understanding had deepened, and they spoke of unimportant things, a man and woman who were not really lovers and could never be. Nevertheless, they were equals- companions worthy of each other, two who were now beginning to understand each other.

They spoke of all the pets she'd found and tried to keep. There had been a cat that had run away after she had found it injured and cared for it.

"Ungrateful thing," Cagalli laughed, leaning forward and shifting her weight to her palms and arms that supported her weight, looking at him.

She kicked her legs in the air while she lay on her stomach.

He tilted his head, observing her, realising that she had changed since the last time he had seen her. That night, she had been frightened, unsure even. But tonight, she was no longer as hesitant. He liked it this way, Athrun realised. This was how it was meant to be with her.

Mildly, Athrun replied, "It probably had no affinity with the fate of becoming a pampered pet."

"Just as well." Cagalli conceded. "I wouldn't have been able to look after it."

"Why not?" Athrun questioned. She seemed like the sort who would substitute humans with animals to feel less lonely.

"Because it would need regular meals." She rattled off, ticking off the things that dogs needed. "And constant attention, despite it being a supposedly self-sufficient, selfish four-legged thing. Did you ever have a pet like that?"

"Hey, hey." He laughed. "Wasn't this supposed to be about you? Why are you turning the questions on me?"

She hit him lightly with a pillow snorting. "Oh come on, it isn't supposed to be a monologue, right?"

Athrun shook his head, touching her shoulders as he pulled her into his arms. "I never had a pet as a child, nor have I ever had one."

"Why?" Cagalli was curious. "Surely, a little prince like yourself would have every toy he wanted, and every demand met as soon as if fell from his lips?"

He looked at her with some cynicism. "Perhaps for you. You were the little princess, not me."

"Well I've seen your photographs with Kira," She retorted. "And you look like the sort who got spoilt. All namby-pamby with a beret that matches your vest."

He laughed good-naturedly, and she took his face in her hands, liking how open he was being with her. His eyes twinkled. "Far from it, actually. They were quite strict with me, especially my father."

"I don't believe you." Cagalli declared.

He chuckled. "But it's true! How do you think they convinced me to put on that ghastly mint beret? My mother said it matched my eyes, and when I wasn't convinced, my father just banged his fist on his desk and ordered me to wear whatever my mother thought looked nice on me."

"So you were a good little boy then," Cagalli smiled indulgently. "No pet as a reward for that?"

Athrun shook his head, drawing away from her suddenly. "I was denied a puppy I brought home from some dump one day. The irony was that my father claimed that he was allergic to animal fur- despite being absent from the home for most part."

His eyes darkened. "And he wasn't allergic to fur either. Turned out that he just didn't want me wasting my time, as he called it, playing with animals."

"What did you do with the puppy?" Cagalli said curiously.

"I was instructed to bring it to the pound." Athrun said lightly, although she saw something in his face numb before her. "I left it there. Never even got to name it, because my father said that naming things made one affectionate towards it."

"Well, that's not too bad still," She said cheerfully in her ignorance. "At least someone would be able to adopt it."

He laughed scornfully. "Did you think anyone did?"

And suddenly, she knew that the pound would not have told the young boy that the puppy he was entrusting to them would not be simply cleaned and fed.

It, along with so many other unwanted animals, would be put to sleep because the resources of the pound were already being overstretched.

He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "If you've never understood my father as a politican, Cagalli, then you're less likely to understand him as a person, let alone a child of his."

"But he loved you, didn't he?" She whispered.

He looked at her with that numbed mixture of disappointment, misery and scorn reserved for any mention of his father. "He loved me because of my mother. He made it quite clear from the start that I was supposed to be the final jewel of his portfolio- that I was dispensable anyway. I was a backup for him, and he knew that if I ever made it in life, it was because of him. Always his efforts, not mine. That's why he wasn't impressed that I slogged to become a Redcoat or later, a pilot. He had it all planned in certain ways- even if I hadn't slogged, I'd still have been brought into the elite. Yzak Joule knows that himself- as did Nicol Amalfi and Dearka Elseman. Why do you think my father denied me that puppy? Because Patrick Zala didn't need a dog, even if I wanted one."

She remembered what Athrun had told her during her first dinner here with him. He'd told her about the elite families of Plant, and how they'd have been elites even if they hadn't let for space. Everything was coming full circle now. But this time, she realised that his own involvement with that history was really the link between him and his father, or the lack thereof.

Still, Cagalli wondered if Athrun was wrong. Surely, parents all cared for their children in certain ways? But she saw how Athrun's face had become paler than ever, and she decided to broach the subject another time. She kissed his shoulder lightly, and felt him draw her nearer as he began to relax.

"What about other children back at the Plants?" Cagalli questioned. "Did their parents think they were too old for pets? I know that in your society, thirteen year olds are equivalent to twenty-one old Naturals."

"It's Coordinator law that we are considered adults when they reach thirteen." Athrun replied. "By the time I was thirteen, I was living alone, and I could have had a dog if I wanted. The problem was that I was seven when I wanted that puppy."

He reached over and began playing with a lock of her hair that had slipped past her ear, kissing the lobe tenderly and pushing her hair back.

"If a thirteen year old had his own property and wanted a pet, he could have one," Athrun informed her, "Just like how he wouldn't need his parents' permission by then. That's like how most twenty-one year old Naturals wouldn't have to marry or get a car with their parents' consent by that age."

"Drive!" Cagalli said in amazement. She shifted back to look at him.

"I took lessons at twelve and started driving officially at thirteen." Athrun told her, "And I crashed into a random fire hydrant that promptly became a fountain. But I was still legal."

He shrugged, looking at her and grinning that smile of his quite suddenly.

She laughed with him. "So, what else do thirteen year old Coordinators do?"

"The usual things." Athrun replied distractedly. "Most pursue higher forms of education and the rest find jobs."

She gave a low whistle and marvelled at this, even though she had heard and knew of such a society before. "I was still schooling when I was thirteen."

"Schooling in the convent as part of your finishing education, right?" He said curiously. She shifted a little, feeling a bit uncomfortable with that bit of her history.

"Actually," Cagalli said warily. "I don't think I've told you that before."

"No, you didn't. I found out from Lacus." He lied smoothly.

In fact, the Numbers had some information about Cagalli that even Athrun realised he knew little of when he'd been given those files. And even then, those were incomplete databases about her. Now however, he had her in his arms, and if he played his cards right, Athrun realised, she'd tell him everything he needed to know.

Unaware of his thoughts, she accepted his embrace and closed her eyes, basking in his warmth.

"I convinced my father to let me learn in a school." Cagalli said hesitantly. She was suddenly aware that she had never really spoken of this to anyone. Nobody had ever asked to know who she had been before she had become the Orb Princess.

"I'd only been home schooled up to that point, so I thought it would be good to go and see what I could of the world. My father let me go eventually, but it was all undercover, of course." Cagalli said reminiscently.

She tapped her fingers absently on Athrun's other arm. Already, she was using one as a pillow, and now, she used the other as a drum. He laughed, pulling a lock of her hair lightly, in retaliation.

"I didn't want to be home schooled for all my life- I wanted a nice, common public school where I could be normal for once. My perception of a public school was very Enid Blyton-ish, I'm afraid."

Cagalli buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled. "I thought school would allow me to try studying with others, participating in lacrosse, winning matches while nursing a sprain and getting friends who had their own quirks and idiosyncrasies and horses."

She laughed awkwardly. "That sort of romanticised bull."

"And then you were sent to a convent." He announced dryly. "Shock of the century?"

"Yes," Cagalli admitted, lifting her head and looking at him. "It was still a rather posh, finishing private school- a convent, actually. It wasn't a school for normal girls."

"So no lacrosse, no pink lemonade, no tartan skirts, no horses, no pets, no communal vegetable garden." Athrun ticked off.

"Well, there wasn't any of that, not even a vegetable garden. But there were loads of those green patches. There was this gardener though- this rather handsome young man whom the girls used to fight over. Never even learnt his name." Cagalli said absent-mindedly.

"Unbelievable." Athrun laughed. "He was the only worthy male specimen in a whole field of females and you didn't remember his name?"

She chuckled. "Really. Well, other than him, it was no man's land. The matron and all the staff were all nuns. There were a few males, but there were all ancient professors who were about as virile as amoeba."

"No fear of any sexual harassment then," He said dryly.

Cagalli squinted at him. "Yeah, but there was that kind of sexism I had to get used to."

"It was an all-girls convent!" He said in amazement. "How do they discriminate then?"

"The usual," Cagalli said comfortably, suggesting that she'd long become used to it even if she hadn't quite accepted it. "But you have to understand who these girls were. They were as rich as you can imagine. There was this girl who felt really out of place because her father was only a millionaire. That sort of thing. They liked to talk all day long about fashionable clothes, movie stars, the only good-looking male in the school grounds, the nuns being old crusty women who couldn't get laid- you get the picture."

"It was filled with normal girls then." He said objectively. "Who happened to be filthy rich."

She replied a bit reluctantly, noting the amusement in his face. "I wouldn't say that. A few of them were very down-to-earth, but that was all in private when I got to really know them. Most of them kept with appearances."

He raised a thin, quirked brow. "Appearances?"

"I mean," Cagalli said defensively. "How else can you behave when you've been born into riches? Most of the girls went along with how they were treated normally as daughters of tycoons and royal-bloods, so on and so forth. There didn't seem to be any other way to behave- speaking in posh accents, ordering others around, the whole works. And that's the whole point, really. Most of them were sent to finishing school to learn to be social butterflies. And the nuns and professor kept stressing that to us- that as ladies, we had to be concerned with appearances and manners and all that, because that was what our lives would be all about."

"And were you on good terms with these girls?" Athrun asked interestedly. He had never heard her speak of her experiences in school before. Nor had those files recorded any of this, even if he'd briefly read that she'd attended some posh finishing school before sneaking off to Heliopolis for some unknown reason, then apparently making it back to Orb before running off to some desert again.

Cagalli grinned. "Very good terms. Would you believe it? I still keep in contact with some of them, but they're all seeing or married to rich husbands and changed a bit."

"Did you all learn that from finishing school?" Athrun asked sarcastically, being unable to resist a barb. "How to get a worthy husband?"

"Actually," She said simply, ignoring him. "We all knew how to play the game even before we entered finishing school. We behaved in classes, learnt social etiquette and the role of women in politics and those sorts of useless things without so much as a whine or complaint during the classes when your manner of holding a teacup was scrutinised."

"That's useful." Athrun remarked. She looked at him in approval, and they both cracked up.

"If we had rebelled openly," Cagalli told him "The nuns would have waged war against us. They had a huge, knobbly walking stick with a pink, frilly bow tied around its end. Its name was Cathy-Anne. Cane, for short."

Athrun allowed himself an uncharacteristic, rather open snort.

"I got punished quite a bit." Cagalli told him.

He noticed, with great amusement, that she said this proudly.

"Once, I was late for class and I had to kneel for three hours in the confession room. And there was another time when I corrected a sister, who complained to the Head that I was being impudent. I got locked in a cellar for a whole day. That was the most minor form of punishment, by the way. The most popular one was being told to go into the chapel, to kneel in front of the cross half naked, and to flay oneself with the whip."

"You don't seem to be the sort who would have stood for that kind of oppression." Athrun pointed out.

"None of us were, actually. But we all rebelled in different ways." Cagalli admitted. She buried her face near his shoulder, recalling those old days. "I and a few others insisted on asking questions about politics rather than the woman's role in politics, and the nuns had to single a few of us out and put us in separate lessons. They had no choice but to cater to what I wanted to learn, since that was the nature of a finishing school."

"So you ended up learning more than you should have ever bothered with." Athrun said matter-of-factly.

She nodded with some rather justified pride.

"And that was your own way of rebelling, wasn't it?" He realised. "You went into a system that was supposed to teach you to be a pretty, empty-headed doll, but you learnt politics while in it."

Cagalli laughed, lifting her head and turning it to look at him again. "I'd like to think so, yes, and I'd be flattered if you thought so too. I suspect my father thought I'd be so fed up in there that I was determined to learn every single thing I could."

"Other girls too?"

"Well, the other girls did rebel in their own ways. Not all of them could accept their fates as pawns of the upper society."

He laughed as well. "Tell me what they did."

"When class was over, nobody bothered listening to the nuns' warnings against the world beyond the gates of the school." Cagalli said conspiratorially. "They just did what they wanted to do, and they had the money and mobility to support it. Can you imagine a fleet of cars parked in cubed slots?"

He nodded. He was fascinated by everything that Cagalli had never told him of before, enthralled by how much he was learning about a person who he was supposed to be a stranger to.

"That's what the area near the school field looked like. Nearly all my classmates drove their own cars. Those who didn't were chauffeured anyway. There was even this girl who sat behind me- she used to jet over weekends and model for one of those Parisian couture houses."

"Funny," Athrun remarked, "I'm surprised you didn't kick up a fuss about being sent to one of those posh finishing schools."

She grinned. "It was rather like a compromise- my father allowed me to get out of home-tutoring, but I could only go to that sort of school. I was disappointed, but I thought I'd learn more about the world than if I continued to be home-schooled."

Athrun himself had been sent to private schools for all his life, save pre-school and the Coordinator equivalent of universities in Earth Alliance what he understood of schoolgirls did not depend on whether they were from private or public schools. Schoolgirls talked the hind legs off donkeys and flirted with every boy that caught their eye- it was their way. Convent girls however, were not exactly schoolgirls. They were worse.

They were notorious for being the wildest girls in town as well; behaving as though they'd never seen boys before, which was probably accurate.

Yet, Athrun could hardly imagine Cagalli comparing notes on what to wear and which was the latest fashion boutique in town. He wondered if she had blended into a school like that.

"Your father must have taken great pains to make sure that you behaved yourself like the other upper-class girls." Athrun considered.

"Mostly so," She conceded. "He always stressed the importance of putting one's toes behind the line, although he never really practised what he preached."

Cagalli frowned to herself. "But it wasn't so bad because nobody had seen his heir in public before. I was introduced as the daughter of some oil tycoon, and nobody really cared about the details in a school filled with billionaires' daughters and that sort of people."

"I never knew that." Athrun said honestly and in surprise. Even the files he had gotten on Cagalli had not prepared him for what was to follow.

"My father's name was never brought up even once, since I did care enough about his reputation to come out with a perfectly clean record." She said proudly.

"Perfectly clean." He echoed, his lips twitching. She glared at him.

"Mind you, I was a very well-behaved girl; for fear that my identity would be brought up one day and used against me. Next to the others, I was very tame."

"What's our definition of tame?" Athrun said archly. "The tiger you see in the zoo? The one that looks bored while the keepers feed it- the same one that mauls the keepers for fun one day?"

He looked at her hair and eyes, the gold that caught the light and seemed to be flaming, and he thought of her temper and spirited nature. He thought of how she'd touched him and how bold she could be, and he had to fight back a shiver of anticipation.

"Let's just say that the upper-class convent girls were some of the most badly-behaved teenagers I had the pleasure of meeting." Cagalli said bluntly. "Parties, drugs, casual sex with one fling after another; they had everything, so they tried more. I had a shock when I first attended."

He kept quiet, thinking of how the Zaft barracks had featured the same disillusioned, quietly desperate and uninhibited youngsters. Maybe they were all the same, he thought wistfully. They'd all wanted one last chance to live before they died.

"Once, I snuck off to the gardens once to get a breath of fresh air but found a whole group having a smoking party in the greenhouse. And there was another time I walked in on a classmate and the gardener. They were fooling around-," She broke off, blushing.

"Maybe it made sense to live like that, in some perverse way. Going from party to party, boy to boy, weekend to weekend. My father probably wasn't aware of what the girls really did outside classes. Either that, or he took a gamble and supposed that I would emerge quite alright."

"And he never made it known that you were sent to that school?" Athrun asked interestedly. It had never made sense to him that her going to that school had been part of the classified information files.

She rolled her eyes. "He didn't even reveal who I was until I graduated from finishing school! The media hated him because he refused to let them in on his private life, and by extension, mine."

"For your sake?"

She snorted. "It wasn't for my sake, that's for sure. Even before I came into the picture, he was a tough nut to crack. But the media still tolerated him because he knew when and where to ham it up."

His own father had been that way too, charismatic to the point of being slightly flamboyant in the political arena, but silent and grave in his own home.

"Uzumi Nara Atha wasn't exactly a pawn of the government, unlike many of the Orb nobles before him." Athrun said thoughtfully. He thought of how Uzumi Nara Atha had set up weapon factories in Heliopolis despite claiming to follow strict ideals that were based on Orb's foreign policy.

She nodded. "I think so too. When the Orb Council of Elders in charge of the Orb nobles asked him to marry at the stipulated age, he entertained a few choice candidates, and then backed out on all of them quite suddenly."

Athrun had heard something of this, but hearing it from Cagalli herself was another matter altogether.

This was the missing bit of the puzzle, he realised. This was the gap those files had never filled. He stared at her intently, listening carefully.

"It was mayhem every time." She revealed, laughing a bit. "Kisaka told me that the Lord Atha put off weddings for nearly five years before he went and adopted a child at the age of twenty-nine. It was way past the stipulated age, but my father somehow managed to get away with it for some time because Orb had been distracted by the then-political events. And he only adopted to satisfy the clauses the Orb Council of Elders was threatening him with- the law that the Head of Orb must have an heir that can succeed him or her."

"And that child was you." Athrun confirmed. No doubt, Uzumi Nara Atha had bent, if not, broken the rules.

Now, however, Cagalli dropped a bomb.

"No, actually." She admitted. "I wasn't the child my father chose to adopt. He wouldn't have adopted a girl, that's for sure. It was just by accident."

"What?" His voice rose in disbelief. Athrun himself had often pondered over Lord Atha's choice. The choice heir was usually presumable to be male. The fact that Lord Uzumi had chosen a girl had seemed to be a matter of spiting the Council on purpose.

"He had asked for a baby boy, which would make more sense than getting a girl as the heir to the Atha name and Orb's power." Cagalli told him. "But the orphanages were not told who was adopting because it was a top-secret operation."

"I sense sexism in here." He muttered.

Cagalli sighed, looking at him. "Let's face it. If he had a son, the son would have had fewer problems getting into politics and all that. Say what you like about gender equality- it remains that women are seen as less competent in politics."

He coughed back his laughter. "The Orb Council of Elders must have had a field day when you arrived."

"Maybe the orphanages didn't think much of the matter, since anyone could be adopting anybody." Cagalli considered. "They probably didn't even look carefully at the specified criteria the Council had set in secret. They probably said, oh choosy, picky adoptive parents again and picked out the first baby that was available. That's why my father and the Council never got a baby that looked anything like what they'd specified for."

"They sent a girl." Athrun said bluntly. "They sent you."

"The Council was confounded," Cagalli admitted, "And there was a restructuring after the incident. I heard the intelligence officers who made the mistake of miscommunication were demoted and placed under a lifetime vow of silence where the adoption issue was concerned."

Athrun realised the implications of letting loose lips exist. "It would be unwise to let Orb and the rest of the world think that Lord Atha was shirking his royal duties of producing an heir by adopting one."

"Exactly." Cagalli agreed.

"Couldn't they send you back?" Athrun said, more curious than ever to hear what Cagalli had decided to reveal to him. He felt a surge of tenderness and empathy for the little child who had been caught in a tidal wave of politics and intrigue, swept to a place without knowing why. The child had grown up to become the Princess of Orb.

The child then was the woman lying next to him now. And surely, the same emotions she evoked in him now were borne in Lord Uzumi when he had looked at the child then.

She shook her head, and the light swung off her hair, illuminating her head. "They wanted to. The officials posing as the adopting couple were instructed to try and convince the orphanage to take me back. But it never happened."

"Why?"

She looked at him, smiling pensively.

Her voice was very soft. "The council was still trying to find a way to send the child back without revealing that the real adoptive parent was Orb's head. But the orphanage was not willing to take the child back when there was no real reason the supposed couple could offer. The council could not come clean about the whole issue either. Kisaka tells me that my father was enraged when the mistake was made. I think he very much wanted a son- or as little mess as possible where the whole issue was concerned."

From the nervousness of her body, it looked as if she was still trying to come to terms with whatever she was going to tell him.

"Besides, the Elders had already given him grief over his decision to adopt, and getting a girl instead of the intended boy was even more of a problem. So he refused to lay eyes on the child that had arrived at the Atha Manor, but the housekeeper saw to the child personally. The housekeeper had been Mana at that time."

There was a line that connected them now, an invisible thread that wound around their forms, and he wondered if he had ever known so much about her.

He wrapped her in his embrace, wanting to keep her warm.

She grimaced. "At that time, my father fell sick with the flu and was resting at home instead of being at the office. Apparently, he woke up when he heard a baby crying and shouted a few times for the housekeeper, but nobody had been around then. So my father had gotten up and stumbled to the kitchen. He found the child in a cradle there. Of course, it was the wrong child he hadn't even set eyes on yet."

"And Kisaka told me," Cagalli said in a hushed voice, "That Lord Atha picked the child up and eventually wanted the child he hadn't meant to receive."

"So you stayed there from then on, growing up in that estate." Athrun murmured.

He rolled to his side, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to do the same so that they faced each other now.

They were both huddled together, but he felt that he had grasped something of her that only he knew of, something that he would never want to let go of.

"He cancelled the Council of Elders' plans to send me back," She said numbly. "And in the same week, the Council of Elders' spokesperson announced to Orb that Lord Atha's daughter had been born. The identity of his wife and the child was never revealed, but their presences were presumed from then on. He was too popular and nobody really protested or asked for evidence of his marriage and the child that had been born. So I grew up in that estate. I never really left it, because there was no need to."

Athrun remembered the Atha Estate. It was a bit of a small island in itself, a large house, large enough to fit thirty people quite comfortably, with a gazebo, a sizeable forested-area for riding and hunting. Of course, Cagalli Yula Atha had famously banned hunting of any sort whenever she held any soirees in her estate, or rather, when she was obliged to.

It was a beautiful estate, Athrun knew. There was even a small tributary of the main Orb river that flowed through the estate, a little spot they'd often taken walks by in their time together when he'd been Alex Dino.

"It was a world in itself." She said quietly, sensing his reminiscence. Her expression was a bit wistful. "And even now, it remains that way."

She looked back at him, smiling lightly. "While I was growing up, Kisaka was promoted to the head of Orb's national security council. Apparently, the paparazzi used to trail around the estate like scavengers, looking for anything that suggested a child's presence. He'd frighten them away, I heard."

"I've never seen any photograph of you as a child." Athrun agreed. "Because of the security and secrecy?"

"Yes. After a few years, the paparazzi didn't bother. Most of Orb didn't really quite care who Uzumi Nara Atha's heir was as long as there was one." Cagalli sighed. "And even when he never appeared to have married, the paparazzi assumed he had married in secret and quietly too. It's not uncommon in Orb if the council advices the noble to marry that way."

The council was made up of nobles themselves. These were nobles who had given up their power in order to give impartial advice for the currently ruling nobles and by extension, Orb.

"Why do you have to listen to them?" Athrun asked abruptly. "I know it's the law to heed their advice, but surely there are some decisions you must make for yourself?"

She shrugged. "There's enough decision for the nobles to make the decisions that matter to Orb. Besides, there's such a high level of secrecy in the name of impartiality, that I've never met some of the key leaders of the Council of Elders even once. It'd be difficult to convince them all that they were wrong on any issue without disobeying them outright. You see, they make their own decisions, then rely on one spokesperson. This spokesperson then advises the current Orb nobles who still hold power. The same spokesperson controls what's put out to the public that concerns the Orb nobles. Currently, this spokesperson is Siegfried Rohm- the person who reports to me at times to suggest actions the Council advises me to follow."

Athrun understood that it wasn't merely a suggestion but an order for most part. He was aware of such a deep level of control of the royals, and he understood that it was for the sake of the public anyway.

If the royals, who had all the power in Orb aside from the elected government, were to run amok with their spending, their social lives, and make poor choices where their life-partners were concerned, Orb would be thrown into problems.

"So it is this Council of Elders that decides when it is best for the nobles to appear in public, get married, have heirs, all of that." Cagalli said wearily. "But it seemed that the then-head of the council was personally involved in my father's wishes to adopt a child. With the head's approval, my father was allowed to adopt instead of having to marry. The whole process was never made public at any one point."

"So entering a private school was relatively easy, considering that you had been hidden for twelve years." Athrun concluded.

Everything was fitting together now, he realised. This information she had given him plugged all the gaps that had ever existed- filled in all he had ever wondered about her past.

She nodded looking up finally. "I managed to complete schooling at one of those high-class convent finishing schools without revealing my identity. But it wasn't that difficult anyway. Nobody was interested in anybody except themselves, at that school. I wore an expensive uniform like all the other girls, I had pierced ears, and I liked sports cars even if I didn't care for fashion."

"Some similarities with those brats then," He chuckled.

Cagalli shrugged. "Overall, I was like them, I was considered rich, had a decent allowance, and was therefore considered normal- even if I rode a bicycle and didn't have my own chauffeur and limousine. I wasn't a freak, and I fit in. Nobody's really interested in who a person appears to be as long as they fit into the mould of what's acceptable."

It occurred to him that there was irony in her words without her realising it.

"And what about now?" Athrun said intently, staring at her. "When the Orb Princess returned during the First War and became who she is today, did anyone in Orb bother looking deeper?"

She bit her lips, dropping her gaze.

"It doesn't matter," Cagalli said fitfully. "The Council of Elders is supportive of me as long as I do what's best for Orb."

The Orb nobles had relied on this Council since time memorial. Everything of their social lives was to be planned and allocated in a way that allowed the greatest good for the greatest number.

When Lord Uzumi had been asked to marry, it was at a time when Orb was prospering and political votes were most likely to be secured with an apparent heir.

His eyes fell to Cagalli. She, by Fate's hands, had become that child.

And he recalled the short time during which he had been her bodyguard. No wonder, so many had praised her beauty and intelligence with exclamations upon her return to Orb, as if they had never quite met her before. She had always been awkward with being introduced as the Orb Princess.

He had thought it was simply awkwardness in general, but clearly, he had been wrong.

Why had he never pieced all this together?

No wonder, a few looked at her with slight scepticism, as if they were not sure if she was the Orb Princess who had lived in secrecy for most of her life. No wonder that Cagalli had not been used to being introduced as the Orb Princess.

And Athrun was glad then, that he had decided to play her game. While they seemed to be a merely pitiful act of what lovers were, at least, he was lying next to her now.

Even if this was merely his duty to make her stay, at least he had learnt something about her that would have been impossible to gain otherwise.

For that, Athrun decided, he would not dare to hope for more.

* * *

_The day Athrun Zala arrived for Erlich Hoffman was exactly a week since he'd traded in his identity to become Rune Estragon._

_Athrun sat, as strange to the boy as himself, looking at the boy standing in stiff salute. He looked like his mother in so many ways, Athrun marvelled. So much like his mother. There was little of his father in his face, but as Athrun had understood it, Erlich had a head for figures. And despite his age, Erlich's height was quite considerable, and it reminded Athrun of his father. _

_Now and then, Erlich took a few shy glances at him._

_"At ease." His superior was speaking in a clipped tone Erlich recognized as awkwardness and some fear._

"_Yessir." Erlich dropped his hand and it trembled a little. _

_The man Erlich had seen once in Zaft records and in war history textbooks was drinking tea, gazing at him in a particular manner that reminded Erlich of a fox. Athrun Zala, son of the infamous Patrick Zala, last member of the Zala House, had exceptionally green eyes._

_While Erlich was aware that anything could be done with technology these days, he was still intrigued by the shade of emerald in that cool stare._

"_Why don't you take a seat?" The man said quietly, but with an affable quality that Erlich found quite arresting. "It makes me uncomfortable to see people standing when there are seats for them."_

_This person was probably more charismatic than any man or woman that Erlich had met. Erlich was struck to hear how composed, how incredibly articulate this soldier was. Even some officers Erlich was under spoke in grunts, but not this man._

_Already, the contrast between his officer and this man was growing wider and wider. The superior took a napkin and wiped his damp forehead, looking ill at ease as the boy took a seat._

"_Tea?" Athrun Zala asked courteously. "And sugar too, I insist."_

"_N-no, sir- it's fine."_

"_I insist." Athrun Zala told him, with a firmness that seemed strange for someone so refined to look at. "Milk?"_

"_Yes, please, sir." Erlich's voice was a squeak._

_They watched in silence. Erlich wondered how this man could be inviting a mere grunt to partake of his superior's private stash of sugar cubes, milk and Earl Grey. _

_The superior didn't seem to mind though. He was still staring at Athrun Zala in a fashion that reminded one of a hypnotized animal. _

_Then Athrun Zala regarded Erlich for a moment, the tea sloshing into the crudely-fashioned cups, but the pourer doing such a beautiful job of it that the tumbler may have well been porcelain. Erlich noticed that Athrun Zala took no milk or sugar with his tea._

"_Now," the officer said hurriedly, uncomfortable with the same silence that Athrun Zala seemed so at ease with. "Cadet Hoffman, I'm sure I need not make any introduction as to who this esteemed visitor is. I'd rather leave you to get to know each other better-," He stood up, still mopping his soaked brow. _

_Within moments, he bowed very low, saluted, bowed again, and scurried from his own office into the boiling heat of the outdoors. Erlich was remarkably reminded of a rat scurrying back into darkness.._

"_Well then," Athrun Zala said mildly, turning back to Erlich Hoffman, as the door shut. "I suppose I should introduce myself and hear about you as well."_

"_No sir!" Erlich's voice was modulated entirely. "I cannot trouble you- you need not explain where you are from, or who you are- and I'm not to waste your time."_

_In his fear, he began to babble, assuming that he'd been called in to see this presumably higher-up, ace soldier for some punishment he didn't quite deserve. "I haven't done anything wrong, I swear sir, I didn't-,"_

"_Calm down." Athrun Zala said in surprise. "Nobody's punishing you for anything. Besides, I resigned from Zaft quite some time ago. Didn't you know that?"_

_Erlich's widened eyes gave Athrun Zala his had been rumours that Athrun Zala had been kicked out of Zaft after the Second War after defecting to fight on Orb's side, but nobody really knew. He wasn't wearing the Orb uniform, Erlich saw. But then, he wasn't wearing a Zaft uniform either. He was clad in a dark suit- civilian garb. There was nothing official that he'd heard about Athrun Zala after the Second War anyway._

"_So that's how it is, eh?" Athrun Zala muttered quietly to himself. "Maybe they were expecting me to return here anyway."_

"_Pardon?" Erlich said shakily, not really understanding or hearing properly. _

_But now, Athrun Zala only shook his head, smiling a little. "Nevermind about that. My name is Athrun Zala and I'm twenty this year." He said this genially and unassumingly, as if Epstein wasn't expected to know who he was._

"_Yessir." Erlich said unsurely._

_Athrun Zala's eyes softened visibly as they passed over the boy. "Of course, this name will soon be of no relevance. In a few months, you address me as Rune Estragon."_

"_Why?"_

"_Not here." Athrun Zala said firmly, looking at him with those emerald eyes that reminded Erlich of forests. "But soon, I will inform you of the details."_

_He had smiled suddenly, a guarded but nonetheless, warm smile that had comforted Erlich, as much as Erlich didn't want to admit it._

"_What was your childhood like?" The man inquired, folding his hands deftly. _

"_Can't remember." Erlich muttered, both embarrassed and still mistrustful. His heart had begun to beat fast. Who was this man to ask?_

"_On record here," Athrun Zala said clearly, gesturing to a file, "You were born in Germany. You lived with your father even after your parents separated. And then you were left in an orphanage as a toddler when your father found himself incapable of looking after you. You were sent to a few orphanages before ending up in one, where most of your primary education was received." He held up a file that summarised most of Erlich Hoffman's life. "And from what I understand, you've held a few jobs before you were summoned to the Plants. This was shortly after the Second War."_

"_Yes." Erlich mumbled. That information had been yanked out of him when he'd wanted to enlist in Zaft._

"_Do you know who arranged for you to be sent over to Zaft?" Athrun asked._

"_No."_

"_So they didn't tell you," Athrun thought to himself. Aloud, he addressed Erlich, who was looking rather unhappy. Privately, Athrun felt sorry for the boy._

"_It was an officer named Arthur Trine." Athrun informed him. "Have you met him before?"_

_Erlich frowned. "I've seen him here and there before. He was always kind to me-,"_

_He stopped himself, but he had already implied that not every officer had been kind to him. Athrun seemed to have caught the implication, for a sad smile tugged at his lips and he nodded, understanding immediately._

_A rather mature coordinator, Erlich thought to himself. Even for a twenty-year old. Gulping, he stared down at his trembling hand that had been pressed to his knees as he half-sat, half-stooped, embarrassed of his height, which everybody inexplicably liked to comment on. _

"_How old are you this year, Erlich?" Athrun said gently._

_The boy looked a bit lost, but then blurted out eventually, "I'm fourteen this year."_

_He didn't bother telling the man that it was an estimated age anyway, but something must have been obvious in his half-truth._

_For Athrun Zala looked carefully at him and said, "I think you're closer to thirteen, despite your height."_

"_Y-yes sir." Erlich had said unsurely. He wasn't sure either. Everyone always commented on his exceptional height and assumed he was about fourteen, but Erlich wasn't sure himself._

_Of course, Athrun hadn't told Erlich that he'd been doing his own estimation from the documents he'd been given._

"_Please drop the sir, Erlich." Athrun said mildly. "I don't like it. Returning to the subject at hand. I will be your instructor from now on. You will be serving a very specific duty within Zaft. You will be discharged of the current one from this moment onwards. Clear so far?"_

"_Yes." His eyes widened. Was this why his superior had been forced to leave the room?_

_Athrun reached into his coat pocket and took out a letter. "This is the authorization letter from the relevant authorities of Plant and Zaft. With this, I am your legal guardian." He looked at Erlich ruefully. "I'm not much older than you, but I'm above thirteen whereas you may or may not have passed that legal age of discretion."_

_Erlich nodded hesitantly. He had long forgotten his birthday._

"_Of course," Athrun said briskly. "Our ages don't change the fact that I have the legal duty to protect and care for you."_

_Erlich coloured. His fists clenched beneath the table, and the looks of pity the prospective adoptive-parents had given him loomed in his head. He had never been wanted, so now the law was ordering this man to be his guardian._

"_I don't need your protection." Erlich spat._

_Athrun stared at him and slowly nodded. " I meant no offense, but I apologise if any was taken. I'm not here to patronise you, Erlich. I'm here to be your guardian. This duty is one that was both imposed by the authorities and myself."_

"_Yourself?" Erlich said, confused now._

"_You see, Erlich," Athrun said very gently. "Your mother, in a way, entrusted you to me."_

_The boy stared, not really understanding._

_At that point in time, Athrun had stared at the boy, thinking of all the letters that he'd locked away. The boy before him would never really know how pained his mother had been when she had decided to return to the Plants for reasons Athrun could only guess of. _

_Nor did the boy know that Athrun had already been in a contract when he had met him. __Athrun Zala, unbeknownst to Erlich Hoffman, had entered a contract with Plant's Supreme Council and Zaft to train the boy- the boy would learn how to fight and to pilot in a private space for three years before Athrun Zala would be discharged of his duty to Plant and Zaft._

_Athrun Zala was to shape this boy into a machine for Zaft. Athrun was forbidden to tell the boy anything he knew, and in some ways, Athrun agreed it would only trouble him. The boy would become a man that obeyed orders and forgot what it was like to have a home or human warmth. _

_He would become Athrun Zala._

_And for that reason, Athrun had not burnt Talia Gladys' letters the way his superiors had instructed him to. He'd kept them hidden within a safe outside the Isle, back in the Plants. One day, Athrun was sure that Epstein would read those again and understand why his mother had abandoned him, and in doing so, remember what it was like to love and be loved. _

_But up to the point when Athrun had met Erlich, all the boy understood was that he was the son of an alcoholic who had always been distant from his mother and him. The only father that the boy knew of had not loved him. The boy had naturally locked his father away as a memory not worth recalling. _

_His mother, on the other hand, was someone the boy remembered as a generous, rather firm but exceptionally genteel woman. And that was why he could not forgive his mother for leaving so suddenly, even if she had written letters that proved how much she missed him. _

_Of course, Athrun reflected while looking at Erlich before him, the boy had been in orphanage after orphanage. He'd then trawled the streets of Berlin, working through his childhood, squandering his years with the waiting. The aimless, disappointing gnaw of waiting was something that Athrun understood and would sympathise with the boy for. _

_Erlich had not known his father, a man who married a woman he loved but unrequitedly. He had been too young to understand or empathise with his legal father, who had sensed that his son was not his._

_The boy had not understood his mother either, a woman who had been forced to marry to give her son a name. The boy had not understood the woman who had broken a thousand rules and defied a hundred more obligations to have a son she hid away from his real father and the world she really belonged to._

_Athrun however, had the benefit of reading certain documents. Those had been collected from a rather mystifying range of sources.__From Talia Gladys' few but valuable possessions, there had been photographs of a past she'd once shared with Dullindal. They'd met in one of the top universities of Plant, months before Dullindal had started his internship under Kira Yamato's father and creator- Dr. Ulen Hibiki. _

_While Talia had dropped out of the bioethics course, she'd continued dating Dullindal and visiting him in the research labs. It was then that Athrun had finally understood why Talia Gladys had met and looked at Kira with that strange familiarity and sadness in her eyes. _

_After all, Kira resembled his mother more than his father._

_And from a forgotten letter-box in a small abandoned apartment that Talia Gladys' husband and her son had once lived in, there were certain letters that had been faithfully written, delivered, but never read. __The letters that Athrun had gotten hold of were certainly telling of Talia Gladys' inability to love her boy the way she wanted to. She'd been to ashamed to tell her child of the truth._

_Naturally, this boy had certainly no idea that the father who had been unable to love him had really been a bitter man, aware that his wife's son was not his._

_Naturally, the boy did not understand who his mother really was- he did not know that her heart was split between her son and the father of her child. And he did not understand that when faced with the death of a man whom she had loved very deeply, her death had seemed the only way of redeeming herself._

_Nor did the boy understand that when she had seen the man she loved dying with Rey, who had reminded her of her son, she had chosen death because it seemed like the only way to end the lifelong heartache._

_In other words, Epstein had no idea that he was the son of Talia Gladys and Gilbert Dullindal._

* * *

The next day, they set off for the hills.

It had begun with the morning, when Athrun had awoken to feel a little cramp in his neck. It should have been an omen, but he didn't realise it then.

Massaging a crick in his neck, he had yawned slightly, stretching and then finding a warm mass curled next to him.

He'd then tried to get off the bed while untangling himself, and proceeded to roll off with very little grace, landing on his, well- dignity. He'd stood up, stretching a little, smiling at how small and compact Cagalli looked with her arms around herself because she'd sensed the removal of warmth when he'd gotten out of bed.

They'd talked late into the night, and they'd proceeded to drop asleep. The recollection of that had made him laugh a little to himself, and he looked at her. Cagalli had been sleeping very soundly, and there was something incredibly childlike about her posture and her expression.

Admittedly, he had grown used to her presence at night in an incredibly short space of time. Her soft body enveloped around him, her breasts and abdomen a soft pillow, her arms and the sweet musk of her body blanketing him-

He'd blinked blearily, then blanched. It struck him then that he had to be very careful.

Then Athrun had left the room and moved down a passage. There was the work schedule he had to meet up with, but for now, a cup of strong tea or coffee was entirely necessary.

Yawning a little more, he had wondered if he ought to call for Laplacia or Cartesia.

But Athrun had considered the workload they had each day, and decided that if he couldn't get his sleep, then he was not about to deprive them of theirs.

Yet, the pantry hadn't been as quiet as he had expected it to be.

Now, Athrun stood, staring at his aides.

Epstein was wearing a spare apron, and it was rather too small and rather too frilly. But in it, Epstein was just as competent as in his business suit.

Athrun then blinked a few more times, but in surprise at the sight of his aides already hard at work preparing a rather marvellous looking midday meal. He couldn't have overslept, could he?

Athrun squinted out the eastern window, seeing a pink glow. No, it was still early morning.

"What's all this about?" Athrun said blearily.

"Lunch, Master." Cartesia said blithely. She was slicing tomatoes with enough precision to make him wonder what she was thinking about while she cut vegetables.

"Yes, I can see that with the rather heavy-going wieners, but what I meant was that it's breakfast time." He said wryly.

"Oh, we got breakfast ready too," Laplacia said, giving him a dazzling smile and gesturing to the freshly-baked strawberry tarts. "This is for you to take along. Miss Cagalli likes strawberries, so these will be nice."

"What are you going on about?" Athrun raised an eyebrow, putting a hands on his hip in consternation. How was it, he wondered distractedly, that even the rather apathetic twins were so fond of Cagalli as to know what she liked and to go out of their way to make sure she got it?

"You and Cagalli are going out today." Epstein said crisply, flipping an omelette expertly while Laplacia caught it marvellously with a plate.

Athrun looked at his first aide, wondering if he was getting too old for all this nonsense about surprises.

"Why wasn't I informed about this?" he groused, feeling irritable.

He realised that he was still in crumpled clothes and bedroom slippers, and the sight of happy aides did nothing to make him happier.

"You're going out!" Cartesia chimed. "And having a holiday!"

"And who decided this?" Athrun said savagely, trying to make his fringe sit down as it bristled with the morning and his irritation.

"Me!" Epstein sang.

He cracked another egg and it broke and began to fry with an indignant sputter. Athrun felt like the egg understood him better than his aides at that point.

"I decided that you both need a day off. We're sending you out for a leisurely morning walk and a nice picnic lunch," Epstein explained, patting a bagel shut, while it threatened to collapse with the sheer amount of ham, lettuce and whatnot under it. "I thought it would be the perfect way to help you make up with her after what happened yesterday."

Athrun paused, finally understanding Epstein's motivations. Epstein had probably thought that Athrun was upset that Cagalli had disobeyed him and snuck to watch the aides training.

"And pray," Athrun said drily, "What makes you think we need to make up?"

In fact, Athrun was only stopping short of asking how Epstein had the right to make this decision. Even in his grumpiest moments, Athrun refrained from being patronising, because it reminded him of that specific class of people he disliked with great enthusiasm.

"Well, if you like her, you shouldn't quarrel or allow a fight to fester on." Epstein said blithely. He paused and mouthed at Athrun with a hand near his mouth, "Or you won't get any."

Athrun just blinked, trying to decide if he should feel exasperated, touched, irritated, amused, or just plain confused. For the time being, confusion was gaining an upper hand.

"And you thought I didn't need to be informed about this?" He inferred.

"No!" Epstein replied in a tone so cheery that Athrun was certain it had to be illegal somewhere for anyone to be that perky at six in the morning. "We didn't want you to worry."

"First things first." Athrun made a beeline to the cupboard where the tea was kept. There was the evil otherwise known as morning, and Athrun was in no mood to negotiate without conquering the morning first.

Once he was situated with a scalding cup of strong, black tea between his hands, Athrun felt slightly more capable of approaching a day that apparently was already planned out for him. "What brought all this about, anyway? Surely not just the Orb Princess' appearance yesterday?"

"Yes, actually." Cartesia said directly.

"Epstein said you both weren't friends anymore because she disobeyed you and came to see us training." Laplacia said, smiling her fresh, trusting smile.

Athrun looked at Epstein quizzically who only shrugged and said, "Isn't that true?"

From what Epstein and the aides had last seen of them, why, yes, it certainly had that impression. But why, Athrun groused, did they have the right to interfere?

"And as busy as you've all been, you and Miss Cagalli haven't had much in the way of time for proper courting," Cartesia chipped in, stuffing more things into the picnic basket.

Athrun stared at her, a hand scrubbing the cliff of his face with a sigh. "And what makes you think we're courting?"

"But the Orb Princess sleeps in your room-," Laplacia's mouth was promptly covered by a flustered Epstein, and Cartesia giggled, giving the game away.

Epstein's face was slightly red, and he had a rather guilty look on his face.

Laplacia, her mouth covered by his palm, was still mouthing god-knows-what conclusions she had reached from the information Epstein had provided.

Athrun shrugged, although he felt distinctively embarrassed.

Perhaps he shouldn't have implied that his captive was now his mistress to Epstein. Epstein, being as close to the twins as it were, would surely have confirmed curtained things with them.

For the twins who were mere children, to be aware that Cagalli had moved into his bedroom- Athrun felt his ears going red, and was glad that his hair covered those.  
"It's a busy day," Athrun reminded Epstein pointedly. "Not a holiday."

"Don't be such an old man. The Seventh Eye and I can handle that just fine," Epstein replied, beaming indecently at him. "I've already called him over."

The last of Athrun's self-control vanished.

"You did what?" Athrun sputtered.

He set his cup down, cursing colourfully as he burnt his fingers a little. Then he remembered where he was, and looked guiltily at the twins, berating himself for having sworn in front of them.

But they looked at him with evil little smiles, and he shuddered.

So much for setting a good example for them when Epstein had been left in charge for most part.

"He's coming soon.' Laplacia beamed. "And he's bringing Boarbaki."

Athrun sprang out of the chair he had settled in, staring wildly around, expecting Tom to appear with a giant slobbering mass of fur."Alright, that's enough. Call them up and tell them not to come. We're not going _anywhere_-,"

"I just explained that you needed to take a holiday." Epstein said with that illegally cheerful grin. "No excuses now, sir. You've got to get out of this musty old manor for a while, so go enjoy the summer air and all of that."

"How do you want me to have a break while the princess runs around in the open?" Athrun said through gritted teeth. "It's the hills I know, and there will still be more birds and wild creatures than humans even after we show up. But what if-,"

"She won't run away now," Cartesia piped up. "She's your girlfriend right?"

"She'll stay with you." Laplacia insisted, smiling mischievously. "And if you get her into a good mood, she might even let you-,"

Promptly and once again, Epstein's hand clasped itself around her mouth while she muffled something, her eyes staring at Athrun.

Athrun looked at his aides in horror, and thanks to his control, managed not to colour to his face. His ears however, were burning.

"Anyway," Epstein said hurriedly, letting go of Laplacia once he was sure she would not say anything that ought not to be said, "Go enjoy the day."

And the twins winked at Athrun, too young to understand, but old enough to know a little and to imagine a lot.

Athrun glared at them, exasperated, not knowing how to broach the subject or explain it.

Epstein, apparently, had been telling them about embarrassing things about grownups that Athrun had long avoided broaching with his youngest aides.

Athrun could teach them anything from rifles to arithmetic, but he sorely wanted to avoid the topic of birds and bees.

Epstein, apparently, had taken this upon his own shoulders and informed the maids of what grownups did when they were both in the same bedroom.

And yet, Athrun could not clarify what was really going on either. It was just as or even more awkward than giving his aides the impression that they currently had. So Athrun, realising that he could not argue with them, merely smiled tightly.

Inwardly, he was making a silent entreaty to whoever might be listening that the house would at least still be standing when they arrived home.

Tom had a talent for mayhem, specifically, creating mayhem. Athrun, on the other hand, preferred order and was an expert at getting people and things that way.

"You know," Athrun said weakly to Epstein, "I don't want to go. And even if I did, I don't want the Seventh Eye around here."

"Oh he won't be bored," Laplacia told them brightly. "He said he'd love to keep an eye on the house while Epstein did your work."

Athrun felt his knees going weak.

Tom he loved experimenting with fireworks, spray cans, chemicals and gunpowder he stole from Barnett- all just to 'rough things up a little' and that beast Boarbaki-

He imagined a wild, gambolling mess of curls and spray of slobber, a rough, wet tongue the size of a child's hand, getting in reach of everything, the garden being uprooted, his files being ripped-

Oh god, Boarbaki.

"I'm not going," Athrun insisted, squaring his shoulders and standing at his full height, which admittedly looked quite impressive as he glowered down at them.

There was a horrible silence as the three of them paused and grinned at him.

It was only then that Athrun realised how he had no say in this at all.

* * *

An hour later, Athrun wondered how he had lost control over his aides. Other Eyes, he grumbled silently, would never have tolerated such behaviour.

"And there's going to be good weather, even for two days straight, I've already checked." Epstein's voice was blithe enough for Athrun's irritation to be roused. He wondered if he ought to interrupt, but felt that that would be even more awkward.

He snuck a look at Cagalli and saw that she looked visibly excited, even if half her face was blocked by a black scarf.

When he'd re-entered the room and woken her up, she'd stirred and then opened her eyes, looking at him. In the light, he had noticed how pale she was, and how long she had gone without being in the sun. The gardens and stone tower could not satisfy someone like her. So Athrun had decided that she deserved to get out for a while. He'd whispered to her that he was bringing her somewhere, and he saw her eyes blink once and then light up.

That was worth it, Athrun decided, never mind if Tom brought his motley crew and turned Athrun's manor upside down.

At present, Cagalli sat next to him, trying to control her excitement. Her vision was blocked again, by the black scarf he'd tied around her head. Athrun sighed inwardly, regretting this but knowing there was no other way.

They were in an inconspicuous looking car today. Technically, a normal, navy-coloured car would not have attracted any attention, but its solitary state in a clearly rural scenery made it conspicuous. An eagle flying overhead might have perceived the blue spot to be prey, moving in the midst of golden fields and flourishing barley.

"Okay back there?"

Athrun answered, because Cagalli didn't seem likely to. "Yes. Are we there yet?"

"Not yet." Epstein said happily. "But soon, we will be."

Cagalli was sitting at the extreme end of the seat, keeping very quiet. Athrun knew it was her lack of vision that made her feel vulnerable, but she'd have to wait it out. Comfortingly, he took her hand in his and felt her fingers tighten around his own.

Then suddenly, the speeding car jerked to a halt, and the car tilted, enough for Cagalli to fall towards him, making a small sound of fear.

He reached out instinctively, willing to catch her, but she righted herself even while the car was at a strange angle, and while doing so, she caught the wind out of him.

Blindfolded, Cagalli addressed the car window with a muffled cry. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," Athrun panted, short of breath from her vicious elbowing.

They paused, the car stopping.

When Epstein hurried to open their door and they got out, Athrun blinking in the sunlight, Cagalli still blindfolded, Epstein gave Athrun an unmistakeable wink.

Perturbed, Athrun wondered if he ought to tell Epstein that they were not fighting. Even if they were, what Epstein had just staged would have been unlikely to create a make-up scenario.

The wind was all around them, and they had scarcely any time to react before Epstein called out, "Fetch you in a bit!", threw some things out, and made a getaway.

"Make sure Tom doesn't touch anything!" Athrun shouted at the retreating car. He wasn't sure if Epstein had heard him. The dust testified to the speed Epstein had drove off at, and it was thick enough to block even Athrun from hearing himself.

Epstein too, was unlikely to have heard that warning.

"Now," Athrun said sardonically, turning back to Cagalli, "Let's try and enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

He heard her laugh a little, then smilingly, he took off the blindfold. She blinked in the sunlight now. Then happily, Cagalli turned and stretched her arms out, feeling a breeze rush onto her skin and the sun's warmth flood over her.

Athrun bent slightly, then stood, raising the picnic basket in his hand.

The grasses blew long and gracefully in the constant winds, and the fields everywhere seemed to be a lush green carpet that they were components of.

"There's probably water in here and more than enough food for lunch and snacks." He observed. "Or maybe just half an elephant."

Cagalli chuckled, then looked back to bumpy gravel road they'd travelled on. Epstein's car was nowhere. Her expression grew concerned. "Are you sure we'll be okay alone like this?"

"Yes," He said, trying to reassure himself too.

She was dressed for a picnic, as was he. For once, Athrun had no say over his own clothes or hers, although he could not complain. The maids had laid out a rather comely, cream muslin blouse and skirt for her, an ensemble which bared her arms, though they'd supplied her a wide-brimmed, straw hat. From what he could see, Cagalli cared little for it. It bounced ungratefully on her back, secured around her neck with a string.

He had his loose, off-white shirt untucked. The shirt-sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his seldom-worn jeans were brushing against the grass- after all, there wasn't anyone to bother with how less than formal attire. Clearly, the aides had taken everything upon themselves.

Cagalli marched forward excitedly, then turned around to confirm that he was still behind did not occur to her that she wasn't going anywhere in particular, it only mattered that she continued to walk forward, somewhere, anywhere. "Come on! Come on!"

He grinned, turning back to the endless fields.

"We might as well." He said patiently, "There's nobody here in this place except us. Epstein won't be back until- well, until he comes back."

Athrun raised his head and looked around, then pointed up and far off. At least Epstein had dumped them in a place that was familiar to Athrun.

"Do you want to try scaling that?" he asked, indicating the near-mountainous grassy hill that loomed over a small village.

"Is that a dare?" Cagalli said mock-haughtily. "I'll have you know that I ran away to join a desert resistance at one point, you know."

They both laughed.

The world around them beckoned to be tasted, and he knew she could not resist. Slowly, surely, he was crushing her will to leave, and they both knew it.

The subtle, constantly-changing hues of saturated greens rippled as a breeze caressed the grass, allowing a lighter contrast to the richer smatterings of green where coniferous groves dabbed at the upper slope.

Further down to the base, however, trails of vivid orange, red, saffron and even suggestions of purple stood out as the deciduous trees flaunted their autumn attire.

Cagalli studied it, feeling a little dubious. "Do you think we can actually make it up there?"

"It's not far," Athrun considered, "We should reach the top just in time for lunch. If nothing else, we'll have worked up an appetite. We can make it back down here by dusk. "

Now, Cagalli reached to the hat, putting it slowly to her head. And as she did, he came closer, putting down the picnic basket and helping her tie it securely.

She lowered her head, her hands around the wide brim of the straw hat shading both of them, and without knowing it, he bent closer to claim her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut and she willingly tilted her lips to his.

She couldn't resist him, Cagalli thought. She just couldn't. And this, how close he was now, the earthy smell of his body, the traces of aftershave, spicy and warm in the heat, her own feelings for him.

The kiss did not come as a demand, but it was slow, tentative and tender. This had been what he'd missed all this time, he realised.

His unconscious efforts to avoid the memories of all those years ago when he'd first kissed her were discarded now.

Courting, he thought for a split-second, allowing a small smile that she did not see. That took time. That took feelings, that took understanding her and himself. Had he ever bothered, even where Lacus was concerned?

If one considered flowers as courting, then yes, he'd bothered because it only seemed right. But emotional engagement-wise, it had been obvious that they were too similar, too suited, too bored by each other's politeness.

He studied Cagalli, whose expression was now blocked by her hat. She had probably been embarrassed by the slow, tender kiss he'd given her, and Athrun realised she must have felt that crippling grip of familiarity that he'd felt to.

He wondered what she was thinking as they began to tread through the fields. At the same time, Athrun wondered when he had ever wondered about what a woman thought.

The wind whistled cheerily and Athrun's mood lifted.

Courting eh?

He would have to repay his aides.

The scale up the hill was tiring, but they were sufficiently fit and enthusiastic to reach the summit. They made less progress over the next few hours even as the horizon swelled, showing them increasing angles of their surroundings.

As they neared the summit, they passed by a small grove and she discovered what she thought was an old homestead.

The fence's remnants sprang up from the untrimmed lawn here and there, overgrown with creeping plants and lianas with slightly fuzzy leaves and minute little white blossoms.

The derelict, crumbled little house still stood, its red bricks faded, the roofs sagging with age and weathering. The front porch of the house allowed a tumultuous trek across jagged plank to the large hole where a door had once saluted its owner.

In a few windows, tattered remnants of the previous curtains fluttered like moths, greyed with age and exposure, attracted to light, but unattractive in the light.

Cagalli lingered on. "I wonder who used to live here."

Athrun stopped walking, looking back at her, then to the house, or what she thought was a house.

"They must have left for a less inaccessible place," he replied, shrugging slightly. He was keen to avoid that place at all costs. He knew who had lived there, and why it had become what they were seeing now.

"I know." She walked closer. "Why'd they leave? It would have been a quaint living area."

Turning back, she looked toward the view to make her point, admiring the view.

"I don't know." He walked back to her side, although he was less than willing to. "They could have died, or maybe they decided to live closer to town. Perhaps their only well dried up, or the yield was only enough for basic sustenance, or the winters were unbearable. Or it could have been for any one of a hundred other reasons."

"Really?" Cagalli said curiously.

"Perhaps nobody had ever lived in it." He said vaguely.

He turned to move on, but she suddenly started and said loudly, "It was a church, wasn't it?"

So she'd noticed the cross, tiny but noticeable, on the apex of the roof. His lips tightened and he shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Don't you want to see what's in it?" She questioned curiously, already making as if to find the entrance and go in.

Athrun caught her arm though. "What about the hike?"

"Oh," She laughed. "Sorry. I get distracted easily, don't I?"

They began to move uphill again.

The stream was rather large, and it gurgle and leapt in its course. And it was very deep. If one got caught on the wrong end of the current, it would be difficult to ensure personal safety.

The rocks didn't look comforting either. But in the sunlight, in such good weather, everything was simply picturesque. Besides, Athrun was walking some distance away from the river, away from its currents.

Cagalli was too engrossed in her new surroundings to notice anything other than that the homestead was a church. She certainly did not notice how silent he was being as she whistled, for it dawned on her that she did not really know where she was going, and following him would be the best bet.

Athrun, however, knew where this place was.

He'd married Lyra here.

* * *

A hundred trees, three glimpses of deer, and twenty-minutes of Cagalli's excited chattering later, they'd reached the summit.

"We're here." He said simply, setting the basket down as a dutiful wife might have, except that he did it with the ease of one who was in control of the world below him. And what a world it was!

It was difficult to tear her attention away from the valley below them. Individual trees, tiny by distance, bent and blended together like carefully-juxtaposed paints on an artist's palette.

The sheer abundance of orange and ruby shades, aligned with a treasure-trove of green tones from grassy plains made the occasional conifers look even deeper in the lowlands.

"Do you like this place?" He asked, a small smile glimmering on his lips as he watched her.

The offerings of fields and the winds sweeping far beneath them intensified the joy Cagalli had almost forgotten. Peeping through the saplings was the adjacent river, and the world below and beyond was silent save the birdsong and whistling breezes.

"It's lovely up here," Cagalli said quietly.

He looked at the awe on her face as she stared beneath them, and he chuckled. "Did you forget what it was like to see the seasons change?"

Cagalli shook her head hesitantly. "Not exactly. I was thinking that it was spring when I was on the SS Rafael."

His voice was sober. "It's almost the end of summer now. Autumn's coming."

She was silent, staring into the distance, and he was worried that she was entertaining thoughts of running. Dressed as she was, she would not survive the night, let alone wolves if they were lurking around. But his fears were unfounded, for she turned and smiled wistfully at him.

"I've actually never seen the seasons change before." Cagalli told him pensively. "The desert had its own kind of beauty, untameable and even cruel, but this-," She trailed off, sitting down. Then she began drawing her knees up to her chin, still staring at the scenery. "I'm glad I'm here today."

They spread the food on the blanket. There was so much to eat and drink that it seemed like they would gorge themselves to death. Bagels with fresh tomatoes and chicken, cream cheese, iced cucumbers, pickled greens, a butter cake with a dash of rum, beef slices with honey dressing, fairy cookies with white icing-

They fell upon the food. Athrun watched as Cagalli set herself to it, and laughing at her clear enjoyment, began to tuck in too. And thus, he began eating with gusto that surprised her. Cagalli asked inquisitively, "Is the food better up here than in the house?"

He nodded, busy with a bagel. She grinned, enjoying his satisfaction with the food as much as the food itself.

By the time they were full, Athrun was groaning.

"I'm going to explode." She exclaimed, sitting up a little straighter and beginning to rummage for the paints and canvas that had been packed in.

"I'm exploding first." He said with some difficulty, feeling strangely heavy. "Look- you can get up and get your paints, but here I am-," He groaned.

Cagalli was already sprawled on the large blanket, dissolving some of the paints with water from her tumbler. Her fingers were wrapped around a fine brush, and she was dabbing quickly, almost carelessly.

Athrun knew that she was relaxed, so relaxed that she could paint in front of him like this. And he felt joy enter his veins, a quiet pleasure entering him insidiously.

As he watched her contentedly, she began painting, letting little specks of orange dot against the green of the fields. The spontaneity and energy she transferred was astounding to watch, especially when he considered that she had no formal training. Or perhaps, this was precisely why she could do this without a care or rule in her head.

If he was careless, he would become too relaxed around her, Athrun reminded himself. But for now- just for now, he wanted that.

He leaned over her shoulder, smiling as he heard her chuckle and then frown as she tried to regain concentration.

Already, the painting looked like a collage of powdered jewels, vivid in her depiction and not an exact copy of the landscape. He admired it, although he did not say anything to make her embarrassed. Athrun knew she was exactly the sort who would feel pressured and stop the minute anyone told her she was doing great. As a child, she had not thrived on that kind of attention.

When she had finished, she washed the brushes with some stored water, and place the mat aside with the small square of canvas to dry. Those dried relatively quickly, and he sprawled out on the large blanket, extending one arm perpendicular to the rest of his body, inviting her into his embrace.

She hesitated, but set the things aside and meekly, like a wary cat, approached him on all fours, and then laid stiffly near him, accepting his arm as a neck-rest. He smiled reassuringly, and she shifted a little nearer to him.

Then they lay on their backs, facing the skies above them, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her in a protective circle.

There was something natural about this, something that belonged to the world around them. It had started with her pointing to one cloud that looked a bit like a goat, and he had rolled to lie at the angle she faced to see it.

She'd shifted her head to point better, and she'd ended up laying her head on his shoulder. It was clear that she wanted to have him hold her, to treat her like she belonged to him.

They lay in a lazy, comforting silence until Cagalli spoke.

"May I ask something?" she whispered.

"Go ahead."

Cagalli hesitated. "Did you come to the Isle willingly?"

Beyond them, the golden spearheads beckoned in the breeze, and the shade of the trees dappled their bodies with light and shadows. Athrun, she could tell, was thinking of how to say something.

And Athrun quirked a tiny smile, despite the tension in his body. "That doesn't matter now."

Instead of setting her at ease, Cagalli became more agitated. She shifted, raising herself partially to look at him.

"You've been here for nearly seven years now. There are so many others you might have had, even now. Why do you want me then?," She looked miserable, "Are you trying to take revenge for how I treated you?"

Athrun's expression grew serious. "I never meant for us to grow close, Cagalli. I tried to prevent that. But it's true that we ended up like this even though those years passed. And it's true that I feel safe around you and want you to think that of me too."

"You feel safe around me?" she echoed softly.

"You won't betray me," he replied, stroking her long, golden hair idly. "Trust isn't something I think of anymore. In the course of these seven years, I trusted very few people."

"But Athrun," She said wildly, "I've made use of you so many times, and escape from the manor- even this-," She gazed around. "If I tried to escape-,"

"You won't do that anymore." He said decisively. "You would never do that, because we understand each other now."

Biting her lips, she looked down, nodding. It was true. The thought had certainly crossed her mind, except that she realised it was quite impossible since Epstein had needed a car to get here. Besides, she had no way of knowing where to go.

Moreover, Athrun was here, and she instinctively wanted to stay by his side.

His eyes met hers. "I don't want anything anymore except peace for the rest of this time. That's all I've wanted for a very long time. With you, I have that. I want to feel the way I do around you as the person I am with you. I'm happy enough as it is."

"How can you say that?" She asked sadly. "You only have me here because you brought me here in the first place. You know I'd never leave Orb to come here and find you if you hadn't brought me."

He reflected on this, then pulled her down to him again. "That's true. But I still have you here don't I? It doesn't matter why or how that came to be. I've never been happier in a long time. So please-," Athrun gazed at her. "Stay."

His arms came around her, holding her close, and she bent into his arms, nodding. He'd ordered her not to escape before, but now he was ordering her to stay. He was pleading with her.

And in that moment, she truly believed that he'd brought her here for his own reasons, no matter whose instructions he'd been acting on in the first place. Athrun had always hinted of it, and now she wanted to believe him- that he'd wanted her here in the first place; that he wanted her to be with him.

"I'm afraid of so many things, Athrun," she admitted, her face buried against his neck. "I'm scared I need you more than I realise or know, and I'm scared to think of the future."

His fingers gently caressed her cheek. He could have said the same. Her next words mirrored his thoughts, and he knew how similar they really were in their fears.

"I don't know what's happening around us, the world, even us. You were supposed to be gone, and I was supposed to be stronger than this, strong enough to not need anyone anymore." Cagalli muttered. "And now I'm here, and I'm dependent on you for protection, against things I don't even know about, things you won't let me know about. How did that happen? Now, I don't even know what to expect."

He didn't know how to allay her fears, because those were his own. Gently, Athrun craned his neck around Cagalli's, nuzzling her, and carefully retracted his arm so they could face each other. "I don't want you to think of all that anymore for the time we have left."

"This feels right," she whispered. "But I don't know anymore."

He smiled, closing his eyes as he wrapped arms around her. "Then you'll have to make do with what you know. When someone held you like this, you felt safe, didn't you?"

"You're the only one who's held me like this for so long." Cagalli confided to him, trying to tell him what she really meant.

"Then they were fools." Athrun said quietly.

He was stoking her hair very gently, almost imperceptibly. Lulled by the soft cries of the wind that fanned her hair and across her face, protected by the warmth of his body, she fell asleep, amidst the green and golden grasses and beckoning barley.

* * *

In the meeting room of the Plant Supreme Council chambers, Kira Yamato sat before the Chairman of Plants, Eileen Kanaver and the Head General of Zaft, Yzak Joule.

If Lacus Clyne had not been Kira Yamato's wife, she would have been here as the Head Diplomat of Plant and the one representing their foreign affairs. But she was currently in a nursing home, due to give birth in a week's time. Yzak Joule had been elected to take on her job, which was telling of Plant's message to Orb and the Earth Alliance if they considered joining forces to accuse Plant of anything

The sight of Yzak Joule here reminded him that Lacus was still in the nursing home, and Kira was aching to see her. But Kira focused on the people before him, willing himself to concentrate. Eileen Kanaver's expression was worried, and she looked more tired than Kira had ever seen her. The whole ordeal was certainly taking its toll on the world, not just Orb.

Yzak Joule's voice was brusque, but that was not uncommon. "When you say that Zaft needs to be on standby, are you saying that you think Orb _wants_ to go to war?"

"Yes." Kira found no need to be less than direct. "I am not keen for war, but Orb is. I am but a Proxy, and I am finding it difficult, near-impossible actually, to reason with Cagalli Yula Atha's parliament."

"Proxy Yamato," Yzak said curtly, "There have been allegations from both Orb and the Earth Alliance that Plant is involved with the Orb Princess' disappearance. I find it ironic and even laughable that you are now asking Plant for help in the investigations. I find it ridiculous even, that you would even think that we'd want to get involved with Orb and the Earth Alliance at all."

Eileen looked at Yzak concernedly. "Now, Head General, don't be so harsh on the Proxy. He was once a colleague of yours, you know."

"I stand by my words." Yzak said coolly. Kira understood Yzak's message- that currently, Yzak saw Kira as an Orb person, not a Zaft colleague, let alone friend. "If Plant chooses to get involved, we have a lot at risk. If we choose to help and send in Zaft troops into Scandinavia, we would only do it on goodwill."

Eileen nodded, looking at Kira. "We would only do so to help the Earth Alliance and Orb sort out its problems by clearing the air once and for all. This would mostly be for foreign relations' purposes. There is no international treaty binding us into this, and even if there were, we'd be able to decline. And with good reason!We would be insane to send in people to take on problems that are not really ours, especially if Orb is likely to turn around and accuse Plant of being the real perpetrators. I have decided similarly for Earth Alliance, which has already approached us for help."

"I understand." Kira said steadfastly. "I have already convinced the Earth Alliance that has chosen to represent Scandinavia, as well as the Orb parliament, to pledge full support of the help Plant and Zaft will give us. I think that is the only way forward."

"Not just that." Yzak told him, clearly keen on pushing the deal. "I think it would only be fair if both superpowers grant the Plants immunity from the international courts where this whole slate of events are concerned."

Kira had expected this, but he decided to test the waters. "If Plant has no involvement in this, why would it fear the international courts' questioning?"

"Because we don't want to get involved in a squabble more than we have to!" Yzak said fiercely. "Plant and Zaft should not have to help and be doubted for it! And clearly, Orb and the Earth Alliance is not really trusting of Plant to help out in investigations, is it?"

"What the Head General means is that Plant doesn't have an obligation to help when there's no evidence suggesting we are involved in the Orb Princess' disappearance." Eileen explained. "The Plant Supreme Council is rather against the idea of entering into a conflict it really has no part of."

"If Plant chooses to, again, I repeat, we do it out of goodwill." Yzak said firmly. "And if we do, I think we should not have to have our actions questioned by the parties we are helping, or by the international courts."

Kira nodded, knowing he had to accept then. "My parliament and I have already agreed to this. We will do as you say."

"Fine," Eileen concluded, standing up and walking forward. She nodded at Yzak. "Thank you, Head General, and you too, Proxy Yamato." She looked at them ruefully, "I must move off now and leave you two."

When she had left, Yzak turned to Kira, frowning slightly. Yzak took a while to gather his thoughts, and when he did, his voice was less curt.

"Are you alright, Kira?"

Kira sighed, sitting down and shaking his head, rubbing his face with his hand. "I think so, Yzak. I'm just a little tired."

After the First War, they'd both established an uneasy truce. But after the Second War and the aftermath, their friendship had grown strong and they'd always quietly supported each other. When Yzak Joule had become the Head General weeks after the battle at Messiah had ended, he and Kira's to-be-subordinate, Shiho Hahenfuss, had spoken up for Kira when he had joined Zaft and become the General of Defense and Technology.

At that time, there had been protests from the other soldiers. Kira's motivations for joining Zaft were allegedly to be with Lacus Clyne. While there was nothing particularly wrong with that because Kira was himself a Coordinator and had the right to enlist in Zaft, many soldiers were displeased at his immediate ascent to a prime position. But Yzak had become head general by then, and his speaking up for Kira Yamato had silenced many critics, as had Kira's subsequent performance.

Now, Yzak went to pour two cups of coffee, moving before Kira to place a cup there, then resuming his seat with his own drink. "Here."

There was a firmness that still suggested warmth and strength of character, and Kira sensed that Yzak was shedding the business-like manner he always maintained his impartiality with. Smiling wanly, Kira accepted the drink.

"Don't be too worried about the Orb Princess," Yzak said quietly. "She's a strong woman. She'll know what to do."

"If she's even fine at all," Kira told him wearily. He took out the letter he'd folded and put into his coat.

When he handed it to Yzak, Yzak's eyes widened and he took it, scanning through it quickly. He studied Kira. "Do you know who sent this?"

"Not at all." Kira said heavily, looking back at Yzak steadily as well.

Both of them looked at each other, not saying anything.

"If this is not forged," Yzak said slowly, dropping Kira's gaze first, "I think you've made the right decision in asking for Plant to work with both superpowers. But what I am saying is in my capacity as a friend, not as member of Plant's Supreme Council or the Head General of Zaft. "

"I have no choice but to assume it is," Kira told Yzak. "And it seems more likely than not that this letter is from her. We won't be going public with it though. There'd be too much outcry and uprising from the Orb citizens."

Yzak looked at him gravely. "Wise decision. I say this as the proxy for Plant's Diplomatic Relations. But personally, I wish I could say the same about you giving up your post to be the Orb Proxy. It's not going to be easy to get back here into Zaft. Even now, your decisions you make in Orb's best interests are being criticised by Orb, despite you doing your best."

"They practically worship her, that's why." Kira said objectively. "And the media has been playing on that."

Yzak shook his head. "Haven't you considered gripping down on the media?"

"It was very well controlled before she vanished," Kira recalled. "One of the most regulated media-systems in the world where it concerned politics, the law, and the maintenance of harmony between Coordinators and Naturals."

"The state prosecuted quite a few people after the Second War," Yzak nodded, remembering how Cagalli Yula Atha had used sheer wit and will to regain control of Orb. "Those were people accused of acting subversively and all that- those who had the tendencies to speak out against Coordinators or Naturals, depending on what they were themselves- all of that. She was also the one who approved of the Media Act that allowed parliament more than a little control in what Orb citizens could publish, read or say about Coordinators and Naturals."

Kira nodded. "At that time, there were criticisms that she was being too harsh just for the sake of maintaining Coordinator-Natural harmony, but I suppose that reinforced the fact that Orb did not want discrimination of that sort."

"That has worked to its favour where investments from both Plant and the Earth Alliance are concerned." Yzak concluded. "Those people had to be gotten rid of anyway."

"Those weren't the only people the State prosecuted though." Kira told him. "When there were people who spoke out against what the government was doing under her, she enacted certain bills to legalise their banishment from Orb."

He looked dully at his hands, wrapped around his cup. "Some of them were actually anti-Coordinator extremists, who regrouped outside Orb and found a way back into Orb. They tried to assassinate her on her twenty-second birthday."

While Yzak had long known of this because of the investigation that had been carried out, he appreciated that Kira was telling him all this, for it was clearly an emotional burden of Kira's. "I have never heard of such an incident."

"It wasn't ever released by the media." Kira told him with a rueful little laugh. "Nor was the fact that my sister had a complete breakdown shortly after that."

Yzak was already aware of this. They'd compiled data on it quite recently when Athrun Zala had sent a request for private investigation. At that time, Yzak hadn't questioned Athrun Zala. He'd thought that his subordinate only wanted additional information pertaining to the Orb Princess that the existing files didn't have.

But this- what Kira was saying from his perspective, could be more than useful for Plant and Zaft.

"What happened?" Yzak inquired, although he already had quite a good idea of this.

"She killed an attacker in self-defence and out of necessity in saving another person." Kira informed him. "And while she had a legal defence, she couldn't bear the guilt of having taken a life to save her own and another's."

"I suppose all those who had been present, including many of the key members of Parliament, swore to keep silence on the incident to prevent a leak to the media." Yzak guessed.

But the secret investigators Yzak had sent in to collate information on the Fifth Eye's request had paid one eye-witness to speak. From that, Yzak and therefore Athrun Zala, had learnt of the events on the Orb Princess' twenty-second birthday.

Kira looked directly at Yzak."Right. None of them have spoken about this, except Aaron Biliensky. He told only one person of what had happened."

"You." Yzak realised

"Yes. But he only did so because it was crucial. By then, Cagalli's condition had already regressed. She had lost the ability to speak quite quickly and quite suddenly, and therapy didn't seem to be helping. She developed a habit of biting her hands," Kira explained, looking so pained that Yzak wondered for a moment if what he was going to do with this information was right to Kira and Cagalli. "And then it became worse."

Yzak looked at him carefully. He sensed that Kira was about to offer information that nobody else had, save the Orb Pirncess herself. And certainly, she was probably not going to offer it to anyone either. "By the time you got there, what condition was she in?"

"Unrecognisable." Kira said quietly. "I'll never forget how she sat there without responding to me. I'd taken leave for two whole months straight after that- you probably remember that."

Yzak nodded. Shiho Hahenfuss had been recently promoted at that time, and as Kira's direct subordinate, she had been Kira's proxy for a while.

"During those two months," Kira revealed. "I had to try and make her remember who she was and to reassure her that she was safe. I talked to her every day, for hours at a stretch. Those who knew I was visiting her were essentially the hospital staff who were stationed at her house for almost all hours of the day to ensure she did not hurt herself. And those were sworn to silence too."

Yzak kept quiet, trying to remember all of this that even the private investigators had not been able to dig out. All that they'd learnt had really been the broad strokes of waht had happened, but not what Cagalli Yula Atha had suffered in the aftermath. Clearly, there were emotional wekanesses she'd covered up pretty well, and now, Kira Yamato was offering information about it. Athrun Zala could probably use it.

"It didn't go anywhere." Kira told Yzak. "I began to try different methods, hoping to get a response out of her. At one point, in my desperation, I brought out all the photographs I had of people we both knew. Her father, the housekeeper and her father's bodyguard and the Admiral, all those. Even the comrades we'd had during the war- all those. Those didn't get any response from her, until I showed her a picture of Athrun Zala."

Yzak tried to contain himself, staring at Kira. "What?"

"You know they were in a relationship once, don't you?" Kira asked hesitantly. "She was very much in love with him. But it didn't work out the way they'd planned, and he'd left Orb for some unknown reason.

Yzak of course, knew exactly what reason Athrun Zala had left Orb for. But he kept silent, waiting for Kira to continue.

"She refused to talk about him after he left Orb for wherever he disappeared to." Kira revealed. "She always avoided talking about him after that. But when she was in that catatonic state, I showed her a few photographs of him, mostly featuring both of us after the First War. That was the only time she responded."

"What did she do?" Yzak asked, in spite of himself.

"She began to call out to Athrun." Kira said numbly. "That was the only thing she could say. His name. I kept showing her pictures of him, and then it was quite clear that she knew his name, even if she couldn't remember mine, Lacus' or her father's even."

"My God!" Yzak said softly. "She remembered him."

"She had been still and silent for weeks at that time. I hadn't expected her to respond at all. But she did. She began to cry and she couldn't stop, even when I took those away. She recognised him and remembered who he was." Kira looked at him sadly.

Yzak took in the breath he had been holding. His pulse was racing. "Incredible."

Kira's eyes were dull. "The next day, I began to talk to her about Athrun. I just talked for hours and hours, about what he loved to eat as a child, how he'd been a boy that everyone was in awe of, to the point that nobody really was his friend, even if they liked him. She'd look at me, and that was the only time she looked vaguely like she understood. I'd talk and talk about every single thing I could vaguely recall about Athrun, and I talked about how I remembered the way Athrun used to look at her."

Kira looked sadly at Yzak. "He loved her very much, you know. You could see it in how he spoke to her. He was always so quiet, awkward even, and he was always unable to say what he thought when he was around her."

Yzak kept quiet, fighting the guilt of what he was going to do with this information. This was a whole new side of the events he thought he knew all of. If the Fifth Eye knew about this and used it against Cagalli Yula Atha, Yzak realised suddenly, his captive would be even more emotionally dependent on him. But it was Yzak's duty to inform his subordinate, and it was his subordinate's duty to use that information, no matter how cruel it was.

"Cagalli always seemed to really listen and understand me when I spoke up of the days they'd spent together. Then I used Athrun as a sign-post to the rest of her memories." Kira told him.

"For instance, to make her remember me, I'd tell her about Athrun, who'd gone to school with another boy, who was now in front of her. Things like that. I never told anyone- never felt the need to tell anyone. And it worked for a while. Soon, she was willing to talk and respond. The speech therapy for the rest of the hours each day helped of course, and in a month, she'd regained her speech. They took off her binds too, because they knew she was recovering."

Nobody knew what I was doing- not even Aaron Biliensky or the doctors and nurses. It was always in private and I took it upon myself to try and help her recover. I thought I was the only one who could heal her." Kira laughed shortly. "How wrong I was. I may have even caused her more harm."

"What did you do?" Yzak asked in shock. He had never expected this of Kira.

Kira sighed. "One day, when she seemed to be in a good mood, I asked her why it'd never worked out between them. I thought it was obvious that she still had feelings for him, even if she never told anyone consciously. At that time, she had regained her speech, and she looked at me with an expression I'd never seen before on her face. It was like she was hiding something from me, and I knew what she proceeded to say were lies. It just didn't square with what I'd seen when she'd called out for him even when she didn't remember any of us."

"So I kept questioning her until she finally admitted that she'd driven Athrun away, because she thought he was in danger by being in Orb. I flared up and told her she was wrong, and she lost it too." Kira's shoulders sagged. "By the time we were through with shouting at each other, I knew that she would never recover from what I said about her to her face."

"I called her a selfish fool, amongst other things, and I told her that Athrun didn't deserve to be lied to, and that she didn't deserve someone like him. Of course I apologised, but it was too late by then. I think every word sank into her and she could never quite be the same with me ever again."

Yzak sat there, not knowing what to say.

"The trauma was so great because Cagalli couldn't accept that she'd sacrificed someone to save herself." Kira said brokenly. "With the attempted assassination, she'd sacrificed the attacker to save her own life and Aaron's. With Athrun though, she thought she had sacrificed her own feelings to save him by getting him out of Orb."

Kira rubbed his temples. "But I told her that the only thing that she'd really saved was herself, and that the only thing she'd really sacrificed was Athrun himself. When I told her that, she looked at me and her face just crumbled. I just watched as she begged me to take that back, but I refused."

"I left back for Plant, that very night. I heard from Aaron that she returned to work the next day, and she claimed she was fine. She's been fine since then, according to him." Kira laughed hollowly.

Kira stood up, pacing. "If only I'd realised the real reasons why the attempted assassination and Athrun had always been linked in her mind, I'd never have hurt her that way."

"How were they linked in her mind?" Yzak asked breathlessly, turning around to look at Kira.

Kira paused. "I'm not sure how to say this, or if I've gotten it exactly. But up until I told her what I thought of her actions towards Athrun, she had been convinced that what she did was right. Her act of eliminating the threat during the attempted assasination was essentially the same as the acts of eliminating all those who'd stood in her way after the Second War."

"But one thing she'd done after the Second war was different- at least to her. The one thing that had kept her going all this while was Athrun. The fact that he'd left because of what she did, made her go on, because she believed it was for _his _sake. I think that's the reason why Cagalli remembered only Athrun when the trauma made her abort all her unhappy memories."

"Unhappy memories?" Yzak echoed.

"Those memories reminded her that each time she sacrificed something, it was to preserve herself. For him though, she didn't sacrifice anyone else- she sacrificed herself. That's why she could remember him and respond to me positively when I spoke of him. His leaving Orb was actually part of her self-worth."

Kira shook his head. "But I destroyed even that, didn't I?"

Yzak felt a great sense of empathy for Kira. Now, Yzak wondered if he ought to go ahead with what he'd planned to do.

"So many things have convinced Cagalli that she isn't capable of experiencing real happiness." Kira muttered. "She has forgotten that her personal happiness is different from Orb's."

Yzak stood up, feeling incredibly battered and tired. "You shouldn't feel too much guilt yourself, Kira. Hope for the best. You can't give up now. There's so much to be done, and so much to look forward to. Lacus needs you to be strong too-,"

Kira nodded, but studied Yzak, seeing a myriad of emotion in the man's face. Kira was glad at this. If Yzak was moved, things were going to go in order as to what Kira had planned. Telling Yzak all of this had been a way of releasing some of that emotional burden, but there were far greater purposes to what Kira had done.

Granted, Kira was still struggling to come to terms to what he'd done to Cagalli. He was still hoping that she would be safe and come home to them soon. Only then, would he be able to tell her he was sorry and to ask her for forgiveness.

But all that was part of this.

He nodded to Yzak once, then moved out. Holding his head up high, Kira moved past those who still saluted to him, ackowledging that while he was not a Zaft General currently, he was still worthy of their respect. Either that, or Yzak had informed the staff here that Kira Yamato would be around today.

And if Kira understood Yzak to be the efficient machine he was, Yzak was probably going to make a call to Athrun Zala in the next hour.

All Kira had to do now, was to wait for Athrun Zala to bite.

* * *

Cagalli was suddenly aware that Athrun was shaking her.

"Cagalli." His voice was urgent, and his arm had left her body, making her whimper at the loss of warmth as cold air rolled over her bare arms. "Wake up. There's a storm approaching."

She cracked open her eyes and sat up slowly, sleepy and trying to cling to him like a koala bear. Athrun chuckled, despite his anxiousness, and kissed her cheek to placate her.

"We've got to find shelter before it rains." He told her.

Slightly more awake now, she stood up, as he had, although without the vital urgency he had displayed. He rolled up the large picnic blanket, stuffing it into the slightly less field basket, and took her hand in his.

"What's the matter?" She yawned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. "Only a little drizzle-,"

"I hardly think so." Athrun replied. "When it rains around here, it's often a storm. There're too many trees around here, too much risk of lightning. Come on, we've got to get back- maybe Epstein's waiting for us already."

With some irritation, he realised that Epstein had confiscated his cell. Worse still, the rumbling thunder was an ominous sign. The skies had become a very different colour altogether, and the wind was gathering. Hadn't Epstein assured him of good weather?

As if to mock him, the faint drizzle split into an open shower.

"Cagalli! We've got to go!" Athrun pulled her hand urgently, hoping that she was in a clearer state.

Quite awake by now, Cagalli got up and picked up the basket at the same time, staring at him.

"Should we try running down? We'll make better time," Cagalli asked around the basket handle, raising her voice to be heard over the increasing wind.

Athrun looked around, hesitating, and then shook his head. "Not in this wind and rain. Let's try to get to that place you found. Here-," He grabbed the blanket and threw it over their heads. "Better have some shelter than none."

Both of them kept under the cloth, moving down the slope with great care, trying their best to ignore the strong gusts. While neither of them were likely get blown away, the wind increased the difficulty of navigating through the thundering rain, and slippery footing daunted their efforts.

"Let's get to the church," She heard Athrun shout. "Before the storm gets worse!"

And finally spotted the hulking shape of the ruined structure before them, and with relief, made their way into the church.

As they threw open the door and stumbled through, Cagalli heard a crash of thunder, rather like a piano being thrown down the stairs.

She turned around, staring the sky. Then lightning darted as a gold dragon in the sky for a second, making her flinch but nothing untoward happened. Closing what she could of the ruined door quickly, she turned around to face Athrun.

With gratefulness, Cagalli suddenly realised that the tiny cross was functioning as a lightning-conductor, and she grinned at Athrun, who was standing near the empty fire place and shivering obviously.

They were both drenched to the bone, and even the door she'd slammed shut was in a sorry state. The wind that blasted in made her wince, and she glanced around and saw that the remaining furniture looked like mossy boulders with the vines entangled around them.

Exhausted, Cagalli moved to Athrun, feeling bruised and sore, and took his hand. Smiling reassuringly, he bid her to sit, and they eventually stretched out on the wooden floor, gazing at each other.

"Are you alright?" Athrun asked her in concern.

She grinned and nodded.

Cagalli reached out and laid a shivering hand on his cheek. "Thank goodness we're in here."

"Your teeth are chattering," He said in realisation. While he had been half-submerged in the water, she had been soaked in it thoroughly. Either way, they were both going to catch a chill, but Cagalli would catch it first.

"No I'm not," She retorted, and realised that her teeth were doing the talking. She blushed, although he saw that her lips were pale.

Getting up, Athrun took the picnic blanket and wringed it with as much force as he could muster, forcing her to sit up and swathing her in it.

"Not the best of options," He said regretfully, "But it'll have to do for now. At least the worst of wind won't get at you. "

She looked stubbornly at him. "You should take it."

He shook his head. "You saved my life, remember?"

"Besides," Athrun added wryly, "I can handle the cold a lot better than you- you live in a sunny, sunny Orb."

"We've got seasons too," She retorted, except that her teeth distorted her words.

"Except that they are all moderated by the seas surround Orb." He reminded her. "But this place is quite far inland, even though we are surrounded by seas too. This place is susceptible to the best and worst of weather, which I doubt you're used to."

"What about you?" She retorted.

Athrun laughed. "Don't worry about me, I've been through crappier cold than this."

"Okay," Cagalli said gratefully, gripping the blanket. It was still a little damp, and her clothes seemed heavy with water but too thin for the cold at the same time. He seemed to realise that the dampish blanket did her little good, and got up.

Athrun stalked over to the fireplace, looking up the chimney and examining it before scouting around the sizeable room.

There was a brass alter with candlesticks, though that would do them little good. He fumbled around, looking for something, and held up a box of matches triumphantly.

"The floorboards here are already goners. They're dry enough." Reaching down, he yanked the edge of one and brought his heel down at the other end to break it loose.

When Athrun was satisfied that he had enough to get a decent blaze going for a few hours, he turned back to the fireplace. If they ran out of firewood, then, well-

He gazed back to the rest of the floor, deciding that he would uproot the whole floor if he had to. Then striking a match, he threw it into the stone fire place and dropped tossed the wood in stepping back.

Meanwhile, Cagalli forced herself to pay attention to what he was doing to fight off the increasingly sluggish feeling that was conquering her.

Athrun stood for a while, taking care that only the wood on the other side of the hearth would ignite.

With even more obvious caution, he lit another match, this time for the candles, heating the room a little as well.

"Come here and get some warmth." Athrun glanced back as Cagalli struggled to make her cold-numbed legs function.

She moved closer to the fireplace while he took the wet blanket and lay it down on the hot rocks of the hearth, though away from the fireplace to avoid the errant spark. "Lie here for a bit. The hearth should heat you up a little."

So Cagalli gratefully lay down, facing the flames and curling up into a huddled ball, trying to conserve her body temperature.

She heard Athrun move away, and heard the articulation of wood breaking and fracturing, punctuated occasionally by loud clattering complaints as they were tossed into a pile.

Beyond this, the storm raged overhead, and the thunder shook the woebegone building incessantly.

The erratic lighting made the place light up in strange coloured indigos and violets. Cagalli closed her eyes, concentrating on the steady glow of firelight.

She hadn't even been aware she had dozed off for a few minutes until she felt Athrun shaking her into consciousness, and she struggled through the thick quagmire of stupor.

"Get undressed." he said, and his eyes were worried. She shot awake immediately, and coloured deeply. She saw he had removed his shirt at some point, and it was hanging on a piece of timber propped up by the fire to dry.

He did not notice her embarrassment, however. "Sit up."

Cagalli muttered in protest, but he wasn't having any of it, sliding his hands under her arms, gripping her sides, pulling her to sit up. The fire seemed a bit stronger, because the rocks had taken on a brief red glow.

Blearily, she felt his arms lift, along with her blouse, and she was too drowsy to say anything, though she vaguely recalled embarrassment then. Her skirt soon followed, and a warmer cloth was being rubbed over her hair, face and arms, then legs. She was too sleepy to realise that it was the blanket that had been warmed on the stones.

Lying down again quickly, unconsciously tending towards the heat of the fire, Cagalli sighed in pleased relief at the moist sensation filtering up from the hearth. Athrun lay down behind her, spooning his body against hers, draping his arm over her stomach and holding her close.

His hair, like hers, was still a little wet, but at least their bodies were drier and warmer now. He had removed his clothes as well, and the warmth circulating between their bare flesh made her feel comforted, as did the cheerfully crackling fire.

And Cagalli carefully rolled over onto her other side, facing Athrun with her back to the fire. With her eyes shut, she snuggled closer, nuzzling his bare chest, liking the sensation of his arms around her. "You're warm," she mumbled, her words slurred by her tiredness.

"Feeling better?" he asked softly, and his breath was a mist against her ear. The tiny clouds were thick enough for her to insert captions into them, she thought with a giggle.

"Much more." Cagalli admitted. "Also because we're here and alive after surviving that screwy bout of weather."

That prompted a chuckle that she felt more than heard. The sound was rumbling like the thunder above their heads, but this one low in his chest. "I'll say."

"The storm's not so bad. A bit cold, but not too bad." She hugged him tighter, her arms shifting around his back and waist now. "Can you hug me tighter too? I want more warmth."

He did, and she shifted a little, brining her knees up to his warm abdomen. Her voice was sheepish. "Can you take off your pants, please?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What?"

She buried her head in the crook of his neck to hide her face, muttering hastily, "Don't get the wrong idea. It's just that cold and wet shorts are uncomfortable to be near to. Besides, I wouldn't have to rely on this weather if I wanted you to undress."

He laughed, teasing her. "Is this what they say about convent girls? All posh and innocent, and then underneath, really wild and crazy?"

"Hey!" Cagalli protested. "I was a good convent girl! And it didn't teach me anything I didn't already know about!"

He considered this, then grinned boyishly, surprising her. When had he looked so vulnerable and unsecretive? "Well, we'll agree to be proper and fair then. I'll undress fully, and we'll behave as responsible adults should."

"Fine." She said after a pause and a deepening blush.

He stood, gently pushing her off him, and she sat up sluggishly, bringing her arms around his midriff.

Then slowly, she slipped her hands to his shorts to tug them down, and he moved out of his last garment, averting her eyes even when the blush on her cheeks was clear.

"Are you actually embarrassed?" Athrun asked wryly.

She coloured again. "It's not like we haven't seen each other naked before, so stop it."

Chuckling, he sat slowly, facing her as he stroked her cheek lovingly, and she closed her eyes, smiling back at him. Then Athrun laid down as he joined her, moving their clothes a little nearer to the fire to dry faster.

Cagalli leaned closer, tenderly grazing her lips against his. Suddenly, she was too shy to bring herself closer to him when they were so entirely naked.

There was something different about this, something different about how they'd touched in the past. That hadn't felt wrong then, but it hadn't felt quite right either, even if it had felt distinctively pleasant.

Now there was something honest about them, a certain aspect of their relationship that had changed again.

She kissed him, a strange sense of urgency uncoiling within her, fuelled by the adrenaline and storm. The erratic crashes of sound beyond and above them made the sense of danger invade the atmosphere, and she felt as if their lives were but momentary and their desires unfulfilled for too long.

Perhaps this was the time to change that.

A low moan escaped her as their lips parted, the kiss deepening, his tongue invading her mouth to brush against her own in possessiveness.

Then wilfully and in the heat of the moment, she slipped a hand to his firm thighs and brushed her hand against him as he groaned into the kiss.

Then teasingly, she brought the hand to his shoulder and settled against him, feeling him grow against her thighs.

He murmured her name and laid his mouth on her neck, biting the point where her nerves seemed to agglomerate. In retaliation for teasing him, he reached to her breasts and ran his hands across them.

"Hey!" She exclaimed. "I thought you said we'd behave properly!"

"You started it." Athrun told her huskily. "You had to go and do that first."

Almost desperately, she clung to him, her fingers tightening against his warm, now slightly feverish skin, matching their greedy kisses with her own hunger.

She felt light-headed, exploring his mouth, and the erratic drumming of the rain and thunder pattered and was reduced to one of sensation and fire. The primacy of the elements and their desire was well-matched, and she knew that the kiss was becoming more urgent.

Cagalli wasn't certain when they had moved, for she was now on her back, his arms under her, supporting the back of her head.

Her heart pounded in an unsteady, erratic rhythm as Athrun's lips left hers, leaving a trail of searing kisses down her neck, kisses that were both sweet and slightly uncomfortable, making her squirm.

"When will you marry Marlin?" He asked abruptly, although not unkindly.

She slid her arms around him, her fingers trailing against his back, tracing up his spine and the rigid bone beneath his skin.

Nervously, she stared at him. "Soon. By my next birthday."

"And you must bear him a child." He murmured.

"That's why Lady Sahaku eventually abdicated." She said in a low voice. "She was proven barren even before she rejected the marriage clause. Of course, she was too broken-hearted by her twin's death to continue the reign of Orb."

"And Lord Uzumi?"

"Well, he adopted me, didn't he?" She muttered.

"What are you planning to do?" He asked hesitantly.

"I'll adopt a child like my father did, and hope that my people will accept that." She said bracingly. Suddenly, she was revealing her innermost thoughts to this man, without even clarifying them to herself in the first place. Closing her eyes, she felt him run his hands over her abdomen and rest on her hips. "I'll find something I can do so that I can have Orb."

"But if you marry Marlin," He said pensively, "You won't need to do that. Or any other man, for that matter."

She laughed nervously. "Ah- you reminded me of that." She had been so close to giving herself away.

"Supposing," Athrun said quietly, "You had already given your hand to someone other than Marlin. Supposing, you'd fulfilled your obligations by the time you returned-,"

"That's ridiculous!" Cagalli said brashly. "Impossible!"

Something flashed in his eyes. "But it is possible. In Plant, we are still engaged. You were mine even before you agreed to marry Yuuna- even before you agreed to marry Marlin."

"How?" She said in a hushed voice, not daring to believe him.

"Dullindal arranged for it when I returned to Plant." Athrun told her simply. "Did you think I left you in Orb merely for a war my father left behind? No. I thought I was fighting our own war too. Dullindal promised me support for our marriage when I went back there. Using his power, he approved of our to-be-marriage in Plant. He kept his word- even he."

Cagalli bit her lips."But I didn't. Is this your way of punishing me, Athrun? Is this the way you wanted me to feel when you brought me here? And now you tell me of what could have been in the past- the plans we might have carried through-,"

He studied her. Cagalli only understoof a tiny fraction of his real plans, and he decided that he would not burden her anymore than he already had. If only she knew what she was part of- if only Cagalli knew how improtant she really was in Plant and Zaft's plans! But he would not tell her.

If she thought he'd brought her here for his personal reasons, he'd let her think so. That way, she was less likely to try and escape, and that way, she'd be safer.

"In a way, yes. But revenge or duty doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Athrun said.

She put her arms around him, kissing him lightly. "No. This does."

He smiled softly, stroking her cheek. Let her think what she likes, Athurn decided. No matter what, he had been warned to keep her here until the six months were over. If she thought she was obliged to stay because of how close they were becoming, then he'd go along with that. He began to kiss her neck, and she arched to him.

Cagalli writhed slightly on the blanket he'd laid under them, her body moving almost on its own accord, responding to the heat as she nuzzled against his damp hair, kissing his cheek and forehead. He wanted to take her, Athrun knew, but suddenly, the guilt he bore within him grew too much. As her skin met his, he knew he couldn't do this to her. It was unfair, and he couldn't bear the thought of mistreating her more than he already had.

Head reeling, she turned her gaze to look at Athrun, who was now lying on his back beside her, eyes closed, breathing heavily. "Don't do anymore, Cagalli, it's not right. I have to tell you something else too."

"What?" she whispered, snuggling closer, shivering.

"I need to tell you about Lyra." Athrun said uncertainly. He owed her that at felt him sit up, and she sat up too, head spinning, not quite understanding.

"What about her?" Cagalli said softly. Aware of how serious he was being, she turned his face to hers, gazing at him.

"I married her here." He admitted, looking at her in the eye although she sensed fear and hesitation in him. "We lived as husband and wife for less than a month before we decided it couldn't go on. I wanted you to know, because it didn't seem fair that I had so many chances at happiness but never gave her a chance at hers."

Stunned, Cagalli's eyes widened. "Married-,"

"We exchanged our vows here." Athrun told her.

Unable to speak, she felt him touch her face lightly, as if to confirm she was still there.

"I promised her that we'd leave the Isle some day," Athrun said soberly. "I really wanted to start afresh and to forget all the wrongs I'd done by agreeing come here and teach those children how to kill. But I decided I couldn't do that- not when I didn't really love her. So I had to leave her." He dropped his gaze, unable to continue. "I'd lived with her in a house elsewhere on the Isle, because I coudln't bear to live in that Manor. You know what it's like, don't you? All corridors and rooms and empty places within the empty place."

"But the gardens?" She questioned, her heart beathing.

"I gave some cuttings to Ko, who was living back in the Manor. He planted those there," Athrun explained. "Why?"

"No, nothing." Cagalli murmured. Athrun looked at her, trying to ascertain ther thoughts. But he didn't have to, for she revealed those to him in the next moment.

"Athrun," Cagalli interjected softly, kneeling before him and turning his head to hers. "Thank you."

He looked at her, stunned. She kissed him lightly on the forehead, and he asked, puzzled, "What for?"

"For being honest." Cagalli said quietly. "You're always evading my questions, and you're always saying that some things don't matter. But they do matter to me, and this does as well. I know she meant great deal to you, even if you say you couldn't love her in the end. I would never begrudge you even if you had loved her. How could I? And this place means a lot to you too, doesn't it?"

"Yes," He confessed. "I couldn't bring her out of the Isle when I decided to marry her, and so we had our own little ceremony here. This was in preparation for the future, I told her. After all, this place was so run down even then that it seemed insufficient. I was planning to leave this place with her, and to start afresh elsewhere. That never happened. But we still said our vows here, so it did mean something, at very least."

She nodded, moved by what he was telling her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry I never told you about this." He said quietly. "I never thought it would matter because the marriage was a false hope anyway. Also, I was ashamed to tell you of how I couldn't fulfil that promise."

In that moment, Cagalli knew what it was to love. Love was senseless, selfless and made of the foolishness that the world would scorn, if love had not been at the root of all of it. She should have felt more betrayed, should have distanced herself immediately, but she knew that she accepted him- all his flaws, all his mistakes, and all he had done in his life.

Cagalli kissed his forehead, overcome with sadness and yet, understanding them both now. "I would never blame you."

"Are you hurt by what I told you?" Athrun said hesitantly.

"Not really because it made sense for you to move one," Cagalli said, "But maybe a little, because-," She paused, looking tentatively at him. "-because I never really managed to, no matter how hard I tried."

She hugged him, sliding into his embrace, and he moved over her, hugging her tight. As she kissed him, he began to experience an uncontrollable desire in him, and the weight off his chest made him want to respond to her affection.

But he couldn't- not even when he'd told her, because he didn't want her like this.  
So Athrun pulled her away slightly.

"Not like this, Cagalli," he murmured, kissing her temple and wrapping his arm around her again for warmth.

"What do you mean?" She said shyly. "I don't want anything in exchange."

"Not here. Not in a derelict church in the middle of some nowhere like some illicit tryst." Athrun replied gravely. "I've said it so many times. You deserve much more."

She blushed furiously, burying her face against his chest, causing him to chuckle and continue.

"And if you're reacting like this," Athrun whispered, "I'm wagering you're not ready for the reality yet."

She curled up tighter against him, whispering an apology, afraid that he had mistaken her desire as an attempt to make him do her bidding. He stroked her hair, cradling her close to him.

"None needed at all." His lips brushed her forehead, then she felt him press her closer to him. "Although I'm fighting not to get excited around you." He admitted sheepishly, like an errant schoolboy.

She chuckled, running her hands suggestively around his waist. "You know, if they find us like this, in a church, no less-,"

"Good gracious," He said wryly. "I don't think we're gaining karmic points for this. If I proceeded to make love to you here, I think I would be struck by lightning as soon as I took half a step out of here."

Cagalli grinned, although her eyes were serious. "I'd probably go to hell with you, sooner or later."

"I think the later the better. I'm enjoying myself too much." He muttered. "We'll wait for the clothes to dry before we try to pretend we weren't doing anything naughty, alright?"

"Alright." She laughed.

But in the meantime, she couldn't help but occupy her time and his by tracing his mouth with her fingertips, fascinated by the way he smiled and frowned. His mouth was sometimes in a stern, white line across his face but it could be so capable of uncontrollable, searing passion.

He watched her while she amused herself by touching his face and memorising his features. There was a contentment he hadn't felt for a long time. Of course, the church itself was a harrowing place to be in, with its ruined state and his past experience in this place. But with her, everything seemed to be held at bay.

It occurred to him that he had somehow seen her as part of his being ever since he'd met her. It was impossible to forget her, the way his bonfire laughed and cried and fought against him until he could hold her entirely. A wave of possessiveness swept into him as he held her more tightly, thinking that she was his, his, everything of her belonged to him and only him.

He had only meant to save her, prevent her imminent harm. That was why he had agreed to stay on the Isle, tried so hard to watch her and prevent others from harming her, and even brought her here to prevent Greyfriars from killing her. But over the course of her time on The Isle, she had made him love her all over again, reminded him that he still belonged to her and was susceptible to her power.

And confound it- he still needed her.

If anything, he needed her more than ever. He knew more about her than he had ever known before, he understood her motivations, the same motivations he had failed to account for in the past. Now, it would be impossible for him to back off and let her simply return to Orb and forget him. And it was here that Athrun realised that he was afraid of dying without being remembered by her. He was certainly keeping her with him for duty's sake, now that he'd realised that her feelings for him made her hesitant in escaping. But at the same time, he wanted her here even beyond the scope of his duty.

She was breathing and smiling at him, not aware of the thoughts that ran through his head, and he was acutely aware of their fragility and vulnerability. He wasn't afraid to die, but he was afraid to die without her feeling any sense of loss.

What a selfish thought, Athrun remarked to himself, but he gazed at her, thinking of all that he'd done for her. Surely, insisting that she remembered him even after she went back to Orb wasn't too much to ask for?

Her eyes surveyed him innocently. "Penny?"

"Nothing really," Athrun smiled.

She chuckled, kissing his lips lightly. "I think the clothes are dry by now."

"Right." He said unwillingly, letting go of her shoulders and rolling away a little so that she could untangle herself and stand. He tried not to look as she got up, aware that she was shy of his gaze.

Their backs facing each other, they dressed hastily and sat down. She brought her knees to her, curling into a ball, trying not to feel embarrassed. Up to now, she was not accustomed to his gaze, and yet, she craved seeing the affection in his eyes.

He on the other hand, she noticed, was entirely comfortable in his own skin, and with good reason, she thought, blushing even more.

He tapped his fingers on the floor and remarked, "Hopefully, Epstein realises we're about to dry out and die."

"What makes you so sure?" She said. "He left and said he'd return indefinitely."

"He remarked that the weather would be good for two days." Athrun replied. "A slip of the tongue, I suppose, revealing his intentions. And it was a pretty inaccurate weather prediction too."

They looked at each other and began to laugh ruefully.

* * *

2 months. 28 days.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 18

* * *

Epstein was frantic, circling around the hill area. The rain was only beginning to lessen, and he wondered where Athrun and Cagalli could be.

"Screw the forecast!" He cried loudly, and the thunder boomed in the distance.

It was already morning, and the rain was slowing into a steady pitt-patter and yet, thunder was still present. Epstein felt panic and guilt bite at him- what if they'd gotten into trouble? What if they were lying somewhere, flushed like slugs into the river? Or dried out in some ditch?

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" He said desperately, talking to nobody in particular. The car honked loudly as he banged his hands against the wheel in absolute frustration. "I'm such a stupid bozo-,"

But suddenly, Epstein bolted up and spotted two small figures moving carefully down the slope. Shouting a cheer of relief and jubilation, he put the car into its gear and reversed slightly, dislodging the wheels from the thick mud, before shooting towards Athrun and Cagalli. Cagalli was holding a basket, and from the way it swung in her hands, it seemed mostly empty.

When they got in, Epstein began apologising profusely.

But Cagalli chuckled and said teasingly, "It's okay you know. We're still breathing."

"Yes," Athrun said drily, running a hand through his damp hair, "Despite your best efforts to get us killed together."

"But, but, I wasn't trying to do that! I was only trying to, you know-," Epstein's voice swung up by an octave in his nervousness. "Well anyway, it's good you're around now, because there's quite some work back there, waiting for you."

"Joy." Athrun said sardonically.

He turned to Cagalli, who was already glancing out of the window as Epstein began to start the car. "Cagalli, the scarf-,"

She looked at him a bit tensely but nodded, and from the review mirror, Epstein watched her bend forward, allowing Athrun to tie the scarf around her eyes. There was something different about them, Epstein realised. Something closer and harder to describe now.

Instead, Epstein remembered how aggressive Seven had sounded as he'd demanded to speak to the Fifth Eye. When Epstein had told Seven that the Fifth was on a business trip, Seven had been quiet for a few moments, and then said belligerently, "I want to speak to the Orb Princess."

Epstein had been unable to produce her, and Seven's silence had prolonged the tension. Then finally, Seven had cut the phone line, but not before ordering Epstein to get the Fifth Eye to call him back.

That call had come in for the Fifth Eye, and Epstein was sure Athrun had quite a bit to handle when he got back to the Manor.

After all, the Numbers did not call for minor reasons, and Seven had inevitably discovered that the Fifth Eye had taken the captive out, yet again.

* * *

"Say," the Seventh Eye, Tom Edgeworth said loudly, his arms crossed behind his head and his feet on Athrun's work table. "The Fifth Eye's got a nice place."

He was barely heard above the slobbering noises that Boarbaki was making while the twins patted and played with the mammoth dog. Black and very, very hairy, Boarbaki looked more like a bear than a dog.

"Gently, girls," Tom said, winking at them while they giggled. "Boarbaki's a bit crazy."

"Just like you then," Epstein said flatly, entering the study. He looked at the massive dog, frowning. "Boarbaki, I think you better get out of here soon. Tom, I did recall warning you that the dog was not allowed in here."

The maids reluctantly set down the tea they'd wheeled in. They curtseyed to Tom and Epstein before disappearing through the door.

Boarbaki sat up, whining sadly at the loss of his companions. Boarbaki came nearly to Tom's chest level, and Epstein shuddered at what the dog would have been like when standing on his hind legs. Boarbaki's body stretched out like a big, thick black rug and he could easily rip a grown man apart with those jaws.

"This is a nice place," Tom protested. "I couldn't leave Boarbaki out, could I?"

Boarbaki heard his name and barked, spraying spit into the air. Epstein laughed, pointing at the cupboard of files in the corner. "When you say he's got a nice place, do you mean this study?"

There was a small chandelier in the rather sizeable office Athrun used. A small chandelier, but a chandelier nonetheless. The lights winked secretively, and the flowers in the vases smiled, their ruffled faces soft and kindly.

Epstein looked around, realising that for all its former grandeur, the Danish Royals' summer palace had become something of a gigantic office for Rune Estragon.

"This used to be his bedroom right?" Tom said offhandedly, running his hand along the wooden desk where Athrun often worked.

Epstein nodded, pointing at the sofa. It could become a mattress. "It still is, actually." Athrun had always slept here before he'd recently begun occupying a room that was adjoined to Cagalli's.

"How like him to take this former palace and make it some kind of library for files." Tom snorted. "When he occupied this place, I thought he would use it for parties or something, but no. He made his bedroom an office. And the other rooms?"

Epstein shook his head, looking at Tom. "You know, the shipments often contain many, many refugees. Did you expect him to form camps along the hillsides?"

"Well, that was Plant's original plan," Tom said offhandedly. "But he takes them in and brings them back here, doesn't he?"

"Well, yes," Epstein agreed. "Women and children are more vulnerable."

They remained silent, looking around at the room Athrun had initially used as a bedroom until it had contained more files than anything else. Even Athrun's character was projected on the table. One end displayed his work files and the other a teapot he probably relied on when he wanted to burn the midnight oil.

There was no sign of frivolity on the table, save a small vial of alcohol-based scent and the lighter by it. And even then, that was to aid his concentration while he worked.

"He needs to be more modern," Tom decided, leaping up from the chair in a graceful arc. He pointed at the bookshelves at the far end. "He needs _me_ to rearrange his things. Look at those! Mouldy old books for a mouldy old man!"

"That'll do, Tom." Athrun said mildly and quite suddenly. He strode in as Tom and Epstein whirled around, for a row of book shelves had moved open to admit him.

From the looks of it, Athrun had just finished his bath and had a towel around his shoulders, even if he was wearing a fresh set of clothes.

Currently, he gave Tom a half-amused, half-annoyed look while the shelves slid shut, hiding a passageway once more. "I absolutely reject whatever you just said about my preference for sanity."

Boarbaki stood up delightedly and trotted, or perhaps, thundered towards Athrun.

But Athrun grabbed a file and he swatted the dog away with it to prevent bipedal behaviour. Boarbaki had a terrifying habit of standing up and putting his paws on the shoulders of every person he felt friendly towards.

"Hey, don't be so mean." Tom complained for Boarbaki's sake.

Athrun's lips quirked as Boarbaki sat down sadly and gazed at him with woebegone eyes that were barely visible below his thick, dark fur. Vaguely, Athrun thought that Cagalli would have adored Boarbaki.

"Geez," Tom grumbled, moving out of the chair he'd occupied as Athrun slipped back into his seat. "I hate all these secret passages in this manor. You appear like a ghost every time we want to talk about you."

Athrun grinned, running a hand through his still damp hair. "It's shortcut from my room."

"Your room?" Tom exclaimed. "Isn't _this_ your bedroom? Epstein, didn't you say-"

Epstein opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and shut it promptly.

"No, don't be ridiculous." Athrun said briskly, looking fearlessly at Tom. "I meant another room which has a bathroom adjoined."

"Oh, okay." Tom mumbled, still looking a bit confused. Athrun looked down now, and his mild demeanour vanished. His eyes narrowed as they flew to Tom once more.

"Is this a coffee-stain circle on my desk?" Athrun demanded quite fiercely.

"Uh-huh," Tom said brightly, scratching his dark hair absent-mindedly. "You don't mind, do you?"

Epstein was already getting a tissue, and Athrun frowned, not saying anything.

Boarbaki made this worse by getting up and lumbering in front of the fire place, revealing a book that he had laid on after chewing about twenty pages of it first.

Athrun decided to reserve comment. However, he couldn't resist an icy glare at Tom.

"Fine!" Tom complained, taking the tissue from Epstein, who was looking at him pointedly. He began getting back to the desk he had spent a few hours drinking coffee at. "You're such a control-freak it's strange that the Orb Princess is into you!"

"What?" Athrun blanched. He looked at Epstein, who was staring straight at Tom in surprise too. Probably, Epstein hadn't informed Tom of anything, and it was unlikely anyway.

"Oh don't think I don't know," Tom said in a petulant voice, crumpling the tissue and tossing it somewhere into a bin. "I can put two and two together."

Epstein had cleverly excused himself already.

Perturbed, Athrun got up, gesturing to Tom to follow him. He took a seat in an arm chair in front of the unlighted fireplace, while Tom strode over and fluidly deposited his weight into one opposite Athrun's.

"What are you talking about, Tom?"

Tom rolled his good eye. "I'm not the brightest tool in the shed-,"

"Bulb in the box," Athrun interrupted.

"-bulb in the box," Tom continued, "But I'm one of the better tools in the house."

"Shed."

"Yes," Tom looked annoyed. "Shed. Anyway, Rune-Anal-Estragon, I have this eye of mine," He pointed to what lay behind his eye patch, "That could see you, all those steps away, downstairs, helping Cagalli Yula Atha out of the car."

Slowly, Athrun took a sip of the warm tea that the maids had placed on the table, and watched as Tom helped himself to a biscuit and Boarbaki helped himself to about ten. Together, they were shovelling the entire can of biscuits down their throats.

"She clung to you like her life depended on it," Tom said, chewing busily in a very canine manner, as Boarbaki could attest to. "The way she looked at you, that is-," He pointed at the window that overlooked the main entrance of the Manor and the steps that Cagalli had been led up, the scarf around her eyes.

Athrun's voice was amused, a few drops of sarcasm short of condescension. "Did you happen to notice the scarf around her eyes as she tried to climb up the steps?"

"Oh come on," Tom said cheekily, dismissing the factual contradiction. He helped himself to more tea.

It sloshed and Boarbaki looked at it longingly, licking his chops. "I know a smitten girl when I see one. Uncanny. You got such a difficult person to eat out of the palm of your hand, just like Boarbaki here-,"

He waved a biscuit in the air and Boarbaki laid down, stood up, rolled around, chased his tail in a circle, doing all the tricks he had been taught to do and confusing them in his excitement before barking loudly.

Athrun stared at the dog and thought that it was rather like watching a tsunami of fur crash everywhere onto the carpet. He made a mental note to get the twins to vacuum the area later. Or better yet, he'd do it himself.

"You're relying on more than what you just saw to say that we are in a relationship," Athrun said mildly, "Aren't you?"

"Damn, you're good!" Tom looked incredibly disappointed.

Athrun narrowed his eyes. "And what would that be?"

"I reckon it's the way Sheba refuses to tell me anything." Tom announced proudly.

Athrun's mouth twitched. "And you inferred from her silence that I'm involved with the Orb Princess beyond the scope of duty?"

"Fine, fine," Tom said caustically, "Not the strongest bit of proof, I know. But Sheba is the sort who normally says what she has to say, and I could tell she was really trying her best to get me out of her place."

"She wouldn't have been the last person." Athrun said pointedly.

"Yeah, whatever," Tom said flippantly. "But usually Sheba tolerates me- that day when I asked about you, she was extremely unwilling to have me around in the place."

"Maybe it was a cumulative process of irritation," Athrun suggested sarcastically. "Maybe it was like a budding allergy to you."

Tom rolled his eye again, as was his habit, leaping up and out of the armchair. Boarbaki stood up, alert at the change of his master's mood.

"Well," Tom said testily, "Maybe I should tell you that I called Seven from this office. I was meddling around-, He pointed at what seemed like an innocuous photograph that blocked a panel of buttons, "And called the last caller accidentally. Turns out that Seven picked up. Before he even verified who was speaking, Seven exploded, calling me an asshole and saying that I was endangering everything by getting close to the captive! Of course, he didn't mean me, but you!"

Athrun remained in his seat, drew in a breath and adjusted his expression, but it was too late. Tom's good eye narrowed triumphantly and he looked aggressively at Athrun.

Tom's voice grew louder. "I've always had the luck, haven't I? It isn't like Seven to make this kind of mistake, but he made it today! I bet he was just rearing to chew your head off, and he'd been waiting for you to call him back! When I finally got a word in and told him who I was, he just clammed up, ordered me to forget what he'd said, and cut the line! No explanation, nothing! So what then? Am I suppose to pretend nothing's happening underneath my nose?"

"Tom," Athrun said coldly now, "You had no business messing around."

"Don't tell me what business I have or don't have!" Tom suddenly yelled. Boarbaki's hackles raised, and Athrun knew the dog would attack on the slightest command Tom gave. Boarbaki, no matter how friendly he seemed, was loyal only to Tom.

Getting up from his seat and looking at Tom, Athrun patted his shoulder a little. This was mostly for Boarbaki's sake than Tom's. Seeing the contact, Boarbaki realised that things were still fine and relaxed a little, staring balefully at the humans.

"I think you've misunderstood me." Athrun said in a low voice. He set his cup in his saucer and put it down on the tray.

Tom looked downcast, his head drooping like his dog's too. "I'm not trying to interfere with your business, Rune, I'm just trying to understand what's going on."

"There's really nothing going on." Athrun said mildly, controlling his emotions. On one hand, he could not blame Tom, but on the other, he did not want to give away his secrets. "She's just a captive. You know that, don't you? Nothing else matters except duty. I brought her out each time just to make sure she didn't try to escape. I've told you this before."

Tom's eye flashed back to Athrun. "Then have you developed feelings for her? Was that why Seven was so upset when he knew you'd brought her out?"

"What if I say yes?" Athrun said abruptly.

Tom spluttered, "Surely not-? She's only a captive-,"

"I'm just talking of supposition." Athrun interjected.

Tom paused, suddenly looking very grave. He stood up straight and tall, squaring his shoulders. "I wouldn't say a word, Rune. For you to develop feelings for her, it must have been inevitable in the first place. I won't say a word to the others, I swear."

"There's no need to," Athrun said smoothly, folding his arms. "We are on good relations but nothing more than that. And even then, I established those so she would keep her mind away from trying to escape."

Tom beamed, looking visibly relieved. He flopped back into his seat, looking much calmer and more willing to talk without bristling in agitation. His voice was a little sigh.

"Well, that's settled! Phew!"

"Why such relief?" Athrun said warily. He stood from where he was, watching Tom pat Boarbaki, who whined and snuffled his knee, then came to Athrun to seek the same attention. Athrun ignored Boarbaki.

"To be honest," Tom admitted, "I did think that you'd begun to develop feelings for her. I would feel bad if you had. The plans would be a little tougher from me to carry out."

Athrun looked at Tom, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"Seven told me that the Numbers are nervous about her getting too familiar with this place. I've been put in charge of handling her, so when I leave in an hour's time, she'll come with me." Tom said in a matter-of-factly voice. He drank some more tea, oblivious to Boarbaki's whining.

Athrun stared at him.

* * *

_Her twenty-third birthday had come and gone without her really noticing it. She didn't want to either- there were too many memories of the last one that she wanted to forget. Of course, life never went the way she wanted it to. She'd had to celebrate her twenty-third birthday four times so far. During the official one, she'd been silently panicking, still afraid and still wary of everybody. At least, that had gone without any problem, except for how the cake had been insufficient. The second one had been with her colleagues, the third with Aaron and his niece, and the fourth a surprise._

_She was saying goodbye to those still left in the office. It was a Friday evening, and plenty of them had finished work early and headed to town to spend the night in frivolous partying. _

_Not her though. He'd been watching for three weeks now, and she hadn't. She always drove home. He was half thankful for that, because he wouldn't have to continue sitting in front of a screen if she got home early._

_But on the other hand, he was curious to see who she spent her time with outside work. He watched her say goodbye to Aaron Biliensky, who looked at her concernedly and said, "You better get a good soak-in tonight and then rest."_

_She nodded- he could feel her nodding, and he could see Aaron's expression grow more concerned. _

"_It was a good thing that that fellow- that former ace pilot- what's his name-,"_

"_Shinn," She told him, grinning a little. "Shinn Asuka."_

"_Yes, that fellow called me and asked if you were around so he could speak to you." Aaron told her quietly, obviously afraid that someone would overhear. "Thank God he did, or I wouldn't have gone downstairs and found you sleeping in your car with all the doors locked. Holy Haumea, what a relief. I thank God."_

"_You're an atheist." She pointed out. Aaron had often used God's name in vain for as trivial a thing like dropping a file. She thought of the way he would screech "Holy Mother-," and laughed._

_Aaron put his hands on his hips, showing how upset he was. "That's not the point. The point is that that company's pants ought to be sued right off them! What kind of service is that? And you! You and your habit of falling asleep in the car!"_

"_Oh come on, Aaron." Cagalli protested. "You know I do it all the time in the mornings when I come a bit too early and the gates of the office haven't been unlocked! You know I leave the house early to avoid traffic jams and want to catch some shut eye in my car, in the car park!"_

"_Yeah, that's reasonable," Aaron snapped, "But the maintenance of your car sucks! Those locks weren't working- they locked permanently that morning when your got in and drove out, and that was like, just one day after you got your car serviced! Those idiots at the garage-,"_

_She tried to calm him down. "No worry, I'm fine. It was just a mistake on their part, they're sorry, so I don't think you should actually sue them-,"_

"_Like hell they can get away with their negligence." He snapped loudly. "If I didn't find you in that car, you would have continued sleeping on in there, with those doors locked. And the manufacturers say this hasn't happened to them before! Pish! If I didn't smash those windows, which by the way, were supposed to be bullet-proofed-,"_

_Cagalli looked very guilty as he shot her a death glare._

"_-you'd have been dead meat." Aaron concluded. "And I while it's lucky your windows could be smashed, I'm wondering why they weren't bullet-proofed."_

_He looked accusingly at her and she had the decency to blush. She stammered, "Well, I was saving up for another car and I thought I'd save some cost while having this one and-," She trailed off as Aaron turned distinctively purple. _

"_Shit Cagalli, don't play with your safety like that! If you'd wanted a loan for a new car, I'd have lent you the money any day!"_

_Seated in front of the screen, Athrun was treated with a very nice view of a well-cut jacket that Aaron was wearing, although he could not see Aaron's face from where Cagalli's pen was- in her shirt pocket. _

"_Thank you Aaron," Cagalli chuckled. "You really saved my ass back there before anything could go wrong. Not that anything was going to, really. But I didn't even know I'd fallen asleep in there until I heard a loud noise and realised your head was poking through the car window. Of course, you were screaming into my ear, so I had to wake up and all that."_

"_Well, that's true." Aaron said primly, and Athrun watched him pour a cup of tea for himself as the cup moved out of the screen of vision. Aaron was probably drinking. "You really live an exciting life, don't you? First that twenty-third birthday party you had a week ago where all those big names came to visit you, and then this minor accident that-," He shuddered. "Ugh- I don't even want to imagine it."_

"_You're right about the exciting life that I lead though," Cagalli joked. She was packing her things now. "Kira and Lacus planned a surprise birthday party and I met some familiar friends again. It was actually quite nice."_

_Athrun knew exactly who she was referring to. Shinn had turned up on his request and had been watching over her all this while. Shinn had been reluctant too, but Athrun had called in the life debt that Shinn had owed him since the battle of Messiah._

_Cagalli had invited Shinn home last evening, but of course, Athrun already knew that. Shinn had been very reluctant to go to the Atha Estate, but Athrun had insisted that he go._

"_It's your fault," Shinn had said, irritated. "You made me accept Kira's invitation to her surprise birthday party, and you made me spy around."_

"_It's good though, you saved her life."_

"_Yeah, but then I had to call Aaron Biliensky and pretend I wanted to speak to Atha. And then she called me back later and asked what I wanted to talk about, and I had to make up some excuse that it wasn't convenient to say over the phone either. And now I've been invited to her place because she says she needs to talk to me anyway, and bloody hell- it's going to be so awkward."_

_Shinn Asuka had appeared at Cagalli's surprise birthday party because Athrun had asked him to accept the invitation he'd gotten from Kira. While in Orb, Shinn had tailed her car every morning, sometimes on a motorbike, sometimes in different rented cars. Last week, he'd noticed that she'd had to send her car for the annual maintenances. He'd noticed non-authorised staff tampering with it, and he'd alerted Athrun. _

_Athrun had then instructed him to call Aaron and make sure Cagalli was fine, and for that, Shinn was now stuck with having to go to see Cagalli. Athrun had allowed himself a laugh. "Go. I'll be watching, so don't think you can pull out of the favour you owe me. And while you're there, Shinn, help me look around and see if the place has been bugged. Check the usual areas."_

_Shinn had made a sound of deep annoyance. "You're assuming that I'm going to the Atha Estate to hear her say her thank-yous on me having randomly called her up and somehow preventing some catastrophe from happening. And you're assuming I'll be able to rifle around the house like nobody's business."_

"_Use your imagination." Athrun had told him. "Just find a way. And make sure if there are any bugs, they get removed."_

"_There's probably only one," Shinn had grumbled. "And I'm sure you don't want me to get rid of that one."_

_Now, Athrun watched as Aaron came to stand besides Cagalli. "Say. Is that pen your brother's birthday gift to you?"_

"_No. From the Head General of Zaft- Yzak Joule and his fiancée, Shiho Hahnenfuss." She lifted it, showing it to Aaron. The screen focused on Aaron's admiring gaze, and Cagalli's voice in the background said, "I thought it was rather spiffy."_

"_Yes it is," Aaron agreed. Athrun watched his eyes move- they must have returned to Cagalli. "Very, very nice. Elegant, not too flashy, and quite simple looking. I approve, absolutely. Looks very expensive though. And you didn't return it because?"_

"_Because it was presented to me by Shiho!" Cagalli said insistently. "If it had been the Head General, I would have told them I couldn't accept the expensive gift. It would have looked a bit-," She trailed off, shrugging._

"_Yep, I get you." Aaron said musingly. "You'd look like you were taking favours from Zaft or something. But maybe you're being a bit paranoid? You ended up returning almost everything except the gifts that couple gave you and your brother and his wife's gift."_

"_I'd rather be safe than sorry. Can't have me looking like I accept bribes, can I?" Cagalli said seriously._

_Athrun knew. He had known exactly what she would feel comfortable accepting, and so he'd chosen a pen. A pen was suitably expensive, suitably presentable, suitably small, and suitably easy to plant a camera in. It had come from Shiho, on behalf of Yzak and her._

_For those reasons, Cagalli had carried the pen around, as Shiho had made her promise to do. Of course, Shiho had been asked by Yzak to make Cagalli promise to do that, and Yzak in turn, had been asked by Athrun to make Cagalli do that. When Athrun had requested that Yzak do as he said, Yzak had violently objected at first._

"_Look, I know you want to give your old flame a present and all. But through me? And Shiho? Shiho will think I'm crazy!" Yzak had blurted out. "Or that I'm cheating on her or something by insisting that she present it and ask Cagalli Yula Atha to carry it around!" _

"_Try telling Shiho this." Athrun had suggested. "Say that it cost you a pretty penny, and Shiho will naturally think that you want Cagalli Yula Atha to make good use of such an expensive gift."_

"_It's just a pen, for crying out loud!" _

"_Try it." Athrun had insisted._

_As Yzak had told him later, Shiho had believed him quite readily. Shiho had convinced Cagalli to begin carrying the pen around. But Shiho had only done so because she thought Yzak would be upset if the supposedly-expensive gift was not being used. So Athrun's little trick had worked._

"_See?" Athrun had said over the phone, in a deadpanned voice. "Being cheap becomes you, Seven." _

"_Fuck you, Zala!"_

_But then, even Yzak didn't quite know why Athrun had insisted that the pen be given to Cagalli, although Athrun was sure Yzak suspected why. Yzak was not stupid, that was for sure. Yzak must have suspected that the pen had been tampered with._

_But surely, Athrun thought to himself now, the fact that his fears had materialised was ample justification for his insistence that Cagalli take and keep the pen, carrying it with her to use._

_Her car had been tampered with, a week after her twenty-third birthday. Even before that, he'd been surveying her, making sure that Greyfriars would fail. He could not allow her to die like that without knowing who'd even harmed her. _

_At this point, Athrun was curious to see what Cagalli had to say to Shinn. That would be tomorrow night, and hopefully, Cagalli would be carrying the pen with her at that time. Also, he wanted Shinn to remove any bugs in the house, if there were any. But Athrun was quite sure that nobody had tampered with her house. Nobody could have gotten into her estate even, what with the complicated gates that walled everything out._

_As Cagalli's unassuming, even plain looking black car moved through the estate's gates, he wondered if he had done enough for today. Usually, once she was through the gates, she was home and safe. _

_But today, something compelled him to continue watching._

_He knew the patterns- she would leave the office after saying goodbye to those who were still left there, then get into the parking lot, get to her car, wave off the bodyguards who were still insisting that they follow her to her gate at very least, and then drive home. _

_She was too lax, he thought briefly. Far too inviting of the risks. So far though, she seemed to have at least the reason of experience for being this lax. Nobody had ever attempted anything as she had driven home._

_So he should have turned away, switching everything off, and getting some rest too. But today, he decided he wanted to watch a little longer. For no reason, really, he assured himself. Nothing at all. Or if there was a reason, it was only because he was too lazy to get out of the seat yet._

_If she had been quite silent in the car, save the occasional mutters of annoyance at some crazy driver who had probably cut into her lane, now she was a little more vocal. Athrun assumed the uncourteous drivers she had met were not aware that the driver was Cagalli Yula Atha._

_In the late evening or night, most drivers looked the same to the other drivers- either because they were all tired, or because light was diminishing._

_He heard keys, and saw darkness. She must have shifted her handbag to her chest, trying to have more ease with opening the door. Then he heard her shut the door and vision was restored. She must have set down the bag. _

_She was groaning, stretching to reach for her shoes, yanking one off, and then kicking the other._

_From where he sat, he heard those made dissatisfied, clacking noises as they were flung off._

_He saw only her knees and then feet as she bent down before straightening up again. It was all in a matter of seconds. The pen in her pocket was lurching dangerously, but it was not falling out. She had clipped it to her shirt pocket. _

_In the basement of his study, he watched her feet patter, in their unmended stockings. Her feet crossed to the carpet of what he recognised as her living room. Some bits of her toenail polish were chipped, he could see that now. _

_She must have noticed it, for he saw her hands travel lightly over the scarlet colour and he heard her muttering something about Aaron and his harebrained ideas on manicures. But then the view veered back again, and he knew she had straightened up completely._

_There was a blur of colour for a second as the camera's view adjusted slowly. Cagalli was flopping backwards, he assumed, what with her sigh that spoke volumes about how hard she had been working in the office._

_She remained stagnant for a very long time._

_He got up from where he was sitting, observing her actions still. He took a mug from a table some distance away, eyes still trained on the large screen he had been sitting in front of. The bitter taste of the coffee made him a little less tired, and he was determined not to take his eyes off her. _

_For weeks now, he had been surveying her more closely than before, afraid of some hidden risk he had not noticed. He had no reason to at this point, because she was at home and she was safe._

_Watching as she worked, watching as she met people in her office- all that was right. Watching her drive was important too- they could have planted something in there or tampered with her car, just as they had weeks ago. If he hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have intervened in time._

_But watching her at home at this point, felt like he was invading her privacy. There was just no more excuse to watch her, but he gave himself one- that he wanted to make sure she was really, really safe._

_And so, he watched._

_Her hands came into view along with her elbows. She was surveying her painted nails now and humming something under her breath. Aaron had insisted that she try on some nail colour, and it had amused Athrun to see her agree eventually. _

_So she did have some kind of vanity, he realised amusedly. Then he shook his head quickly, as if to rid thoughts of familiarity with the subject._

_Then she leapt up quite abruptly and the image projected on his screen jammed for a second because a small camera could not possibly have the best visuals. It was good enough, however._

_She must have stretched, for the view was not of her feet but a door she was walking towards. Tense, Athrun set aside his mug and hurried back into his chair, watching carefully._

_The door opened although he did not see her opening it from the angle he was viewing things at. It was all coral and pearl coloured and he blinked blearily, feeling strangely agitated even though his body was exhausted. There was that restlessness, that twitching frustration in him, despite how tired he thought he had been. It was probably the caffeine._

_She was silent for quite some time, and he wondered what was happening. The screen was still stagnant- possibly, she was not moving, or the image had jammed from its transmitting point. Praying it was the former, Athrun peered a little closer._

_Thankfully, it was. The image began to move, and what he saw was from the perspective of the camera in the pen she had in her shirt pocket. The view was limited, but he could see something that resembled a sink, then darkness for a second or two, then those dominant colours again. _

_Next, her foot's shadow moved over his vision, and he realised she must have pulled off her shirt and discarded it to the floor. She must have done it in such a manner that the pen in her pocket was facing upwards to the ceiling._

_But what happened next plagued him for a long time to come, and it haunted his dreams and formed the impetus to give into the temptation when she'd offered him half her body all those years later. _

_As she undressed, he found he had lost the will or sense of proprietary to pry his eyes away from the camera._

_Cloth threatened to block the four cornered vision before him as she dropped other articles of clothes, but he could still observe Cagalli. She was humming softly to herself, and he watched her fumble clumsily, trying to get at the brassiere she wore. The manner she tried to free herself was akin to a dog chasing its own tail._

_He watched in semi-amusement and some interest, prepared to get up and finish his coffee in the meantime._

_But then, she finally caught hold of it and undid it, pulling it off with a relived little sound. And when she turned to the side and then spun to the front, he could not help what transpired next. _

_He could see three-quarters of her from where he sat. A tremor passed through him, and it seemed to pool in his solar plexus._

_Suddenly, the dark-coloured, plain wool skirt and the stern black stockings she wore seemed ill-fitting and too stark against the honeyed skin. She would have been better off wearing more sensuous material. Her breasts were full and enticing, bouncing slightly as she raised her arms and ran her hands through her hair, mussing it while absent-mindedly muttering something to herself._

_He was reminded of the tiny crabs she'd tried to get free from. _

_The blonde hair she kept near shoulder-length looked like golden cotton, spun fine and bright. Uncomfortably, he shifted, wondering why he didn't have the willpower to pull the plug._

_She tucked back the hair behind her right ear, and he became aware of how feminine she was with that slight gesture. That tiny movement had the same impact as her screaming for help had all those years ago; when he'd suddenly realised that he had been about to kill a girl._

_As she lifted her arms to her neck, massaging to get at a crick, he sat, stunned._

_A small diamond stud glinted in the soft light as her fingers brushed unconsciously against her earlobe, and that action of her tucking her hair behind her ear seemed more erotic than anything he had ever seen or experienced. _

_He wasn't quite so sure why, but perhaps it was that revealing of her femininity, the way she privately indulged in a bit of vanity. It was very attractive. _

_He noticed a thin silver chain around her fine, delicate neck. That was safe, he knew. Lacus had given that too her just weeks ago, and Cagalli had put those on in delight. He knew. He had watched her then._

_It had struck him then that he never knew she wouldn't mind wearing jewellery. Now he knew though, that she was just as taken with those things as any female would be, despite how she seemed detached from a woman's vanity. _

_Come to think of it, he had never seen her wear a dress for him apart from those social events she had been forced to attend; those he'd accompanied her to as Alex Dino. Nor had she worn any jewellery then- she'd been rather against any trinkets, saying that they weren't for girls like her. _

_He hadn't said anything in the past, only found her ways refreshing and unusual. But seeing her like this, seeing how at ease she was in private, he realised he hadn't recognised her insecurity then. She had been afraid to show her femininity, afraid that people would look down on her for that._

_His heart ached. If only he had seen that then, and had told her that she had nothing to be ashamed or insecure about._

_Now, her expression was lost as she rubbed her face with one hand, and he could imagine what it would be like to take that hand away to see her face again. Her lips were wet as she bit them slightly, fumbling still. _

_Then she began to tiptoe, trying to get at something at a shelf, and he stared at her, still transfixed by the shadow she cast. _

_Her calves gleamed white, her heels raised in the air, en pointe, a sylph or ballerina except that her body was a woman's. Her nipples looked pert and hard, and he imagined they would feel that way against his lips and in his mouth. The small diamond pendant framed by tiny pearls glinted as she struggled a little, nestled between her full breasts. _

_She deserved so much more, he thought dazedly. Why didn't he know that she wouldn't mind wearing these diamonds? He would have given her all the jewels she could wear, all the dresses she would wear for him- anything that could tell her how he felt; anything that could return them back to the short time they'd had together, anything to save what he'd ruined by leaving her for a war. _

_He'd have given anything to be there, to present her with all the diamonds that she could have. All the pearls she could wear, around those fine, slender wrists, he thought fervently, and all the rubies, emerald, sapphires and topaz she wanted. If he could meet her again, he'd give everything he could give- more than just that ring. _

_And he ran his hands across the screen, unconsciously placing his cheek against the screen, against her. _

_She did not seem to notice anything about herself as she continued stretching, trying to get at something he could not see. He was stiff with desire, and uncontrollably, he reached to himself, undoing his belt and trying to appease himself, although he tried to remind himself that he did not love her anymore. _

_That was all he needed- a physical release, he told himself. Nothing more. He was not supposed to feel anything for her._

_But she was so beautiful, he thought dazedly. For these past few months, as he'd been watching her, he had become incredibly aware of her habits. Her colleagues respected her, got along well with her with the easy camaraderie she'd established with them. _

_To try and distract himself, he glanced at his table. The files were strewn across, where he'd be reading those. These started from only the time she'd returned Orb after the First War, and even then, he knew these weren't complete. There was no mention of Alex Dino, any engagement plans they'd made- nothing. It was as if he'd never existed. He could feel something ache in him, and the warning signs of that caused him to get out of his chair, trying not to remember her._

_Watching her these past few weeks had made him realise, though not for the first time, how lovely she was- how physically desirable and attractive she was. He'd seen the way she spoke naturally and without any stiffness to Aaron when they were in private; the way they joked and laughed, and even the way she tapped her fingers against the desk when she worked at times._

_He'd witnessed the way she often chose to eat lunch alone even when colleagues were asking her to go along with them; the way the wind blew at her hair and the way she sometimes cried alone even though she seemed contented and fine for most of the time. _

_He knew. He'd seen from the view from the pen she put in her pocket small tears fall onto her trembling fingers as she ate. He did not know the reason why. He wasn't supposed to know why or care to know why._

_He tried to remind himself that he didn't care who she was. This was only a matter of physical gratification. At least, he kept repeating that as he whispered her name once, thirstily, seeking the memories he thought he'd already relinquished. _

_Yet, this- this was something more than observing the subject as part of his duties. This wasn't even like watching some banal, erotic film that would satisfy men and their mere physical cravings. There was something more disconcerting, more incongruous, more tempting, more painful about watching her like this. She was entirely milky white from where he sat watching her, the soft light flattering to her already delicate features. _

_If in the past, she had seemed impatient, bursting with passion and mad energy as a girl that had not quite accepted womanhood, Cagalli had gone past that point now. She had blossomed, he could see, and she'd somehow bloomed without being able to prevent it._

_She had become a woman to the point so physically and probably even psychologically, that she could not deny it, least of all anyone around her or even him. He thought of the way she had tucked her hair behind her ear unconsciously, the way the pearls and the diamond had glinted between her full, trembling breasts._

_It was that realisation that made his impending release so necessary; it was the memory of betrayal and the pain that made him aware, even so far away, that he wanted to be near again. He wanted to meet her again._

_He could almost feel her- his hand was not his but hers now, and he closed his eyes momentarily, imagining what it would be like for her to touch him, while she let him touch her breasts with his hands and mouth._

_She made a small sigh, probably irritated with how she had stored something so high above that she was having trouble reaching now. That sigh resonated in him and shook the core in him._

_He had never touched her in lust before- he had always tried to be careful with her. He had tried to avoid touching her at all. It struck him now that he'd never even held hands with her. It had been impossible in the past, because lowly body guards did not have relationships with the Orb Princess._

_It would have been wrong if he had pushed things too fast with her- that was what he had believed in the past. She would be frightened and run. Here though, she didn't know he was watching. She would not run from him now. He shouldn't have continued watching. It was wrong with regards to his duty, wrong with regards to her rights, wrong with regards to what he knew was right. _

_All the same, he couldn't help watching her._

_He felt warm, feverish, and he moaned silently, his hands rough against himself. As she stretched a little more, cursing a little, he shivered, watching the delicate skin stretch with the tension of her frame. His heart seemed to come into obvious existence, and it seemed to beat in tandem with hers, in his ears. He could see the way she breathed slowly, deeply, stretching, and he shuddered._

_He would have given anything to be transported there and then, with her body taut and him facing her and buried between her breasts, his mouth greedily seeking, his hands wrapped around her rear as she stretched, trying to get at that something. Then she would suddenly realise that he had come back to her- for her. She would watch him touching her, and then she would bring her arms down, one to stroke his hair, one to tuck her own hair behind her ear. His gasps were becoming clearer in the room and he shivered. His hand was moving faster against himself._

_Then she finally grabbed hold of what she needed at the same time when he came with a final shudder that his spine seemed to rattle with. A shampoo refill from a high shelf, it seemed._

_She stood normally now, and she was silent. His panting was soft and laboured._

_As she bent to pull off her skirt, her breasts hung heavy, made larger by gravity, luscious fruit he might have stroked and squeezed the globed surfaces of. He averted his eyes, suddenly ashamed and now fully aware of himself. His hands were wet with his seed because he'd tried to stop the warm spurts with his palms. His breaths were ragged, and he wondered how he could tolerate watching any more._

_But it was just as well that she continued undressing. This time, the skirt she dropped covered the already discarded articles of clothing. He watched the screen become instantaneously dark._

_Cagalli had stumbled on her clothes, it seemed. The camera picked up its final sound- the casing of the pen cracking as her weight moved above it. She had stepped on it accidentally while stepping on her clothes. _

_That moment of sheer accident when she'd prevented him from watching any further, but that pure coincidence of his decision to continue surveying her even after she'd driven home today, had tied together in that singular, strange knot of fate. _

_If the camera had not been instantly spoiled when she'd stepped down hard on it, he would have heard her curse. _

_He would have seen her pick up the pen, make a sound of irritation and frustration at her clumsiness at how she'd broken it. He might even have witnessed the conversation between her and Shinn the following evening, or perhaps how close they would eventually grow over the next year, until she'd finally asked Shinn to leave._

_From where he was, the signal was lost. It was just as well._

_He sat in his seat, shivering, unable to move for quite some time_.

* * *

Gazing in the mirror, Cagalli brushed her hair a little. The note still lay on it, and she avoided glancing at it, for his handwriting and the message would have sent a thrill up her again.

So she looked into the vanity mirror to watch as Cartesia and Laplacia beamed at her. Curiously, she turned around to them. "Why are you grinning that way?"

They gave each other secret little smiles, and then turned back to her. In unison, they murmured, "You look nice."

She glanced down at the clothes they'd picked for her. "You two laid this out for me. I didn't chose for myself."

"We picked those out on Mr. Estragon's instructions." Cartesia reminded her, and Laplacia nodded eagerly, adding, "He wants you to use these earrings today."

The younger twin picked up a set, and Cagalli glanced at those, her brow furrowing a little as she studied them. "Funny. These look similar to a set I have at home. Well," She shrugged. "I suppose plain diamond studs are common designs."

"But the necklace?" Laplacia said inquisitively, peering like a woffly little rabbit over Cagalli's shoulder. Cagalli chuckled and lifted it for Laplacia to see, stroking the girl's cheek lovingly as Cartesia leaned closer to. Cagalli was glad to find that increasingly, the twin girls were becoming like younger sisters that she never had, and she lavished her attentions on them, as they did on her.

"Well, it looks similar to the one set I actually have," Cagalli observed. She ducked her head shyly at them as their eyes widened. "Everything else is just loaned on an event-basis," She explained hastily.

"This is a little more elaborate, and the diamonds look better-cut." She picked up the box with the little cat sitting on its lid, ruffling around and picking out another set. "Wouldn't these aquamarine ones match better?"

Laplacia's eyes lighted up and she nodded vigorously, but Cartesia shook her head.

"Mr. Estragon specified." Cartesia said simply, and Cagalli sighed a little, but smiled at them nevertheless.

She could not understand why Athrun was so fond of seeing her wear these trinkets he'd supplied her with. Granted, Cagalli thought with a soft blush, he'd said once that he'd find her opportunities to wear those, and perhaps he'd meant this. Whatever the case, she did like these trinkets secretly, especially with how he'd picked these out for her.

Moreover, Cagalli admittedly looked nice in whatever Athrun picked out.

Her blush deepened, as did her confusion. She did not quite understand what had driven Athrun to supply her wardrobe with all these pretty, well-made things. But he seemed to be intent on it, and there seemed to be a greater purpose to all of this. Perhaps she would ask him today.

Now, she moved out of the room, the maids trailing behind her, giggling and admiring like she was an elder sister on a date that they were spying on. And chuckling too, Cagalli reckoned that was quite accurate.

As she pattered down the hallway, the twins waved goodbye to her and disappeared down another. Quite confidently, she turned a few corridors, having become quite used to this stretch of the house.

The dining room Cagalli entered into was empty because Athrun hadn't arrived, although the food was already steaming on the table. Eagerly, she bent over and lifted the tureen, admiring Epstein and the twins' culinary finesse. Even a simple minestrone and pasta soup became the finest cuisine under them, and in pleasure, she closed her eyes, inhaling the spices they'd improvised with.

A pair of hands closed around her shoulders, and she smiled.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," She whispered, not turning around. His lips were lingering near her ear and she felt the soft linen of his shirt against her bare shoulders.

He grinned, moving to take the adjacent seat. She sat at the end of the table, next to him, and folded a hand under her chin, surveying him in imitation of what he had already begun doing.

While Athrun didn't say anything, his eyes roved over her admiringly. Teasingly, Cagalli lifted the hand under her chin to tuck her hair behind her ear, revealing an earring. Her voice laughed in the air. "I did as you ordered."

He looked at her, smiling softly and almost reminiscently. That surprised her, because there was familiarity in his eyes that she did not know how to place.

Still, dinner was waiting. As they began to tuck in, she began to chatter away, telling him about Ko and the twins. When she had returned to her room, Cagalli informed him, she'd taken a bath, and then gone to the gardens. There, she'd found Ko and Pepita in there, and they'd entertained her until she'd returned to her room in time to find his note.

He laughed with her about Pepita's antics, but sobered, concerned about Ko's scratched knee. Apparently, Pepita had tripped him and Ko had ended up on the ground.

"But it's fine now," Cagalli reassured him, "I bandaged it- nothing more than a scratch." She began to resume telling him about the little titbits of information she'd gotten by being with the aides and Ko.

As she laughed and talked, Athrun looked at her, realising that she'd become something of a mother or sister figure to them. It was clear in the way the twins had taken to her and opened up quite simply, despite all that Athrun had taught them.

But then again, Athrun thought ruefully, he had opened up to her too. The aides would have naturally followed.

He gazed at Cagalli. She would not know what he and Yzak had spoken of, but that conversation still weighed down upon him. Obviously, Yzak had been very unhappy to hear Athrun admit to bringing Cagalli out of the mansion again.

"You take risks like that," Yzak had said curtly, "And the Numbers won't like it. You know all these actions are unauthorised, no matter how you want to reason that it's all in the name of duty."

Athrun understood Yzak's concern, but hadn't expected him to be this upset. Yet, Yzak had revealed the reasons soon after that.

"Nothing I haven't already heard." Athrun had countered. "I am being careful. I won't fall for her again."

He had heard Yzak hesitate. What had come next was unexpected, especially since it was from Yzak.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you this. But I will if you can promise me that you'll remain objective in your duty."

"I will." Athrun said, not understanding how careless he had been in giving that promise and assuming he would be able to do whatever Yzak proceeded to ask of him. At that point, Athrun had been far too curious to learn what Yzak was so hesitant in telling him.

But as Yzak had told him everything, Athrun had found himself wondering if he could keep his promise now.

"I'm telling this to you because I want you to be aware of how vulnerable she really is." Yzak said brusquely. He drew in a deep breath. "And I know you are vulnerable when she is too, because you were once deeply in love with her. That's why I don't want her to be around you, and that's why I want to shift her to another Isle. Both of you are adults, but even adults can be fools in certain situations."

Athrun had been stunned to hear Yzak say all this. In Athrun's mind, Yzak's complete telling him of Cagalli's past now was only to justify why Yzak was planning to make Tom Cagalli's protector now.

Now, Athrun looked at Cagalli. He wasn't sure how Yzak had gotten this information, but he could sense why Yzak was choosing to tell him of it only now. When Athrun had requested for information to be dug out previously, that had been because Cagalli had been traumatised and Athrun had realised that there was a necessity to rake out her past. Perhaps Yzak had omitted that part of her suffering because he hadn't wanted Athrun to grow too close to Cagalli.

Athrun shook his head inwardly. As if that had prevented anything from happening.

But still, Athrun had convinced Yzak that he knew how to handle himself and Cagalli. Eventually, Yzak had only agreed marginally that Cagalli would stay on the Fifth Isle and not be moved to the Seventh.

"Athrun," He was aware that Cagalli was looking pleadingly at him, "Do you think I could see Ko more often?"

He paused, and she immediately tried to reassure him of her intentions.

"Not that I'm going to ask him questions or anything- I just thought that I'd liked to get alo-,"

He nodded quickly, smiling at her. She grinned back at him, almost bubbling over with the excitement and prospect of being with Ko.

While she looked happy now and her eyes were bright, Athrun knew she had never really recovered. She'd made herself heal for the necessity of moving on in life, but the wounds had always festered beneath the surface of calm, and he'd become aware of this when she'd seen him kill someone.

Now, Cagalli became aware that he was not talking but only listening and looking intently to her. "Athrun? Are you alright?"

"Yes." He said cautiously. "I'd like to talk to you about some things though."

She could sense his seriousness and faltered. "What do you want to know about? You know almost everything-"

"No I don't," Athrun interjected, cutting through her attempted cover. "Not about Kira and what happened after your twenty-second birthday," He said abruptly.

Her face turned pale from where she sat, and he could tell that Cagalli was tensing up.

"Athrun," She whispered in cold dread now, feeling her heart beat erratically. "Don't ask this of me. I can't say."

"You can. You must." He told her firmly, sitting straighter in his chair. "That's the only way you can recover. And I know I'm part of that."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise and fear.

"Don't hide your past from me anymore. I need you to open for me." Athurn said intently. "That's why we're able to be here, having a meal together, holding a decent conversation together. Because we agreed to try and understand each other."

She hesitated, then bit her lips, looking at him pleadingly. "I want to do that Athrun, I really do. But I can't remember much because it was some time ago and I really wanted to forget.

"Then tell me what you remember." Athrun requested.

Cagalli's voice was hesitant. "I had a quarrel with Kira shortly after I regained my speaking abilities. I think you know I suffered from mutism for a while."

He nodded.

"I think it was the shock of having killed someone- those were some anti-Coordinator extremists who attacked that night and would have killed Aaron." She drew in a deep breath, willing herself to go on.

"Kira came to visit me in hopes of helping me, but I was in a bad state. I couldn't recognise him, or at least, I couldn't respond to anyone even if I did. "

He felt her tremble a little even when no part of him was in contact with her. But he had understood the core of her fears from what Yzak had revealed to him, and now he was able to truly empathise with Cagalli.

"I can only remember that I was so scared when I pulled the trigger. I didn't want to kill that man, but I had to, or he'd have killed me."

"I could only think of you in that moment when I pulled the trigger- it was the last memory I had before I blacked out. I guess I was sure I was going to die anyway, and I thought that at least I'd done one thing right when it concerned you. But Kira was very angry when he found out why you'd left-,"

She glanced at him, sounding terse. "I thought I was right, I really did. I was prepared to give everything up if only I could ensure your safety, but in the end, I was wrong wasn't I? I never even heard you out when I asked you to leave-," She choked back her tears, trembling violently.

"But now you know the truth. You heard me out eventually, even if I'd already left Orb by then." Athrun comforted her. He reached to her hand, taking it from her lap, realising it had been clenched into a fist.

He stared at her pale face. "I don't blame you for that anymore, Cagalli. Kira was wrong to have said that to you too, Cagalli. He didn't mean it. I'm sure he wants to be forgiven for hurting you. He said all that in anger because he felt disappointed. He knows how much you had to sacrifice, and he had no right to say that either."

Cagalli shook her head, not looking at him. Her voice was trembling. "I must see him again, even if I have to die after that. I need to tell him that I never blamed him."

Athrun leaned forward towards her now and stroked her cheek gently. "I think he knows that deep inside him, Cagalli. And he probably never really blamed you either. Nor have I."

"You were misguided, but that was only because you were so vulnerable and you wanted me to be safe all this time. But I could only understand the truth when I brought you here and forced you to tell me of your thoughts back then." He looked at her tenderly. "And that's why I'm glad I met you again."

Her eyelashes fluttered low as she stared at her hand in her lap. She was twisting part of her dress in it nervously. Shakily, Cagalli looked at him. "You must have been very confused when you were forced out of Orb."

"I was." He admitted. "I ran through all the possibly reasons why you didn't seem to have any feelings anymore for me. At one point, I thought it was probably because a relationship with my father's shadow over my name seemed too difficult for you. I'd thought of that when I first found out that you'd agreed to marry Yuuna Roma Seiran while I was in Plant."

Her lips parted in surprise. Athrun was looking straight at her, and his voice was troubled.

"I've never told you this before," He said stiffly. "But I was unhappy that he could show affection towards you in public, whereas I could only watch and protect you in private as Alex Dino. Even then, if people had known that I was Athrun Zala and I was being in close proximity with the Orb Princess, they'd never have allowed me around you. So I couldn't even express jealousy, because I was afraid you'd be troubled by it, and because your minders would have us put apart."

"Still, I wanted you to choose your path in life for yourself, not for me or for him. And when you finally chose to go with him and what your father's last wishes had been, I realised that our relationship was very difficult from the start."

Cagalli nodded unhappily. "Yes- there was all of that. I was advised by both the Seirans and the Council of Elders that he would be the most suitable. Yuuna was aware of our relationship, actually. But he reminded me that he was the real fiancé, not you, and that giving myself to Patrick Zala's son was only asking for trouble with Orb."

"But Athrun," She said, looking at him pleadingly, "Back then, I was really thinking of how disappointed my father would be if I abdicated and chose to follow you to the Plants. I didn't even know that you were fighting for our sake, and that Dullindal had given you an incentive to return."

Cagalli bowed her head, whispering. "I thought that if I could try and forget you, you wouldn't have to return as Alex Dino and face criticism and prejudice in Orb. You know that would be very likely. But I swear that I never rejected you and went against my promise directly merely because you were the son of Patrick Zala."

"I accept that." He said quietly, stroking her hand.

"I want to understand you more too, Athrun." Cagalli whispered. "Tell me why you believe your father never loved you."

Athrun stared at her. In his mind, he knew that the warning bells were ringing. This was precisely what Yzak had been afraid of- this was precisely what Yzak had been trying to avoid by having them separated. To be fair to Yzak, Athrun had to try to be objective in fulifling his duties, but surely this was only fair to Cagalli?

"I'll tell you." Athurn decided there and then. "Not because this is a contract, but it's only fair since you let me into your mind."

She reached forward with both hands, holding his in hers as he looked at her wondering how to express himself to what she'd assumed- that he hated his father.

"My father is my ghost." He said unsurely. "I don't know how to explain it except that way. But every time I think of him, I'm not sure if I love or hate him, only that it hurts me to think of him. He wanted so much of me, Cagalli. I tried, I really did, but I could never see eye to eye with him. The only thing we agreed on back then, was that we wanted revenge for the same person."

She nodded. "But when you were a child, didn't he care for you?"

Athrun gave her a small, bitter smile. "In some ways, I suppose. But it was never because I was more than a responsibility he'd planned for from the start. I don't think he ever loved me for being more than something he fathered. The day I realised that was when he told me not to visit him any more in his office."

Cagalli's eyes widened. "How could h-,"

"At first I thought he was disappointed with me." Athrun admitted. "I thought I wasn't rising up the ranks fast enough. That seemed to fit when I wanted him to share my joy at being made a redcoat but he brushed me off."

Ruefully, he looked at her, smiling a little self-consciously. "Are you sure you want to hear all this? It only makes me look like I have a father complex, which is probably true anyway. It's not the most sexually attractive thing to hear of right now. Frankly, I'd rather be whispering into your ear, telling you of how exceptional you look tonight instead of raking up painful memories."

She smiled, shaking her head a little. Despite how tense the situation was, he was taking a dig at himself and trying to show consideration for her. How like Athrun to think of others first, Cagalli thought wistfully. How like him to want to hide himself away because he was afraid of seeming weak and didn't want to bother anyone.

"No, I want you to tell me about this." Cagalli insisted. "I never really met your father except through the media. He seemed like a very powerful, stern but charismatic figure."

"He was like that," Athrun agreed. "But you were there with me when he died, and you saw him use his last breath to tell me to press the trigger. That's what he wanted for me, Cagalli. To become him. To-," His voice died away, and he looked away. "To _be_ him."

She bit her lips in consternation. But somehow it made sense why Athrun could not free himself from the memories of his father. As a boy, she could imagine Athrun being in awe of his father and striving to do everything perfectly and behaving as best as he could because he wanted to please his father.

As a young adult, Athrun must have realised the divergence between his own beliefs and his father's, and that had slowly made him his own person and not his father's. She'd caused that in him, she'd asked him to question his beliefs, along with the rest of the horrific experiences that war was giving him. By the end of the first war, he'd realised that he couldn't be his father, even when his father had begged him to try.

"I'd never seen him in any kind of pitiful state before," Athrun confessed. "When I was growing up, he was always dressed formally- always the businessman, the politician, the competent husband. He always looked like he could handle anything or control anyone-," He trailed off, closing his eyes briefly.

Cagalli watched him, a growing sadness in her. Athrun probably didn't realise it, but he was rather like his father in that sense, even if unconsciously. Whispering, she asked, "As a father?"

Athrun looked pained. "I'm not sure about what fatherhood meant to him. I've never seen him out of his business suit or his council uniform, that's for sure. No photographs of him either, when he was wearing anything you might see on fathers relaxing at home."

"Surely he was also upset about that?" Cagalli objected.

"He didn't seem to regret not spending more time with us." Athrun said firmly. "He missed my mother from time to time and he'd request for her to visit him. But never for me to follow. He never wanted to see me. Even the books he gave me were those he'd grown up reading- the way a mother would possibly present her daughter with fairytale books and colourful illustrations. Those books made me think his way of caring was normal and even right."

She understood. She'd snuck into Alex Dino's small room within the Atha Estate one day, found a box of books he'd had with him, and chosen one which Patrick Zala had apparently given him. That book had featured a family, brilliant thinkers and individually very talented, but with social norms and familial ties collapsing despite or even because of their intellect and ambition.

Athrun had found her in his room, reading and silent tears falling from her eyes. He'd come to her, smiling softly, in that guarded way she'd become used to, and asked her why she was crying. She hadn't been able to answer, but now, she could.

"When I read the books you'd received as a child," Cagalli said in a low voice, "I was saddened without knowing why. But I think I do now. It's because your father didn't know how to love you."

He nodded, closing his eyes. "In the past, I doubted that he knew how to love at all. But that's why it hurts to think of him now, because I know he did try to love me the way he loved my mother." He took her away to hold her face in his hands. Her eyes were slightly damp, but she was controlled and very calm.

Athrun's mouth was a slight frown. "I received his diaries after I left Orb unwillingly and returned to Plant. They were in a family safe I finally opened because I was clearing out my things to come here."

She remained silent, knowing that it was taking him a great deal of courage to say what he then did.

"He went mad after my mother died. It became very obvious from the way he'd plan for lunches and meetings with my mother even when she'd died a year before that. At first I thought it was a way of dealing with her death, but then it became very clear that he was really insane."

Cagalli stared. "And nobody knew of this?"

He laughed, an empty, tired chuckle. "No. Insane people are often the most paranoid and careful people around. They plan and they hide their illness in ways that you wouldn't even expect. Besides, my father had lots of support for his ideals. After Junius Seven, everyone thought that the Coordinators had to fight back and even attack Naturals. It was quite natural that nobody suspected it was really personal vendetta at the root of all of the bloodshed and sacrifice."

"And that is why I feel that I've failed him even up until today." Athrun admitted readily. "I feel guilt when I think of how he looked at me with al those wounds and begged me to start Genesis for him. In that moment, if you hadn't been next to me to remind me of who I really was, I-,"

He broke off, rubbing his face with his hands, showing the cracks in his unreadable mask. "I don't know. I'm haunted by that indecision, that moment when I could have made him happy for once, even if I lived on and was tormented by it."

Cagalli looked at the suffering in his face and realised what he'd meant when he'd told her that his father was his ghost.

She understood, because her father was her ghost too. All these years, she had found herself wondering if she'd been less unhappy if she'd fought to return to her father's side when he'd stayed behind in that blaze of fire. She'd have died without the burden she'd assumed by living on for her father.

"I'm sorry," Cagalli broke in miserably. "I made you turn against your father, didn't I? I made you take that decision that you couldn't carry on his plans for him."

"No, it's not anybody's fault or even anything to do with fault here," He reassured her. "I'm telling you this because I want you to know that you gave me a chance to choose my own identity. Just like Lacus and Kira. And that's why I should thank you."

She bit her lips, wanting to tell him that he too, had given her a chance to decide for herself by bringing her away to a place where her will mattered more than that of those around her of those long dead and gone.

What she managed however, must have conveyed her emotions to him. "You gave me that choice too, by bringing me here to the Isle."

And yet, Cagalli wondered how she could really choose when time was slipping by. While she was slowly but surely losing the will to return to Orb immediately, she would have to return ultimately.

Now, Athrun gave her no time to mull over these things, for he stood up abruptly. His gaze even more focused than before. "I'm done here."

He moved over to her and Cagalli gaped at him. His voice was husky, if not slightly roguish, but pleading, tender and all too demanding at once. "Bed time."

She gaped at him, stammering a little because his expressed desire was so sudden and unexpected. "What-,"

"You can't refuse me." He commanded, pulling her out of her chair. He smiled his first real smile and she stared, seeing how hesitant, sad and strangely attractive he was. With her hand in his, he began leading them both along the corridor to his room, ignoring her questions and her unawareness of the turmoil within him.

If Yzak had been here to witness this, Athrun couldn't help thinking still, he'd have been dismayed to realise that Athrun was doing exactly as he'd promised and sworn not to.

And that was to throw everything away for a woman who would not and could not return the same he'd sacrificed for her.

* * *

The curtains of the four poster hung, still and translucent, and the shapes within them merged in embrace then separated. He was panting slightly, depositing kisses on the slope of her neck, thinking of how she must have suffered. She was mewling in pleasure, her eyes sparkling.

"This is what it's supposed to be like," Athrun was murmuring between kisses. "Not us fighting, but this. The way we are now. This-," She felt him bury his face near her neck, his lips scorching her flesh, and she leaned back, pulling him above her. Her face crumbled and she hugged him, whispering that she wanted to trust him. He knew she already did. He had planned it that way. He wanted her to. He wanted her.

Cagalli watched him smile softly. Then she huddled herself against him, enveloping him in her embrace, feeling him push her deeper into the bed. Now, Athrun looked at her silently and began to stroke her cheek. She held his face in her hands too, kissing him on the cheek. He returned it, chaste and soft on her lips. But she deepened it, and what had started off as mutual comfort began to change.

She watched in a semi-daze as he pulled them apart, sitting upright although still above her. But she sat up too, helping him undo his shirt, wrenching it off and tossing it to the floor.

He would not fold it into that white envelope of cloth, Cagalli decided, not tonight. She didn't want him to think anymore, or to rationalise or to be cautious. She knew he would not take her, for it was clear in the way he shook his head once and kissed her gently on her forehead, but at very least, Cagalli wanted him to be uninhibited with her for once.

She was right, although she did not really understand what he was afraid of. But for Athrun, he knew that taking her would surely betray Yzak's trust in him, and Athrun did not want that. Yzak had gone against his better judgement to let Athrun hold onto Cagalli and to tell Athrun of something so intensely private to Cagalli; something that had made them grow much closer.

Now, Athrun decided that he couldn't do more than that for Yzak's sake.

Still, he wanted to hold her now, to feel her against him. In sheer desire, he reached to her breasts, fondling them roughly, feeling the shining, attractive pendant nestle between those.

"When I saw you wearing these," He told her quietly, "I wanted you to wear everything I could give you."

She didn't understand it as he really did. She stared at him, confused. "Haven't you seen me wear other jewels you've picked?"

"Hush," He interrupted her, touching a earlobe gently. Only he knew of that memory; that pain and hollowness of watching her while he was alone. He reached to her chin, holding it and kissing her delicately.

Not understanding, Cagalli willingly kissed him back. He was still glad however, that she had not learnt of what he had done to keep her safe all those years she knew all he'd planned against her, she'd never let him near her even with a ten-foot pole, let alone let him touch her and enter her mind.

All Athrun wanted now was just to touch her for what she'd allowed him and for him to remember those years before when he'd been so far away. Back then, he'd been forced to watch her and know that he had lost her. But now, she was here, and she'd let him know her all over again even if he couldn't take everything.

"Tuck your hair behind your ear," Athrun instructed her, his voice rough and soft.

She sat up a little straighter, doing so hesitantly, not really understanding. His eyes darted to the earring she wore, and she saw him release a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Athrun watched her quietly, then leaned towards her, kissing her deeply.

As he did, he brushed his hands against her breasts and she felt a strange sense of incongruity. Cagalli whispered, "Did you choose this for a reason?"

But he only smiled, a small secretive smile.

"Put your elbows on my shoulders," He whispered to her. The firmness in his voice left no room for question. "And hold my head close to you."

She did as he asked, effectively bringing him closer to her. "Like this?"

"Like this." He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, smiling a little as he ran his hands on her breasts more roughly now. She trembled, and he turned his mouth a little, nibbling at her lightly. She gasped in pleasure, tweaking his ears then bringing her mouth to his forehead, pressing her lips there. "Athrun, tell me why you gave me all those-,"

"Because you deserve to have beautiful things." He murmured, pulling her even closer to him by pressing her forward with his hands planted on his back. "In the past, I thought you didn't like dresses or jewels or anything remotely feminine, but I never understood all your insecurities. You were afraid, weren't you? You thought you'd be written off as a frivolous woman who didn't know what real suffering was to even begin serving Orb."

She trembled, feeling him rake his lips against her chest, shuddering with sensation and wanting to pull away because it was too pleasurable to bear like this.

But she was trapped in his arms and he was whispering, "You didn't understand that you deserve all that you denied and even more. That's why I'm giving you these- that's why I want you to have everything."

His lips closed around her and he began to apply more pressure with his tongue and suction with his mouth. She keened, arching herself to him, her actions involuntary and instinctive.

He thought of how she'd looked on that screen, far away, cold and flat, glassy surface as he'd rubbed his cheek against what he'd imagined to be her. She had stretched, her ankles raised above ground, and he'd wished then that he was with her, that he could touch her and know that her warm, breathing self was his and only his.

His breath catching in his throat, he let go of her and moved them both swiftly to lie on their sides, and then caught her waist with one hand, his other hand fondling her soft breasts. This was why he had agreed to the offer she'd made when she'd traded half her body for information. He'd remembered what he'd seen, and he knew that a chance to hold her was better than none.

That awful gnawing loneliness as he'd watched her alone, a thousand miles away from her, had resonated too deeply in him. But all that was changing, all because he'd realised he was willing to throw everything away for her.

So she was his, Athrun's mind argued. She was his, his, his. It had been his face that she remembered even when the trauma had made her abort all her memories; it had been his name that she'd called out to.

Her voice was a murmur as she shifted down, her hands stroking him softly. "Let me send another letter back to Kira."

"No-," His voice trembled with emotion- pain and shock, but with clear lust. "We agreed not to make any more contracts-,"  
"This isn't one," She insisted, her face near her stomach, enjoying the feeling of his rigid lines tensing even more because of the contact. "I just want to tell him that he has to be strong for me, and that he must not blame himself. That's all."

Athrun studied her. She was telling him that it wasn't a trading of favours anymore; that they'd already gone past that. But he was afraid, afraid that if he refused, she'd lock herself away and deny him access to her mind and body.

He didn't want that, Athrun told himself fiercely. He could go without touching her if he was forced to, but he didn't want her to reject him and hide her feelings and thoughts from him.

Scarcely considering all the dangers of a new letter being sent, he said, almost to himself, "You're not writing anything else…"

"I'm not writing anything else. I won't betray you." She promised, reassuring him as she ran her fingers like water against his abdomen and then thighs. Without knowing anything anymore except the way she felt against him, he leaned back into the pillows, nodding tersely, shuddering.

He heard her whisper her gratefulness, and Athrun found that it made him feel sorrow but joy simultaneously. At least she would forgive herself and Kira this way.

Cagalli watched as Athrun trembled like a man with the ague. He was feverish to touch. If there was anything she wanted right now, it was to have him know that she wasn't interested in a contract- she was only interested in understanding him and pleasing him.

She felt him pant a little, and she thought of how sad he'd looked when he'd spoken of his father and Lyra. He'd been hurt too many times, Cagalli thought painfully. She couldn't hurt him; she didn't want to let him know how insecure she felt about Lyra. She knew he'd be devastated if she really told him that she was upset, and all Cagalli wanted was for him to allow her near and for her to try and make him forget the past.

She felt him shift nervously on the bed, and she got up from the bed, parting the curtains as she moved away. Dazed, he stared and did not understand, but his mind didn't want to function for him anymore.

It was like she had locked his mind but awoken his body to all he had made it forget over the years- how it was like to be touched and to feel his blood race and pool in him. The absence of her near him made him feel cold suddenly, and his body panicked even when his mind remained slow and sluggish.

He closed his eyes now, begging for time to stop now, her words a mantra in his mind. The tears were building, but he would not let those fall. "You won't betray me. You won't betray me. You won't betr-"

But then she returned, and he didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. He was still chanting her words in his mind as he opened his eyes, wondering whether to refuse to go through with this even though his body was aching for a release and he knew she would have wanted to touch him even if he had not agreed to her request.

"You won't betray me." Athrun whispered hoarsely, his eyes beginning to sting. Her form pushed past the hanging curtains and Cagalli moved back into the bed. "Don't betray me."

He was not sure if she had heard him, but he saw her smile teasingly, daringly even. Her eyes amber and watching him tenderly. And he watched, not quite sure of himself or her anymore, as she laid down, laying a kiss on him and simultaneously slipping him gently between her plush lips as they made contact with his flesh.

Her mouth was filled with warm, almost burning but not too hot water, and he closed his eyes, uttering a silent cry of mad gratification, muttering for something, anything to save him if that was even vaguely possible now.

* * *

Thirty-five hours later, Kira held up a letter to the light, observing it. In the small service-apartment he'd rented for a few days while here in Plant, he felt somewhat constricted and even claustrophobic. Lacus had sounded much weaker than he'd ever heard her, but she'd been cheerful, waiting expectantly for his visit. His heart ached, and he wondered if it would be too much to bring her back to their house for a while.

But he'd had to deal with it, since going home to his house was just too much time spent. Besides, he had something to work on. The exact seal had been used again, and Cagalli's handwriting looked steady this time. Again, no fingerprints were on the letter save hers, but then Kira had already been sure with the first letter that she had wrote these.

Now however, he was sure of another thing.

Folding it and locking it carefully into his briefcase, Kira turned to Aaron, who was staring at him. When he'd received the letter, Kira had called back to Orb for Aaron Biliensky to join him here. Where this place was secure and their privacy was assured, he'd showed Aaron the second letter.

"I don't understand-," Aaron stammered. "When the letter came in, it was with all the other mail, just like the last one. But there's no way of tracking, no way of understanding who sent it in, and there are no witnesses to have seen anyone putting in a letter into a normal post-box which was somehow addressed to Kira Yamato!"

Kira smiled, not expecting Aaron to understand because Kira had planned all of this on his own. "But we can trust that it's her."

"Yes," Aaron agreed, "Because this one is addressed specifically to you with contents even I have no idea about. I trust they correspond to whatever you were seeking forgiveness from?"

"It corresponds." Kira answered simply. "Amongst many other things."

He turned to the phone, dialling a number. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but there was steel in his posture and his eyes that Aaron had never been so aware of. Aaron stared at the number Kira's finger was resting on, and with some astonishment, Aaron realised Kira had dialled the number for his own department back in Zaft.

He looked back at Kira, who was patiently waiting as the lines presumably connected. When he spoke, Kira's voice was quiet and assuming, but very firm. "I am Kira Yamato, Proxy of Orb and previous Zaft General of this department."

There was a pause and Aaron could hear the answerer sputter. "Sir, you cannot just-,"

Kira paused, then said in nothing less than a command, "Get Meyrin Hawke of the Zaft department of Information and Technology, sub-deparment G-4A on the line."

* * *

She felt the steam of the hot water rise over her, reminding her of the way his soft breaths had been akin to a scarf, clothing and warming her. She coloured a little, remembering the way he'd looked at her reluctantly and told her he had to leave.

Just hours ago, Athrun had came to her room to take the letter that she'd completed. He'd moved to her side as she'd sat at a table, and Cagalli had passed it to him hesitantly. He hadn't even glanced at it but smiled softly at her, putting it straight into an envelope that was already addressed to Kira Yamato.

She'd been very quiet, realising how much he was willing to risk for her; realising that he trusted her. Cagalli had also been wondering what Kira would say and how he'd respond, and without knowing why, she'd began to cry quietly.

"Sorry," She'd said weakly, trying to smile through her tears. "I don't know what's coming over m-,"

But Athrun must have had sensed how lost and lonely she felt, for he had left it aside. Then he'd pulled her out of her seat, and brought her to her bed, sitting her down on it and holding her wordlessly until she'd regained control of her emotions. She'd been reminded of how they had all used to be; how she had once thought of Kira as something she'd regained after she lost it; how she had once relied on Athrun when the world did not seem to understand or accept her anymore.

Neither of them had said anything even when he'd gently dried the last of her tears and laid her on the bed, kissing her on her lips once, then undoing her shift-dress delicately, as if she would panic and try to run.

But as she had watched him, as he'd touched her softly and then in an increasingly demanding manner, Cagalli knew she was already bound to him. It wasn't a matter of reminiscence, circumstance or even happenstance. It was inevitability. If he had chosen to take her there and then, it would have only been a physical extension of the relationship they'd unwittingly and ultimately been caught in.

Cagalli stepped out of the shower, slicking her hair back with her fingers. It was still long and she was strangely getting used to it. She thought of the way Athrun had ran his fingers in it before he'd left, saying in that hushed voice that could send thrills down her body so easily, "You have existing debts, don't you?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to make any contract?"

"Yes, but I want my payment for the existing ones." His lips had curved into a bow, and her lips quivered as he placed a kiss on her mouth.

"What do you want?"

She had paid him for telling her about Lyra, but Cagalli hadn't exchanged anything for the first letter he'd sent or his telling her about Harumi and Ko.

"For the first letter I sent, I want you to cut your hair. For my telling you about Kitani Harumi and her son, I'll collect it some other time."

She'd found herself responding to him with an eagerness that made her both embarrassed but with so much pleasure and trust in him that she could not prevent herself from calling out to him while he was with her.

Even now, she could still what she'd experience when he'd come to her a few hours ago. Cagalli could remember his tongue ravishing and paying her attention as she'd cried for him. But Athrun had been unable to stay for long as he'd explained eventually, since he had to leave the Isle for a while.

She had been dismayed, although she had hidden it well enough and smiled, nodding silently when he told her he would return soon. Time here without him, seemed to be forced through cracks that too narrow even for the smallest sand grains. But when he was here with her, time slipped by quickly.

Even last night, they had certainly spent time in a way that made her wonder if her time with him was actually flowing faster than it really was. As they'd lain in bed, their bodies in the compact tessellation of two in embrace, he'd shared more of his childhood with her.

They'd spoken and laughed over what Kira had used to be like and probably was still like in some ways, with clumsiness inherent in him and a kind of shyness he could never curb. Athrun had been introduced to Kira on Coppernicus all those years ago, and now, Cagalli felt that from what Athrun told her, that she'd grown up with them and shared her childhood with them too.

He would tell her more, Cagalli thought shyly, beginning to dry herself. He'd promised her he'd return soon.

As she dried herself and then stepped out into her room, fetching some clothes, Cagalli stared at the mirror. Blushing slightly, she turned away and began to dress. Athrun was surely a possessive lover if she could even think of him as that, despite her thinking that he would be a gentle, if not very cautious one. In some sense, he was both. For Athrun was always considerate, trying to be careful with her even when it was clear she wanted him to be completely uninhibited with her.

It wasn't fair, she thought a bit sulkily, that he could see her come undone so completely and yet, stop her from seeing him in the same situation. Even when he was worked up beyond a certain level of self-control, he'd bite her in his frenzy of need but not allow her to satisfy him completely.

It didn't hurt, she thought distractedly, looking at her shoulder where a very faint imprint was. He was always trying to rein himself in, always trying to be very careful even when she tried to make him lose his control over both of them. It felt distinctively pleasurable, like he was dominating her, like she would not be free of him- like he would not let go of her even when he was satisfied.

A knock shook her out of her daze, and Cagalli looked up from where she was sitting, calling out, "Come in!"

Epstein moved through the doorway, and she grinned up at him. He smiled too, but as she came in, she noticed he'd brought in someone.

"Miss Cagalli!"

She squealed as Ko rushed straight at her, nearly jumping into her arms as she hugged him instinctively. He was a child with boundless energy, Cagalli thought briefly, and as if to confirm her thoughts, Ko bounced on the spot and said excitedly, "Epstein said you'd play with me!"

Pepita was rushing around, barking madly and Epstein picked the puppy up, letting it lick his face once. He grinned at Cagalli

Cagalli suddenly realised that someone was stepping into her room. Immediately, she focused on the doorway as Ko turned too, and Epstein looked mildly at all of them and said, "Well, I guess I better do the introductions. Harumi, this is Cagalli Yula Atha. Cagalli,-"

Cagalli stared at the woman who was looking imperiously at her. "You're Kitani Harumi, aren't you?"

Ko looked at her in surprise. "You know my mother?"

"Ko." Harumi said with a touch of sternness entering her immaculate, beautifully fair face. "We are friends."

Harumi's voice was lightly accented, Cagalli noticed, and it made her ethnicity quite clear. In fact, it took all of Cagalli's willpower to keep her jaws together. But then Harumi looked at her, a small, sly smile playing on her reddened lips, and Cagalli realised that Harumi could not be contradicted right here.

"You will play in the garden first," Harumi said simply, but in a voice so authoritative that Cagalli could not imagine Ko disobeying. "I want to speak to Cagalli alone."

Ko looked with frightened eyes at the adults, then nodded meekly. Epstein bent to let Pepita free, and together, the child and the puppy rush from the room, Ko closing it.

Harumi turned back to Cagalli, her eyes dark and glimmering obsidian in that white face. Epstein watched the two women quietly.

Nervously, Cagalli stood. "You have a beautiful son. I-,"

"I know," Harumi said with a cold, proud countenance but with tender, pained eyes. "And for that reason, and because I know he gets along well with you, I requested Epstein to let me meet you."

Then Harumi smiled abruptly, and Cagalli stared, astonished at how different Harumi seemed now. Her voice was lighter now, and she said sweetly, "Thank you. I'm glad to hear that, because I'd like to ask a favour of you."

Cagalli remembered what Athrun had told her about this woman. Like Ezalia Joule, this woman was not to be slighted. She drew in a breath, nodding hesitantly. "I'll try if I'm capable of helping."

"I would like you to look after my son in replacement of me."

"What?"

Harumi smiled a little. "This is the Isle and I know an exchange is necessary. Of course, any place in the world is like that. So tell me. What do you want in return for that?"

"Wait," Cagalli said quickly, "I don't want anything at all. But why are you asking me to look after Ko? You are-,"

"I am his mother," Harumi admitted readily. "But I cannot look after him and be with him at all times. That's the reason why I brought him to the Isle. Rune Estragon looks after him and teaches him in return for my help in managing his estate. But even that will not suffice. Ko is young, and he needs a mother's love. He has a father who mollycoddles him," She looked reproachfully at Epstein, who grinned a little. "And he needs a mother."

"I can't give him that," Cagalli told her nervously. "I'm not his mother. I can't be his mother the way you are naturally his."

"What you can give is good enough." Harumi tilted her head slightly but in a manner that suggested great elegance. "I want you to look after Ko for me while you are here. As a mother would."

In that moment, as their eyes met, Cagalli knew she could not refuse this woman. How could she, when she could sense the woman's pain, even when she could not truly empathise?

"I'll look after him." Cagalli whispered, vowing inside her that she would. While she was not entirely clear of their characters, she knew of their background, and Ko's innocence had drawn her to the child. "I'll protect him with my life if I have to."

Harumi smiled. "Thank you. Ko's a child. He needs a woman's touch when surrounded by all this grime and training. When I'm not here, there's only the maids and Epstein, or Rune Estragon at best. The maids are so near his age- the most they will be are his sisters."

Cagalli looked at her newly-made friend with a teasing, soft grin. Her boldness must have surprised Harumi, who stared at her. "But you told Epstein not to mollycoddle him."

"Perhaps," Harumi said with a laugh, "I'm jealous. I don't want anyone to take my place with Ko. But you won't- he thinks we are similar. He told me so when I came here today. And that's all the better, because he won't forget me."

Cagalli stepped forward and almost defiantly, hugged the cold, beautiful woman, bringing her warmth in the embrace.

It was not in Cagalli's nature to be afraid of stranger, although she was cautious enough. But for Harumi, Cagalli had seen that flash of pain and sorrow in her, and Cagalli wanted to comfort her for a reason more instinctive than obvious to herself.

Harumi did not respond, although there was a clear acceptance of the embrace.

"Thank you," Harumi said again emphatically. "Send Ko my love."

"I will," Cagalli nodded. Harumi bent forward abruptly and kissed Cagalli on the cheek, and flushing, Cagalli watched as Rune Estragon's business partner moved out of the room.

She turned back to Epstein, who had been watching quietly all this while. Her voice was determined, he could hear.

"Let's go. Ko's waiting."

* * *

Later in the day, after Ko had been sent off for his training, Epstein sat her in front of the vanity mirror. She was still breathless, her face flushed from the Frisbee that the three of them had been engaged with. As they had ran and played in the garden, the birdsong had seemed to swell around them, and Ko's laughter, Pepita's barking and their voices had drawn out the marmalade tomcat that Cagalli had met a long time ago.

The cat had wandered to them, and she'd picked it up, rubbing it's round, large head with some bliss as it complained in a greasy, whiny sort of voice. Apparently, as Ko had told her, Athrun had presented it to Epstein a long time ago, and Pepita had been the counterpart to Ko.

The memory of what Athrun had said about his father disallowing a pet had stirred emotions in her. The cat in her arms and Pepita running around Ko's ankles had made her think of Athrun. As a child, he'd been denied something, and despite his efforts to distance himself, he'd somehow drawn near to them.

"So what do you think of Ko?" Epstein chirped.

"He's a wonderful child," She said happily, still excited as she sat down. She was chattering away, her hands animated in the air, and only Epstein's running his hand through her hair made her pause.

"Hey-what?"

"Now let's see," Epstein was muttering, "How should I get started on this? Right- rags!"

He disappeared to the bathroom, and alarmed, Cagalli got up. But he was back in a jiffy, and with a sparkling grin, he tossed the towels over the floor, pulling her back into a seat and putting yet another towel over her shoulders.

"Epstein," Cagalli protested, "What's happening?"

"This is what's happening," Epstein drawled, pulling out a photograph from his shirt pocket. "You getting your hair trimmed. It's a bit long now, no?"

"You know how to cut hair!" She was impressed. "You double as a chauffeur, a cook! And now this!"

"Oh!" She looked at him in the mirror as he leaned over her shoulder, measuring a strand of her hair to her chin and then taking a pair of scissors. He dropped a photograph on the vanity table and she stared down at what he was using for reference. "Where'd you get-,"

"From him."

She fell silent, not knowing what to say, but she tried to relax as Epstein carefully snipped off a long lock, restoring it to her original length.

Epstein's voice was a bit guarded. "He wouldn't say why he had this."

She shrugged, her heart beating and her pulse thundering. "Google?"

"Yeah." Epstein said calmly. "I'm sure there are plenty of photographs of you sleeping in a chair in front of the fire with a Zaft jacket to keep you warm. It's as common as the official ones you release to the press, I suppose."

She bit her lips, not knowing what to say. The photograph in front of her had been taken by Athrun without her knowledge, and from the looks of it, this had been captured sometime before he'd left for Plant during the Second War.

As Epstein cut her hair, she realised that she was looking very different now. While he'd only started layering her hair, she felt a strange sense of familiarity, although she wasn't sure it was enough to keep her fears at bay.

"Epstein," Cagalli said in a tiny voice, "Have you met Lyra Delphius before?"

The sound of Epstein's scissors stopped and she closed her eyes, feeling tense and not daring to look at his expression in the mirror.

"I've seen her before." Epstein said quietly.

The silence persisted.

"She doesn't really look like you."

"Only that she's blonde."

"No, I meant that you are both very different."

She opened her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"When I met her," Epstein explained, "It was fairly obvious that she'd been through something that'd locked her up. Something very closed, very hollowed, something beautiful but weathered down. There was something in her that made people nervous, nervous and a bit conscious of themselves. But you-,"

He kissed her cheek, shifting the towel a little. "You make people remember why they can face the world. And that's why he couldn't forget you." He cut the last few strands of hair. "Voila."

Her eyes widened.

* * *

"How may I help you, Kira?" Meyrin's voice was very sweet and a bit high-pitched. She nodded as he showed her in, directing her to sit on the sofa while he fetched some tea for her. While in a uniform and briefcase, Meyrin looked highly professional. Lacus was very fond of her, as Kira understood it, and she'd often invited Meyrin over to the house.

She was truly a very lovable person, Kira thought briefly, looking at Meyrin. Her innocent face often fooled the world into how tough she really was, and Kira admired her spunk.

"How is Lacus?" Meyrin inquired, continuing on with the niceties.

"Feeling a little worse for wear," He said honestly, "But she's going strong and I'm going to visit her soon. Your sister and Shinn, Meyrin?"

"They're fine," Meyrin assured him. "They're still a bit childish- still arguing about stpid things, really. But they're fine." She beamed, but then sobered a little. "Shinn was worried about Miss Cagalli."

"I see." Kira said soberly. "Thank him for his concern on my behalf."

"I'm glad they could finally talk things through though," Meyrin said in a low voice. "If they hadn't-," She trailed off, looking apologetic. "He told me that he understood her much better after he'd worked for her."

"He was her bodyguard for a while," Kira reminded Meyrin. "They see the weakest points of their employers and their employers rely a lot on them. It surprised me though, that he wanted to work as her bodyguard."

"Well," Meyrin paused, "My sister says he told her he wanted to live in Orb for a while, and there was that opening for that job. So he decided to take it up even though he didn't expect to eventually be assigned to Miss Cagalli."

"But it worked out for the best, didn't it?" Kira smiled a little. "Even though Shinn is such a nomad he couldn't possibly have stuck around for so long. That's what Lacus told me anyway, from Cagalli."

"Right." She nodded. Then her expression became concerned. "Surely, you didn't just call me here to catch up?"

As Meyrin ran a hand through her hair, Kira was drawn to it. Her hair was in loose waves of red, and he was reminded of Fllay Alster, except that Meyrin's hair was a brighter, even more prominent shade.

"Meyrin," He said quietly, "I'd like to know what happened right after the Second war. When Athrun Zala decided to return to Orb to find Cagalli, what happened?"

He heard her take in a breath sharply. "Kira- I don't- I can't say w-,"  
"Please." He found himself pleadingly. "I really need to know. It concerns more than you realise, and I need you to tell me what you know."

"Alright." Meyrin said uncertainly. Her eyes regarded him gravely, and he realised it was taking quite a bit of her willpower to remain calm.

"I was prepared to go anywhere with him," Meyrin told him reluctantly. "I was certain that I loved him more than anybody else, and I wanted him to return my feelings. But he never seemed to really notice me, and he never really responded to me in the way I wanted. Before I could even tell him that he was free to pursue the life he wanted, he was already making plans to return back to Orb. Then he informed me of his plans, quite casually even, like he wasn't expecting me to take a blow from that. I knew I'd lost him without even having even had him."

Kira watched as her small shoulders trembled a little. Comfortingly, he came to sit by Meyrin and drew his arm around her, imagining she was Cagalli, knowing that deep down, she was ashamed. She was ashamed of her weakness, ashamed of how deeply she had fallen in love, ashamed of how hopeful and presumptuous she had been.

"I returned him the ring that Miss Cagalli had asked me to keep," Meyrin said dejectedly. "And when I told him what she'd said on the Archangel, it made him even more determined to return to Orb. It was difficult to, you know."

Kira raised her head, looking at her now in surprise. "Difficult?"

She stared at him, nodding. "It wasn't an official statement or anything, but since I was tagging along with him for most part, I knew some of the difficulties he was going through. The Supreme Council wanted him to serve Zaft again- to return back there for a while and then maybe work a few years before he was promoted into the Supreme Council."

"That makes sense," Kira said slowly, "Because he'd proved himself to be a very good soldier during both wars."

"But he was upset." Meyrin revealed. "I'm not sure exactly why, and he never explained himself to me. But I think it was because he was so set on returning back to Orb, where he felt it was the one place he could really belong to. Probably because he wanted to return to Miss Cagalli." She murmured. "And he did go back there, didn't he?"

"Yes." Kira said slowly, "Last I heard, he was accepted into the military quite readily, and his achievements made him an Admiral, I think."

"But why didn't he reunite with Miss Cagalli?" Meyrin questioned. "I heard rumours that he hadn't really gone to Orb but had come back to Zaft. I tried looking around for him, but nobody had seen him, and the database was completely wiped clean of him."

"And what did you find?"

She shook her head. "It was like he'd never existed. One of my colleagues said he'd relinquished all his personal possessions to the state, and he'd disappeared shortly after that. He didn't take anything with him, apparently. None of his books, his things- nothing. They were put in boxes and moved out of the apartment he was supposed to be living in. But I never found out were those things were sent to." Her eyes were wide with concern, and she cocked her head, not really understanding.

But Kira already knew who could possibly have received and safe-kept everything for Athrun. Yzak Joule must have had gotten hold of Athrun's possessions, and he was therefore the only one who Kira would be able to force information from.

Of course, Kira had already been aware that Yzak Joule was in contact with Athrun Zala from the minute h'ed gotten the letter from Cagalli with her forgiveness written in it. What had started off to be a hunch had confirmed two things- that she was being held by Ahturn Zala, who in turn was getting information from Yzak Joule.

After all, only Kira knew of how Cagalli had reacted to the memories of Athrun in her traumatised state, and the only person who he'd told was Yzak. The only person who'd have allowed Cagalli to write this letter even while knowing the risks to his own safety was Athrun Zala, because Athrun Zala would have wanted Kira to patch things up with Cagalli.

"Why didn't she accept him?" Meyrin asked despondently.

Kira knew exactly what Cagalli had done and what she'd decided when she'd forced Athrun from Orb. He could not bring himself to tell Meyrin, so instead, he covered the truth. "Cagalli had already decided to move on. She didn't have the same feelings he'd kept for her. So he left Orb, although the circumstances he left in are unclear even up until today."

This was partially true though. Cagalli had prevented any news of the death of the then Orb Prime Minister from being tied to Athrun Zala but had forcefully ejected him from Orb. If Meyrin had passed Athrun the ring, Kira deduced, he must have tried to give it to Cagalli upon returning to Orb. And if Cagalli had refused him, then Athrun Zala still had the ring.

He paused, thinking deeply. What had happened to the ring? Surely, if Athrun had relinquished all his possessions back in Zaft before disappearing, that meant someone could still be safekeeping the ring.

If he could track the person down, Kira realised, then that person could tell him where Athrun was. But would Athrun have given the ring to someone to safe-keep?

"What happened to Athrun after that?" Meyrin was asking. "He's been missing since then and nobody's seen him." Her eyes widened again. "Did you meet him or hear from him since then, Kira?"

Kira paused, then nodded. "I heard from him. Just once."

His heart sank. He'd gone on a wild goose chase and still found nothing that could lead him to Athrun. Only Yzak Joule could help him or tell him where Athrun Zala was, and Kira knew that was unlikely.

But Kira had the note. For this note to have been written, Kira thought distractedly, Athrun must have surely wanted to give Cagalli the chance to patch things up with Kira. Kira had always been sure of this, even when his trap was inevitably set such that Athrun would know Kira was suspecting him, and that by sending a letter for Cagalli, he was confirming Kira's suspicions.

Kira hadn't expected Athrun to play into his hands, for surely, the circle that Athrun had bound himself in was too tight; too secretive. Kira knew for certain that Athrun would not be found if he didn't want to be. So why had Athrun played into his hands?

In fact, Kira had been expecting Yzak to reveal Kira as the informer of Cagalli's past. From there, Kira had expected Athrun to confront Cagalli about it. As Kira had reasoned, Cagalli would have then insisted on writing to tell Kira something. And by letting her do so, Athrun would be confirming to Kira that it was he holding Cagalli captive.

But Kira didn't know that Yzak was more humane than Kira had given him allowance for. Even when Kira had rightly predicted that Yzak would inform Athrun of Cagalli's past trauma, Kira didn't know that Yzak had kept the identity of the informer from Athrun.

It was simple and it was fail-proof even when Kira had assumed certain things.

Firstly, Kira had assumed that Yzak would tell Athrun not to confront Cagalli over this matter, or at least, not to let her send a letter back to Kira.

Secondly, Kira had also assumed that Athrun would ignore all of that and still let Cagalli send the letter, even when Athrun knew the risks of his identity being known to Kira.

And really, everything was based the third assumption, which Kira had been relying on from the start.

He gazed at Meyrin, her concerned face mirroring his own worrieds.

His basic assumption had turned out to be a fact.

Even after all this time, Athrun still loved or at least, had feelings for Cagalli.

* * *

When Athrun returned, he found Cagalli painting in the stone tower.

She was humming to herself, muttering and murmuring about this and that, canvas pinned up on the walls, and the window towards her right. Her head was turned in the direction of the sea and sky beyond the window.

As he watched her quietly, he took a look at her canvas. She'd discarded the easel somewhere on the ground, spread spare cloth all over the floor, and was using a scrubbing brush as a paintbrush and a bucket of watery paint rather than a palette.

But Cagalli noticed him entering, and turned around, her face lighting up. Behind her, the canvas was a cerulean world, the texture like waves crashing upon paper, dots of gold sprayed everywhere by her arm flicking and throwing paint from a distance. She'd somehow mixed the water at different points and formed variations of aquamarine that rushed as waves within the picture. It wasn't complete, but Athrun could see its inherent beauty.

Standing those metres away, Athrun felt his pulse quicken as she smiled at him, her hair swirling golden and tendrils around her face, short now, as he'd remembered. Before he'd left, he'd given a photograph to Epstein, telling him that Cagalli was to have her hair trimmed. Epstein had taken the photograph, wisely keeping his comments to himself on why his master even had that photograph, and had probably set to work soon enough.

The oversized painting framed how delicate her bones were and her eyes looked an even purer shade of gold in the light that whispered its notes through the window. But there was stubbornness in her posture, the way her frame was held high and her arms bare and her shoes somewhere on the floor. were

He felt his breath catch as he attempted a greeting. "Hello."

"I didn't expect you to be back this soon." She said joyfully, pattering towards her. In only a loose singlet and shorts, he thought of the girl who'd shot in the air and ended up tending his wound.

He stepped towards her, but not before taking off his shoes and socks, tossing them to where her slippers were. With amusement, Cagalli watched as he carefully treaded his way on the rags she'd laid to protect the floor.

"This isn't half-bad at all," He said mildly, unaffectedly even. He began turning back to her after he observed her new painting. But his smile gave him away.

"That's good," She said in the same posh, unimpressed tone he used, then chuckled, her voice building into peals of laugher. Athrun grinned, moving near her and taking her face into her hands.

"You told me you'd be back soon," Cagalli said eagerly now, "I didn't know it be this soon."

He smiled. "I suppose I should have made you waited. Maybe you'd be gladder to see me back."

She snorted, taking her hands away from her face and sliding those to her waist. "I believe you."

"Come with me," Athrun said intently. "I brought you something."

When they entered her room, she saw that he'd already laid it out on her bed. The twins had also wheeled tea in and set in on the table, and Cagalli could see a strawberry shortcake and tea waiting there. The air was perfumed with those glorious scents, but Athrun's gift caught her eye more. She ran towards the bed, and she picked up the gift, flipping through it with a growing joy on her face.

"Thank you." She said softly, looking at him as he moved towards her. A small book was in her hands now, and she opened it up slowly, smiling uncontrollably at the scribbling and drawings in it. "You kept this journal with Kira when you were children?"

"Yes." He admitted. "But you must try not to laugh at what we planned together and wrote down in this book."

She flipped through, looking at the childish crayon scribbling and the little secrets they'd penned down. There were leaves they'd pressed in the book, a ribbon from a girl Kira had been too shy to talk to, and all those little things that made a childhood that her twin and Athrun had been through for a few brief years. There were even sketches of a bird that they'd watched with binoculars, laying its eggs after building its nest, and to her delight, she saw it resembled Tori.

She looked at him again, her eyes shining softly. "Thank you."

The dress he'd laid upon her bed was one that she recognised, and her breath catching, she picked it up with a hand. "I thought I'd ruined this."

"Only a ripped hem." Athrun told her, smoothing the cobalt green gift out. "Nothing Laplacia couldn't fix. Wear it for me, will you?"

"Alright," She agreed readily. He smiled, moving to the wardrobe and opening it to take some slips out that she'd wear with the dress.

Cagalli gazed at the bright colours in the wardrobe intently, setting everything down on the bed again and coming behind him. As his fingers shifted through the dresses, she caught sight of something golden, and memories tugged at her mind.

As she tried to look away, she caught sight of her reflection and she saw the hair that Athrun had asked her to cut. Not knowing what to make of everything, Cagalli tried to quell the fear and insecurity rising in her. But she only succeeded somewhat.

"Athrun." Cagalli said numbly. "That's a dress Lyra wore before, isn't it?"

He turned around reluctantly, although he admitted readily to it. "Yes. And that necklace too." He took her in his arms, not caring about what he had been trying to do before that. "I'm sorry."

She buried her face in his chest, the hurt returning to her but the weakness of being near him hitting her at full force now. With a half-hearted effort, she tried to extricate herself, but her efforts went nowhere.

Cagalli looked up at him miserably. "I couldn't tell you how afraid I was, or how miserable I felt when you told me about Lyra each time. Even now, I'm still scared."

"Don't be," Athrun said quietly. "I would never try to hurt you that way. You're not Lyra, Cagalli. It was wrong for me to think of her as you- or try to substitute you with her. You're not the same person as her, and I shouldn't have ever hurt either of you like that."

It was painful, Cagalli thought, this proximity that he could numb her pride with and convince her to trust him. She shouldn't have; she should have pushed him away and told him to leave, but his warmth and the slight tremor she'd heard in his apology made it all impossible.

"I have no excuse for that." Athrun told her hesitantly. "But please forgive me."

She faltered, and then nodded slowly, biting her lips. He looked at her sombrely, and then said quietly, "I shouldn't have hurt you that way. I didn't mean to but it was inevitable and I still shouldn't have allowed it."

"No matter." Cagalli told him, her voice growing firm. "That's all in the past now."

Quietly, she added, "I'll wear this dress for you."

He watched in silence as she stepped away, moving to the bed and turning towards the wall, pulling off her singlet.

In those still moments as Athrun observed her back, she began pulling the dress over her head, adjusting it as she undid her shorts, then shook the skirt out as she stepped out of the shorts.

In the cobalt dress, he could remember the way she'd looked at every function he'd observed her at a distance from. As Alex Dino, she had been a kind of vision to him. But now, she returned into his arms, taking his hands in hers. Her smile was shy, but he felt gratitude at her sincerity and how honest she'd been with him. He'd been surprised to find her so accepting of his mistakes, and he'd been a bit wary of approaching those and telling her, but now, Athrun felt his burden lighten.

"We better have this tea before it gets cold," He muttered, leading her to the table and having her sit down. He looked at her, smiling hesitantly. "And maybe to celebrate-," His eyes travelled to the newly-repaired gift.

"I was upset when I tore this," Cagalli revealed wistfully, looking down at the impeccably mended hem. She reached over, pouring tea for herself and him. "I didn't know why I felt so miserable over it, but I suppose it was because I have this awful habit of getting something and destroying it just so soon after I get it."

He smiled tensely, thinking of the pen that he'd gone through great pains to get her to carry. Without knowing his thoughts, Cagalli began to speak, trying to break the thick silence in the air.

"It was a pen from Shiho Hahnenfuss and Yzak," Cagalli told him unsuspectingly, expecting him to be surprised.

He feigned it and not detecting anything, Cagalli chuckled. "I carried it everywhere, as she'd advised, because it was a lovely gift from her. But less than a month later, I stepped on it by accident and it cracked. I had to throw it away- it broke my heart."

"It was probably a bad quality pen." He assured her, allowing himself a small smile. He cut a bit of his slice of cake to maintain some normality. "And besides, if it can't stand an accident-prone owner, it probably deserved to be sent off in the next world."

She laughed, "Yes, I am rather clumsy, I think. Or accident-prone. Still, I'm a very lucky person." She lifted her fork into the air, showing him a strawberry she'd speared.

"Maybe." He said genially. Inside he thought, 'Yes, you certainly are."

"It's true! I've had a few mishaps waiting to happen to me all this while, but nothing ever happened- nothing that got me severely injured in an accident."

'Only because of Shinn,' Athrun thought to himself.

"Once," She rattled on, "I sent my car for its annual servicing. Apparently, the lock jammed and I fell asleep in the car."

'That's dangerous you know,' Athrun said calmly.

"I'll say! But fortunately, Shinn Asuka called my office that day, asking to speak to me. I had no idea why he called or why he chose such an early time to call, but still-," Cagalli shrugged, eating a little of her cake. "I suppose he just wanted to talk. So Aaron was forced to check out where I was. I was sleeping in the car, in the carpark, and Aaron managed to smash the windows open with a fire-extinguished he broke some other glass to get to."

He looked at her, remarking, "That's fortunate."

"And then there was this time I was almost pick pocketed when I decided to walk out on the streets to do a little shopping alone- incognito of course. Just last year, actually." Cagalli laughed. She set down her cup, looking at him. "I was carrying lots of groceries, and I had my shades on and everything and some dowdy coat. I suppose the pickpocket must have thought I was a rich house-wife or something without realizing that house-wives don't do their own shopping- their maids do it for them."

"And then?" Athrun asked, knowing exactly what had happened next. He drank his tea, observing her over the rim of his cup.

"I was trailed down an alley, and suddenly, the fellow took out a knife and charged towards me. I was so stunned I couldn't react, but then Shinn Asuka appeared again," Cagalli told him excitedly. "Kicked the guy off although the fellow made a run for it."

"Why was he there?" Athrun said inquisitively, although he knew how Shinn had even been there. After all, Athrun had orchestrated everything.

She hesitated, looking at him. "I know what you're thinking. But we actually had a good talk and we sorted things out a little. Eventually, I agreed to let him be my bodyguard. He was in that post for about a year, while in Orb."

"Visiting Lunamaria, I suppose." Athrun told her glibly. Shinn had told him that when Athrun had asked Shinn to watch out for Cagalli.

Shinn had convinced Cagalli to hire him as her bodyguard. Naturally, Athrun had been pleasantly astonished to find Shinn so proactive about repaying his favour to Athrun.

"To get you off my back." Shinn had muttered. "And also because it's convenient for me to stay in Orb. Luna's there- training."

But now, Cagalli shook her head, smiling a bit awkwardly. "That's what he told me at first, when he asked if I needed a bodyguard. He wanted a job in Orb, he said, so he could be with Lunamaria Hawke more often. So I agreed, because-," She colored slightly. "I've always felt a bit indebted to him."

"I understand that." Athrun said tentatively, "But-?"

"But Lunamaria wasn't even in Orb at that time when he asked to be my bodyguard." Cagalli finished. She looked at him, a strange flush rising under her cheeks.

Athrun was shocked. He ignored the second slice of cake she was transporting to his plate. "What?"

Her voice was blithe because she did not suspect anything. "I first met him during a surprise party some time near my twenty-third birthday. I never got to speak to him, but then he called three weeks later. That was when he'd kinda prevented a mishap from happening."

She shrugged, not realizing the real significance of it. Certainly, Cagalli was oblivious to Athrun's frozen state and how he was ignoring the tea. "So I invited him over to my house a few days after that, wanting to set the record straight once and for all. We spoke about the past, and he was still very bitter about it but-," She smiled warmly, looking down at her hands. "It became better from there on. We ended up- well, hitting it off."

Athrun found his eyes widening. Hadn't Shinn insisted that Cagalli Yula Atha was still that stubborn, annoying woman he was sure she was when Athrun had called to ask how his watching over her was going?

"And he became my bodyguard shortly after that because he asked to have a job in Orb. Without suspecting anything, I gave it to him and he'd accompany me to the office and things like that." She waved her hand carelessly in the air. "This cake's good," Cagalli added.

Athrun already knew that Shinn had been keeping tabs- he'd planned it after all, but not this.

"And he prevented a few more potential mishaps time and again-," She laughed negligently. "I told you I was accident prone."

"No," Athrun objected a little more vehemently than he should have allowed for. She looked at him in surprise, suddenly realizing how tense he was and how he was not enjoying his tea as much as he had previously done.

"Tell me how you found out that Lunamaria Hawke wasn't even in Orb."

She remained mum, colouring a little more. A pretty, rosy shade tinted her cheeks, and suddenly, Athrun felt his ire rise. Not noticing it still, Cagalli stammered, "Well, I started to get a bit edgy about-er,"

There had been something happening right under his nose, he realized. Something he hadn't noticed, much less even foreseen.

"Wait- you mean-," Athrun trailed off, grabbing her hand in his and holding up in the air towards him.

She looked at him in surprise, "Hey, what's the big d-,"

"Shinn Asuka lied to you," Athrun said intently, "And told you he wanted a job in Orb to keep close to Lunamaria Hawke. And you gave it to him because of that. And then you realize that she wasn't even around, but what made you try and check?"

At this point, his fears were confirmed. Cagalli blushed scarlet and he let go of her hand, staring at her.

"We were quite close at one point." Cagalli said reluctantly, trying to shake her hand free except that he didn't let her. "And I-,"

She looked at him nervously, afraid he would scorn her for what was possibly her imagination and tell her she needed to rein it in more. "He'd begun to be a very familiar person to me, and we were almost like brother and sister- something I never even imagined possible in the past. I was at ease for a while, but then-," She fell silent.

"Let me guess." Athrun said in a brittle voice, letting go of her hand abruptly. "He was starting to look like a puppy every time he laid eyes on you."

"No," Cagalli denied vehemently but very unconvincingly, taking her hand back and massaging it with the other. She stared at him, not understanding why the vibes he was giving off were somewhat hostile. "Shinn's a friend or a brother to me- it wasn't even vaguely possible-,"

"I think he was beginning to develop romantic feelings for you." Athrun's tone was very sharp, and he was cursing Shinn inwardly. Damn that fellow for being so sneaky and taking his chance to get closer to Cagalli. Really, Athrun thought irritatedly, he was only there because he was supposed to help Athrun prevent anyone from harming her!

"That's not really worth talking about," Cagalli muttered, and she watched Athrun's eyes flash. "It's nothing, really. Nothing to talk ab-,"

"I want you to." Athrun said firmly. "You owe me a favour for telling you about Harumi and Ko, don't you? I'm collecting it now. I want you to tell me how Shinn landed up there."

She gazed at him, a bit stunned at how aggressive Athrun was suddenly becoming. "B-But nothing ever happened and-," Cagalli drew in a breath and said something foolish, she realized immediately. "And it doesn't concern you."

Athrun shook his head, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. There was frustration in his face and he looked sad, she realized. Irritated, miserable and very upset. "I'm coming off as a big jerk, I know that, Cagalli. It's just-," He breathed in, trying to control his temper. "I just want to know."

"There wasn't really anything. Probably me being stupid, really," She admitted guiltily, although she couldn't find a way to look at Athrun in the eye. "I sent him off anyway, telling him that I didn't really need a bodyguard anyway, and that I was glad I'd made a friend like him."

"And what was his reaction?" Athrun said, stunned. He hadn't expected that of Shinn, but looking at Cagalli, Athrun knew that anything could motivate someone who had felt moved by her. As Shinn had claimed to Athrun, Cagalli had told him she didn't need a bodyguard anymore, and perhaps that was true. But Athrun was suspicious now.

Her eyes widened a little because she hadn't expected him to want to know that. "He left quite readily, saying that he was off."

Last Athrun had checked, Shinn had toured the world a bit and probably landed back in Panama to meet up with Lunamaria- his on-off girlfriend. Maybe it was really just some familiarity that was getting a bit too awkward, and Athrun being too possessive about this whole issue and Cagalli. Gritting his teeth, Athrun glared at the cup with the tea he'd drank very little of.

"Athrun," He heard her say in a small, unsure voice, "Er- Is anything the matter?"

"Well, no, nothing serious really." Athrun said sarcastically. "I'm just feeling like an ogre now. Frankly, I'm going green, but there's nothing particularly concerning about that."

She finally realized what was getting under his skin, and her jaw falling open, she stood out of her chair. In a flash, Cagalli was mving to him, suffocating him with a hug and laughing. She laughed and laughed, and he watched in astonishment as tears poured out of her eyes.

"Oh don't be silly," She chided him. "You're a grown-up, you're not supposed to behave like a kid! And besides, he was like Kira to me- a brother!"

"Yes, but-," He was feeling rather helpless.

She cut him off, looking at him. "Besides, as weird as the surroundings are, as strange as it happened, I'm here with you, aren't I?"

She pulled him into a hug again, laughing, relieved that she had understood him. But Cagalli was a little pleased that he was upset at what she'd told him, and a twinkle found its way into her eyes. "I'm not about to up and leave, Athrun."

"You better not." He muttered, hugging her back. "I'd be a wreck."

Touched although Cagalli forced herself to keep her emotions in control, she laughed and kissed his forehead.

It was good then, she decided, that she had not told Athrun of how she and Shinn had become close friends. While it had taken Cagalli quite long to notice anything, Shinn's repeated gestures of concern had eventually become quite obvious and beyond the scope of his job. If anything, Cagalli had been a bit nervous once she'd realized that he was becoming very familiar with her. If Athrun had known that Shinn had begged to stay on when she'd gently brought up the issue of how his time was better spent seeing more places of the world, Athrun may have taken it the wrong way.

Why did she care what Athrun thought anyway, Cagalli wondered, when they weren't exactly in a relationship that required fidelity or had any semblance of a normal relationship in the first place? But glancing at how relieved Athurn looked, Cagalli was glad that she'd been sensitive to him.

Unbeknownst to her, Athrun was already planning what he would be doing after this. It was time to contact Shinn again and to sound him out. If he was right, Athrun realized, Shinn had probably harbored a kind of crush on Cagalli without meaning to or without her really noticing it. But Cagalli had been wary enough to send him off when her instincts told her to.

At the same time, Athrun was aware that he was being paranoid or unreasonable. Cagalli was here and the relationship they had wasn't even that of lovers- not yet, anyway, Athrun reminded himself. He really didn't have a reason to demand Shinn tell him the truth.

But whatever the case, Athrun knew his innards had burned when he'd seen Cagalli fidget and look nervous. Shinn had done him a favour, Athrun knew. But inside, he found himself ill at ease and unhappy that Shinn had probably done more than that.

After all, Athrun had always identified with Shinn in some ways. Gazing at Cagalli, Athrun wouldn't be surprised if this was another way that Cagalli had allowed for without realizing it.

* * *

2 months. 26 days.


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD or Mean Girls. R&R please.**

Oh and special mention to **Cat with Butterflywings**- he's done a great summary! **Check out his review from the previous chapter!~**

* * *

Chapter 19

* * *

As he walked in the hallways of the Second Eye's stronghold, Athrun saluted curtly to the other Eyes' primary aides who had gathered. His footsteps echoed grimly in the passageway and he was reminded of the first time he'd been here to meet all his colleagues.

Athrun had come to the Isle to leave Plant without the obligations he was accepted to follow. The High Council had summoned him after the Second War, ordering him to report as a member in a month's time.

The footsteps he took were heavy ones.

He had tried all means possible to refuse this, but what had come was inevitable. He knew what Zaft and Plant's Supreme Council thought of him, and he had no way of speaking out to change that.

Patrick Zala's son, brilliant but vulnerable to those with persuasive powers and corrupt ideology, had defected from ZAFT twice. It was time to ensure he would never be used as a tool in another war again. What better way than to make him join the Supreme Council, where the highest authorities could keep him in control? Every decision he'd make would be scrutinised and open to criticism by the Supreme Council's members.

But Athrun had resisted this. He had fled to Orb, wanting nothing except to meet the only person he ached to see. So Athrun had caught the next shuttle out to Orb, applying for a citizenship there by forgoing his Plant citizenship, and Amagi had settled him into a job as an Orb admiral. As the days went by, it was obvious that Cagalli was unwilling to meet him.

Finally, he had left. Athrun gazed numbly at the hallway extending before him. The aides would not enter until the last Eye had. He was probably the last to arrive- all the aides, including Epstein, were lined along the hallways, each one saluting to every Eye who entered.

There had only been Plant to return to. Yet, Plant and Zaft had other plans for him. The Secret Intelligence Council, otherwise known as the Numbers, had sent their representative forward to him. Yzak Joule, on behalf of the Numbers, had offered him a new identity and a re-written history, along with the eventual freedom from his crimes of defection and outstanding obligations to Plant and Zaft. All Athrun had to do was to agree to teach Erlich Cleamont how to pilot and kill.

For Athrun, the new identify was not a bonus, it was a necessity. He had agreed, unable to return to Orb or to an empty house in Aprilius which his parents had left behind. He'd chosen a place where he'd try and hopefully, be able to forget her.

The place had been the Fifth Isle. There were others of course, but collectively, the place was known as the Isle.

At present, the Eyes sat in their numbered order within Lent's meeting room- Lent Mortimer, Barnett Romia, Alstarice Krieg, Rune Estragon, Sheba Velasco, Tom Edgeworth, Leopold Wasser, and Orlick Churchill. The first seat however, was empty- Sanders Gargery and all his aides had been dead for quite some time.

Athrun was feeling incredibly constricted between the heady perfume Sheba wore and the glower Alstarice was shooting at him.

Rather good-looking and a smooth-talker with his dark hair and mocha colouring, Alstarice had been undercover as a businessman for quite some time. He'd only returned recently to the Isles and the Eyes were thus meeting to collate their findings, as they usually did every week.

Rather like a club meeting, Athrun thought with some black humour, except that each person in this room had killed or caused deaths before.

Their primary aides sat behind each Eye, and similarly, Epstein sat behind Rune Estragon. The secondary aides were never present at meetings, but it was crowded enough.

Their aides did not speak unless they were called to present information. A strict hierarchy existed within the group of intelligencers Plant had used- after all, every one of them had been part of Zaft at one point or the other.

As the Second Eye, Lent was chairing the meeting.

"It's the usual report." Alstarice said, his brow furrowed. "Sweden's a huge mess because Orb's knocking on their doorway, and both sides are preparing for war."

"Plant?" Lent inquired.

"Preparing to step in while pretending to not have a real interest in this. They got immunity from the Galactic courts' inquiries. Figures." Tom said archly.

Lent frowned a little. "The numbers have been asking if we've made headway on the drug companies Greyfriars has been keeping contact with, and whether we know the chemical structure."

Barnett stood up, her usual girly dresses replaced by her uniform today. Looking around at the eight aides and the eight Eyes present, Athrun realised that more than half were red-coats. For him, Lent, Sheba and Leopold, they wore FAITH insignias. The elite of Zaft had been picked for the Isles.

The Numbers would be calling soon, and Athrun could feel the room become tenser.

"We already know about the chemical structure." Barnett reported. She was not really a soldier by training and the formalities of speech escaped her, as did her sloppy posture when she stood. Still, she had been roped into Zaft because they needed her to work with Tom and Leopold, weapon specialists. "Any normal amount of inhalation would be good enough to cause death- if not, serious brain damage. The powder can be reduced to a very fine state with no problem."

She turned behind. Her primary aide who was sitting behind her handed her a suitcase. As Barnett opened it, the Eyes all bent closer to have a look. The original vial they'd gotten from Mullin's suitcase was half empty because Barnett had used half to test and confirm the drug's chemical structure. Now, the Eyes could reproduce it if they were asked to.

Lent turned to Alstarice worriedly. "What about the companies making these?"

"Settled." Alstarice laughed. "The drug companies took very little persuasion once I suggested that we all benefit from kickbacks together. So currently, we're producing what you obtained from Mullin's suitcase, but the production's under me."

He grinned winsomely. "That means we're currently making a drug that is about as useful as flu-panadol for a broken leg."

"Good job." Lent said mildly. "Sending you to make a mess of the production was the right thing to do."

"Well, I'm as good as the Fifth Eye, I'll have you know that." Alstarice said with a hint of smugness.

Alstarice's lap was suddenly invaded by Boarbaki's massive head, who whined a little until Tom reached over a few laps and prodded him with a long stick. Alstarice's pleasant, slightly arrogant face turned into a distinctively irritated one as Boarbaki drooled. The scene made Athrun laugh under his breath.

"Shall I bring Boarbaki out, sir?" Lucretzia Nombre, Tom's primary aide spoke up softly. Athrun looked at her and he knew that the room had the atmosphere of death. Even Sheba looked unnerved as the beautiful, doll-like girl with bluish-black raised her eyes to regard them all, yellow like a snake's in a pale white face. Even out of her usual black maid's outfit and in her green uniform, she looked distinctively non-human.

Certainly, the other Eyes did not like to borrow her even if feminine wiles sometimes got the job done fast. Athrun had borrowed her from Tom and sent her to seduce Don Mithall to get control of his steel empire, and Lucretzia had proved why it had been equivalent to slapping a death warrant on Mithall's forehead.

Lucretzia was surely an insane person who was so unstable that it was a wonder Tom could control her. Hideki Clarriker, Sheba's primary aide, was a tall, strapping young man with hay-coloured hair and sitting next to her, ad he'd purportedly taken down twenty people alone with a chainsaw. Sheba had trained him herself, which meant he was probably able to stomach anything. Still, Hideki looked slightly nauseous with fear as he glanced at the Seventh Eye's aide.

"No, Lu," Tom chirped happily, turning behind to look at Lucretzia. He was apparently oblivious to how disturbed the other Eyes and primary aides felt. "He'll whine if he's away from me."

Lent spoke up with an ease that showed his control over his colleagues and their subordinates. Miles Summon, his primary aide, handed him a file that he flipped through. "I've like to know from the Fifth Eye about the weapon-production and the raw-material factories."

"Same," Athrun answered. "The production line has been fixed so that the firms have already gone bankrupt under a business partner of mine. I'm currently balancing the books so it's hidden, but the weapons that were ordered are certainly not going to get to Scandinavia.

"What about Greyfriars and his clowns?" Tom asked hastily.

"He's in a risky position." Athrun said, looking directly at everyone who sat before him. "The power struggles within the faction are going on, and Greyfriars is losing control of his supporters. They had a major power struggle some time before this-,"

"I heard you got shot in the shoulder?" Barnett said concernedly.

Athrun nodded. "Some of his followers thought he was moving too slowly and sacrificing too many of them. There was a shoot-out and I protected him to gain his trust."

That day, he'd returned to the Manor, sending everyone else away and not wanting Cagalli to see him in a weakened state. More than that, Athrun had been fighting the desire to shoot Greyfriars himself, but he'd protected someone he hated intensely for the Numbers' purposes. He had been ill with guilt, remorse and even self-loathing, and the fever had addled his thoughts. Cagalli however, had stubbornly refused to leave him alone and had ended up tending to his wound that night.

"But it's unlikely that they will usurp him." Athrun told them. "He is still someone they respect deeply."

"What about your position within the group?" Lent asked.

"Right now, I'm his right-hand man." Athrun said this emotionlessly.

"I heard you slit the former right-hand man's throat?" Alstarice asked diffidently. Athrun ignored the question, because he didn't want to explain anything about Lyra's death at Charles Purcell's hands.

"Greyfriars is actually feeling the pressure that some of his supporters are putting on him." Athrun announced. "They want him to deal with the problems that Sweden has forced on them for so long. But that means bringing forward the impending war between Orb and Scandinvia."

"From the looks of it," Lent muttered, "Earth Alliance is going to be supporting its territory. It probably wants to take Orb a notch down because if Orb wins this war against Earth Alliance's territory, its other territories will wonder what the hell they re doing with Earth Alliance when Orb is more powerful anyway.

Lent looked at all of them meaningfully. "Besides, Orb has been collecting Earth Alliance territories for some time, and lots of little countries want to come under Orb. I don't think the Earth Alliance wants to encourage that by letting Scandinavia lose, which it probably will if it goes to war with Orb. "

"Returning back to the Danish terrorists," Churchill said heavily, "If Greyfriars wants to bring the war forward, I don't think Rune alone can convince him not to. Right-hand man or not, Rune doesn't have much support with Greyfriars' supporters, even if he has their head honcho's stamp of approval."

"I agree," Athrun said firmly. "Their plans have always been premised on Cagalli Yula Atha's death for their cause. Frankly, I'm worried that Greyfriars will give an order for me to produce her. Either that or his supporters may start howling for him to ask me to do that. When that happens, I don't think I can fend off all of them from entering my stronghold."

"I intend to propose to the Numbers that if Greyfriars and the group reacts aggressively, we'll reveal ourselves and retaliate," Lent said, nodding at Athrun, "It's about time that we stop pretending to be rich people who got sent here along with the rest of those rotten bastards."

Athrun smiled ironically, thinking of the people at Rochesters' party.

As the protector of the Fifth Isle, Athrun had often wondered if every wound he'd sustained in these people's interest was worth it. To have people like Lady Rochestor, drug tycoons, corrupted politicians and all kinds of scum here, in a holiday resort! Having to protect them made him nauseous.

But then, he'd been dealing with it for nearly seven years now, and he'd continue to do so until Plant and Zaft discharged him of his duty. Athrun shook his head slightly, concentrating on Orlick Churchill, who was now reporting.

"Maybe we'll test it out." Churchill said. "If the Fifth Eye can try bringing her to a minor islet somewhere, we'll see how Greyfriars reacts. We can gauge what we need to do to neutralise that group down."

"Wait, wait," Alstarice said hastily, looking back at Lent. He was still unaware of many events that had occurred while he'd been away, Athrun realised. "Go back to that suggestion. If the Fifth Eye takes her away to an islet, what makes you think that she won't try to escape from there?"

Lent paused, and then, he looked at Sheba, who appeared a bit tense.

They spoke together at the same time. "She won't."

A third and fourth voice had spoken in unison with theirs- Epstein's and Toms.

Then the four of them looked at each other, pausing and realising their mistake.

Alstarice spoke for the rest of them in the room, his voice puzzled. "Are you four thinking of something that we're not following?"

Epstein kept his mouth shut because an aide did not speak when his superior spoke. He had no desire to seek death by telling the truth either- Athrun was shooting him a look that suggested that he keep his mouth shut.

"Er-," Lent began with Tom looking flustered, but Sheba was more adept at this and cut to it.

She crossed her arms. "The Orb Princess has shown herself to be mostly innocuous. Removed from Orb, she's nothing more than a simple girl who's come to rely on the Fifth Eye for survival."

"Plausible." Alstarice muttered, and his exceptionally fine hands beat a tattoo against the wood. "I guess we'll have to ask the Numbers what to do now."

Tom said nothing, although his expression was dark. Barnett was busy with Boarbaki, who had wandered to her and had as usual, laid his head in her lap and was looking at her with a look of complete adoration.

Then a phone, set in the middle of the long table, began to ring.

The aides began to file out of the room, as was the procedure.

By the third ring, all the aides had vanished, and the nine Eyes sat tensely, watching the screen that had sprung up to cater to all angles.

A council of their superiors sat before them, the screen flickering a little in horizontal stripes of light. All wore visors that shielded their faces partially, especially their eyes- this was the symbol and standard gear of Plant's Secret Intelligence Council, otherwise known as the Numbers.

Each one had numbers on their visors, and there were twelve in total. The Numbers had been selected to represent Plant, although there were less than three members of the Supreme Council in it- this council was secret even to most of the Plant Supreme Council members, including Lacus Clyne.

Athrun, with the rest, stood. They saluted in perfect unison.

"At ease." The Numbers' head said imperiously.

The Eyes took their seats, but none looked relaxed.

"Report."

Lent, the Second Eye, began to speak. His voice was authoritative and their superiors listened, nodding, one or two interrupting occasionally with questions.

Sheba was questioned on the recent developments within the Swedish Palace. She could offer nothing, because all the guards had been asked to leave with only a few remaining. The Swedish Palace had been in a state of paranoia ever since the Crown Princess' kidnapping, and the guards that remained were all hand picked. Unfortunately, Sheba had not been allowed to stay and creeping back into the palace was impossible.

Leopold and Tom faced inquiries about the new shipments that the Fifth Eye had sent to the Seventh and Eighth Isle on schedule. The refugees would be scheduled to be sent to Plant in the next three days.

"Be careful now," Superior One warned. Her voice was very worried. "We don't want the sending of the refugees to Plant to be known to anyone at all."

"No, Ma'am." Leopold and Tom stood to salute.

Eventually, Athrun was questioned about the businesses he had acquired and how much he had spent doing it. Nothing turned the world like money, he thought drolly, even for rich-to-the-ears Plant. And of course, the questions turned to the Orb Princess.

"Is she doing well?" Superior Nine asked.

Athrun nodded, "Yes. She has no way of escaping the Isle until we decide that it is time to let her return."

He did not bother to explain that she was emotionally bonded to him and was unlikely to leave after having promised she would stay by his side. Superior Seven too, was not about to offer information on that.

"Fine. Keep it that way." Superior Eleven said as the other Numbers nodded.

When the meeting was over, and the screen minimised with a 'bleep' of weariness, the Eyes sank back into their chairs, exhausted and drained. Alstarice was the first to sweep his files up, grinning to them and saying that he had to be out of the Isle in a bit.

They nodded to him, each one preparing to leave too. As they did, Leopold stretched and asked idly. "The Orb Princess is twenty-five this year, no?"

"Yes. Why?" Barnett asked, rubbing Boarbaki's head as Tom came to stand next to her. From where he was, Athrun stood slowly, avoiding anyone's eye, particularly Lent and Sheba's. Epstein was standing too, and Epstein as always, kept his mouth shut.

"Because the Orb Council of Elders were intending to see her get married by the end of this year." Leopold said offhandedly. "Someone, somewhere out there, is one lucky bastard who's going to get her and the kind of power her name commands."

"He's James Marlin," Tom said casually. "The Britannian Premier."

"Why him?" Barnett wondered.

Athrun said nothing, pretending to be busy while Sheba and Lent did the same. All three remained silent while Churchill began explaining the political issues to Barnett. She lived in her own world of atom and nuclear physics and knew little outside Plant and The Isles. But it was just as well, Athrun thought to himself. Barnett would be better off not knowing of the intrigue and political plots that went on everywhere.

As a woman, Cagalli had known that there would always be a glass ceiling. Athrun had been aware of this ever since she'd given him half of her and he'd realised that her insecurities were making her deny her femininity.

"I heard that she was going to be married to one of the fellow Nobles," Tom ventured. "But he died during the Second War."

When Cagalli had been a child, her father had pledged her to the Seiran's son, probably because he wanted to control the Seirans and to use their power for his own purposes. The Council of Elders had agreed, mostly because they cared little to discuss his daughter.

"It's the usual for females, I suppose." Churchill said gruffly. "Although it seems like a waste for someone as intelligent as her to have to marry some random male. I wonder if the Council of Elders in Orb expected her to turn out as a politician at all."

In the past, the Council of Elders had simply assumed that Lord Atha had only wanted a child for company and to continue his reign for a while more. That, and his love of spiting the seemed to explain his selection of a girl and his reluctance to trade the child in for a more ideal male heir.

They had simply assumed that nobody related to Uzumi Nara Atha would have thought of going into politics. It would have been like a mere cub trying to best its father.

And really, if Cagalli Yula Atha was unlikely to be deeply involved in politics, the Council of Elders did not care who she married per say, as long as her husband was of good breeding stock. That, after all, was the Council of Elders' duty still.

Of course, the irony was that Cagalli had proven to be as influential a politician as her father, if not, even more.

She had turned out to be worse to handle than her father- she was as stubborn as a mule, and she broke rules and traditions that had been long established by the Council of Elders. In fact, she was privy to writing her own rules, the way her father had.

"Hey, didn't the Freedom crash Orb Princess' wedding during the Second War?" Tom asked loudly.

Athrun's lips quirked, although he kept his head down.

The idea of abandoning a political marriage with the Seiran scion- shocking! Returning to claim supreme commandership after causing the Council of Elders's plans to be shelved- unheard of!

"Yeah," Orlick grunted. "Stupid fellow anyway- that Seiran fellow made some pretty bad decisions for Orb.

Clearly, the Second War had ushered in so many revelations and surfaced so many inherent traits of the Atha child that the Council of Elders's plans for her were moot. She would not be so easy to brush aside and to ignore- this child was too well-loved and respected by the people.

"Hey, Rune!" Tom called over. "Is the Orb Princess clever? I heard her father trained her to be the killer politician that she reportedly is."

Uzumi Nara Atha had been carefully grooming his heir since she was a child, unbeknownst to anyone, perhaps even Cagalli herself. She had been educated well in politics and had a firm grasp of how to control the workings of the country and the economy.

Athrun looked over, keeping his face blank. "Yes."

Tom whistled. "Some people do have it all."

With her clout and charisma, the people respected her and obeyed her. With her beauty, youth, and that strange, indefinable agelessness of her face, they actually _loved_ her. The Council of Elders could not pull her down from where she sat now- they had neither the political power or the ability to turn the people against her when the people were so deeply set in the idea of the Orb Princess being their pillar.

"Well," Barnett considered thoughtfully, her hand beneath her chin, "You tell me she's very popular with the people. So even if there were many other candidates from other Noble Houses, I have a feeling she'd still win. It's been that way for quite some time, no?"

Uzumi had bound her in a promise she could never break, sealed by his death. And if she could not abdicate, Cagalli Yula Atha would never let go of Orb's reins until the day she died.

"Maybe that's why the Elders have been pushing her to get married," Tom chirped. He shrugged, looking over at Athrun, who really did not want to be there but still wanted to listen to them talking. "Hey, Rune! Did she mention anything about getting married?"

"Yes." Athrun said, straight-faced. He was all too aware of Lent and Sheba pretending to drink coffee at the other side of the room. Their gaze was watchful and their eyes were boring at his back.

To avoid giving up Orb's power that her father had entrusted to her, Cagalli Yula Atha would have to marry. Eventually, she would have children and a new line of leaders would be ushered in.

Perhaps, the biggest blow to the Council of Elders was that the Seirans had collapsed. Now, the Orb Council of Elders had to deal with arranging potential suitors for the Orb Princess, something they found problematic with her prickly ways and stubborn character. Also, because the last Noble family in Orb with potential male suitors had been wiped out, Orb's power would have to be shared with someone outside it.

"But the Elders are quite clever." Sheba said very suddenly, walking towards them to join in the conversation that Athrun wasn't really part of. "If the Orb Princess had to marry an outsider, why not one that could benefit Orb?"

She gazed at Athrun, who held it firmly but then dropped it first.

Cagalli, aware of how the Council of Orb viewed her, aware of how influential they were, aware of how they could pull her down with the law even if the people were on her side, had agreed to their wishes.

Athrun smiled wryly, realising that Cagalli had been even more intelligent than he had given her credit for. It increased his admiration of her, but it increased his frustration as well. Quietly, Sheba left the room, Lent following her.

The other Eyes were still talking about Cagalli Yula Atha and Orb's politics, and Athrun remained silent, still flipping through his files idly.

"Well, as the Council of Elders in Orb has basically summarised," Tom concluded loudly for Barnett, "If the Orb Princess doesn't want to abdicate, she has to go forth and multiply. How bee-like."

"But what if she doesn't fancy anyone?" Barnett objected. She looked innocently at Tom, who coloured a little.

Athrun watched them all quietly.

"I didn't think of that." Tom considered.

Barnett shrugged indifferently, callous because of her ignorance and general lack of care for anything except her work and her love of chemistry. "Neither did I."

"Well, who's going to care about what the Orb Princess thinks?" Leopold concluded impatiently.

* * *

The phone rang. Once, twice, a third time.

In his study room, Athrun breathed in deeply, feeling a little worse for wear. Perhaps he had been doing too much these days. Or perhaps it was the thought of those years slipping by without him being able to be with Cagalli. He'd had to entrust her to Shinn Asuka, hoping that she'd be safe that way.

As far as Athrun could objectively judge, Cagalli had not even the slightest hint of romantic feelings for the young soldier who'd spat in her face and called her a hypocrite. Shinn had done that because of the anger he'd harboured towards her father and by extension, her. She'd probably made up with Shinn over time and they'd understood each other better, but that was where Athrun's objectivity ended.

Simply put, Athrun was suddenly aware of something he hadn't even predicted, much less considered a risk. It probably wasn't even anything, Athrun reasoned, but he felt doubt worm its way into his thoughts. Cagalli's instinct for picking up others' feelings around her was lacking, if not entirely absent, and Athrun wanted to be sure that Shinn Asuka hadn't overstepped his duty.

But to be fair, Athrun reasoned, since when had he been a perfect soldier himself? He ran a hand tiredly over his face. And even if Shinn and Cagalli had gotten close or even if they'd even started a relationship or had three children in secret, as unlikely as that really was, who was Athrun to interfere?

"You're a nut job, Athrun Zala." He muttered to himself. "She's not even yours. She's cheating on her fiancé in a way that you allowed for. She doesn't feel guilty because she doesn't love you the way she loves Marlin! And here you are, concerned about the guy you sent in over in the first place! What's it to you, you silly ass?"

But he couldn't help it. He had to know. He just wanted to know. He shook his head inwardly. He glanced down at the number he'd scribbled. Had Shinn Asuka changed his address yet again?

The phone rang again, and Athrun waited as patiently as he could.

Then suddenly, the familiar voice was saying in a muffled voice, "Hello."

"It's me." Athrun said brusquely. "How have you been?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. Athrun did not blame him. After all, the last time he'd called had been more than a year ago.

"Fine. Spit it out quickly, unless it's another one of those favours. And I don't owe you anything anymore." Shinn's voice sounded a little gruff, as it always had when he was flustered. "And by the way, it's an ungodly hour over here in Panama."

Athrun frowned a little, thinking of hats with triangular patterns for no real reason at all. "Tell me about the time you spent as her bodyguard."

There was a pause on the other end that Athrun imagined to be awkward. Then Shinn's voice rose a notch. "Look, I'm not sure why you're calling him in the middle of the night and asking for a report I gave almost a year ago. In case you haven't noticed, Mister, I don't do overtime when I'm not even working for Zaft anymore. That was a favour I owed you, and I think I've done enough."

"Just answer my question." Athrun said curtly. "You had feelings for her, didn't you?"

Again, there was silence. Athrun gritted his teeth, his fists tightening. He didn't know why he was so affected by it. But the thought of Cagalli, helpless because of her ignorance, and the way she must have relied on Shinn to protect her even if she wasn't fully conscious of it, sent shards of envy into him.

"Look," Shinn finally replied. "You're being a bit funny here. You need to be less of a hothead and think rationally."

"I don't need you to tell me that." Athrun said sharply. Funny how the roles had reversed, he thought drolly. But Shinn cut the tension by breaking into laughter suddenly.

"You know," Shinn said thoughtfully, "I think I did develop feelings for her."

Athrun rubbed his temple with his hands dully. "I should have expected it."

"Well, not really feelings," Shinn explained, "Just, you know, just the general kind of empathy you might expect after having us together in the same place for some time. I began to appreciate what she was doing and what she put herself through for Orb, and I began to admire her. Alright, maybe my feelings were going to develop into a crush- or were on the verge of, actually. But hey-,"

Athrun could almost imagine Shinn shrugging. "She's an admirable woman, you've got to give that her. I did feel protective of her, I admit. In private, she's a lot less strong than I imagined she'd be. I suppose I gave her the vibes that I was interested, which isn't that far off in a sense. It didn't help that Atha found out that Luna wasn't even in Orb but in Panama."

Athrun's tone was a little less confrontational. "So what?"

"So she kinda asked me to leave." Shinn told him. "In a very casual manner, she told me she didn't really need a bodyguard and she felt like I was wasting my youth by tagging her all over and pretending to look really threatening with shades." He laughed. "Okay, she didn't say the last bit but that's how I felt anyway, what with me hulking around her on a daily basis."

"I understand. "Athrun said guiltily, thinking of his own days as Alex Dino and the general use of shades.

"So I knew she wasn't going to have me around anymore so that's when I called you up and told you I'd done enough right? And at that time, you told me that it was good enough to, because you didn't need surveillance anymore." Shinn's voice was becoming annoyed again.

"Right." Athrun said brittly.

"Althought I think I may have really liked her if I'd stayed on." Shinn mused. "She's a better cook than she looks. And she's quite clever, despite how she looks."

Athrun permitted himself to roll his eyes because Shinn wouldn't see him. "People who look more than half-decent aren't necessarily lacking in the brains department, Shinn."

"I know," Shinn covered a yawn badly. "She's pretty, actually. I've always thought so but I always disliked her for that. I thought of her as one of those empty-headed, well-brought up girls who didn't know how to cross the road without their entourage leading her across the hand. Atha really surprised me. She's quite cool if I'm forced to say so. But she's actually kinda nervous around people."

"Nervous you say," Athrun inquired. "I'm not sure what qualifies the statement."

"It was quite obvious that I was getting familiar with her," Shinn told him straightforwardly. "I knew what she liked to eat, when she liked to eat, what weather she often found herself sleepy in, what colours she tended to be fond of. All that sort of things- it came after working with her."

Shinn paused for breath, thinking how to express himself. "When she realised that we were actually really good friends, she got a bit jumpy around me, like she wasn't willing to have me know these things about her. And at first I thought it was just me, but then I realised that she was like that with others, except a few. Like she was afraid to let people get close to her even if she got along well and people usually liked her."

Athrun kept silent, thinking how true this was. He hadn't sensed this when Cagalli had revealed a little of her past experience with Shinn as her bodyguard. Instead, he'd misinterpreted her awkwardness as a form of being emotionally affected by Shinn. But in fact, as Shinn had observed, Cagalli had been hesitant to talk about it because she was probably and instinctively aware of her insecurities.

Athrun couldn't blame her for that, because she'd suffered so much and even had her ideals betrayed for it. When she'd killed with her own hands, a little part of her had died with the person.

"Come to think of it," Shinn said distractedly, sounding like he had just gotten up from bed which was probably true, "I should have been expecting your call. When Kira Yamato calls suddenly, you can be sure Athrun Zala will too."

"What?" Athrun's voice was stunned. "What would he call you for?"

"He wanted a full blow-by-blow of my stint as Cagalli Yula Atha's bodyguard," Shinn told him a little blearily. "Not sure why he wanted it, the way you want me to tell you what was really going on then. But in his case, he wanted to know if any attempts had been made on her life while I'd worked for her."

"And what did you say?"

"I'm not an idiot," Shinn said sharply. "Of course I didn't mention anything about the car doors being fixed and the pick pocketing incident. Nor did I talk about how they tried to bug her house by staging some random burglary. Or all those minor little incidents you were part of. And certainly not the one at the construction site, whre the crane's load nearly collapsed on her. He didn't know about all that, and he probably won't ever know. He basically thought I was a cold trail."

Athrun breathed a sigh of relief.

"But Kira was very clever you know. He asked all the right questions and even whether she'd spoke about you to me during that time. It was fairly obvious he was trying to find a link to who she might have left with willingly. Like Kira said, the letters sounded as if she'd been fairly composed when she was writing. There were only a few people she was truly at ease with, as Kira claimed. I suppose he was hinting at you."

"What did you say when he asked that?" Athrun demanded.

"I told him that she seemed to have clean forgotten about you. But that was true." Shinn said straightforwardly. "Atha never even mentioned you once to me. Whenever I visited and had a look around the place, I never even found anything of yours behind."

Athrun nodded, relieved but a little stung at the same time. At this point, Athrun thought of Cagalli. If he had ever thought of Cagalli as a woman, now he realised that he had been marking her as his woman. There had always been a certain amount of possessiveness he dealt out with his things, but when it came to her, he found that he wanted to do more than possess her. He wanted her to possess him in return.

"And then Kira asked if she'd had any strange moments. I just told him the truth about that one."

"What kind of strange moments?" Athrun questioned.

Shinn paused. "Actually, I'm not sure if you'd call them strange. It's just that she never wanted to carry a gun on her. Each time I asked her to carry one for security, she'd very reluctantly agree to. Her hands would shake every time she loaded a gun, I noticed. She loaded the gun wrongly on quite a few occasions, despite her being quite familiar with the way magazines work."

"Yes, you've told me before." Athrun remembered. That had been how he knew Cagalli was likely to load the gun wrongly when he'd been on the SS Rafael that night. Also, he'd seen her trembling as she'd loaded the gun on the deck, and he'd known right away that she was doing it wrongly.

"I thought she was quite experienced with this stuff, but it turns out she was nervous around these weapons. I had to keep checking every time we made public appearances that her gun was loaded correctly. But then you know this already, don't you? I told you before when I was giving you those weekly reports."

"That's true," Athrun said, recalling the trauma Cagalli had gone through and suffered from even years after her recovery, "Was that all?"

"No," Shinn answered. "Like stranger things- like-," He fought to find the words, "The way she was always alone even when she didn't have to be. Like how she'd pretend she had something on every time someone or even some close friends asked her to hang out with them."

"Was it fear of some accident happening?" Athrun inquired.

"No, not that. It was like she was afraid of forging bonds, and I never thought she'd be that sort of person. Her confidence in the past seemed to have been hollowed by the time I met her." His voice dropped a little. "Maybe it was my fault. I guess that's when I tried to be more understanding and sympathetic and I eventually found out that she was a really good person."

Athrun closed his eyes, wondering how Shinn had matured, wondering when the boy had become this person he was speaking to. And in a far gentler tone, Athrun said, "I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep."

"Take it that you owe me one," Shinn said matter-of-factly. "And I wish both of you well, even if you're not likely to pass that message on to her from me."

Athrun chuckled a little, then smiled wanly, cutting the line.

* * *

When he arrived back in the Manor, Athrun headed for the hall where Ko was training. It was not really a hall, he thought abstractly, more of an empty space for at least ten to spar comfortably.

He saw two figures in the distance, charging at each other, their wooden weapons with rounded blade-ends coming at each other. Cagalli and Ko, dressed in simple shifts, were leaping towards each other, and Athrun leaned back into the pillar, watching.

The smaller figure was more agile and well-trained, that was obvious. Ko was very good at deflection, bouncing off his intended track each time Cagalli tried to intercept him.

But Cagalli had the advantage of determination and stamina that Ko had not built up to yet. She dove at him each time he lunged aside, and then, their weapons clashed and his flew into the air and he yelped, a puppy's voice.

Immediately, she flung aside her own sword and pulled him into her arms, kneeling and searching his face anxiously. "Did I do anything?"

Their weapons rolled away, hollow and wooden.

"No," He assured her quickly. "Nothing at all. I was just surprised."

His face broke into a cherubic grin and with relief, she ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead in a flurry of affection. Ko hugged her back trustingly and she giggled, squeezing him like a teddy-bear while he squealed and laughed.

Athrun watched from afar. Cagalli was holding the boy, crouching and gazing up at him, and Athrun thought that her posture was both protective and loving. He felt something stir then tighten in him, and he knew that if Cagalli didn't love James Marlin, she would still find it in her to love a child that was born for power's sake.

"I was afraid I'd hurt you." Cagalli said to Ko, tugging his cheek a little.

"I was the one who asked you to spar with me." He said calmly, in his sweet, matter-of-factly voice. "My mother says I must practise with people who are better than I am so I can improve."

"Quite right." Athrun said, finally approaching them. They stared at him, Cagalli still kneeling, her hands around Ko's shoulders, and Ko standing proudly with whatever height he had at that age.

Athrun looked down at them, smiling. "Pepita's waiting for you to bring her for her walk."

Eagerly, the boy brightened up, picking up the weapon, putting it away in a small cupboard somewhere. He rushed off to find his canine friend.

But Cagalli watched, then slowly, got to her feet, staring at Athrun.

"How was your day?" She asked curiously. He'd been gone since yesterday's tea, not returning back for dinner. And now it was late afternoon.

"Fine."

"I see."

"And yours?"

"Fine."

"Was work-," She paused awkwardly. "Tough today?"

They were looking at each other. He did not have the heart or ability to tell her that today, he had seen his father in himself again. The willingness to sacrifice others for his own ends were present even in how Epstein lived and breathed.

No." He brushed aside her concern. "It was fine."

And even until today, Athrun did not really hate his father as much as wonder if he'd misunderstood Patrick Zala. In his mind, Athrun did not know of what was good or evil. His father had chosen genocide because his father had seen it as the best way to solve problems.

He gazed at Cagalli and thought of the portrait of his father in the basement of his study. His father had wanted Athrun to do so much for him, but Athrun had never even fulfilled anything once.

Cagalli looked at him innocently and he felt himself tense up. What would Athrun do? What could he do, if he had a choice at all?

If he acted on the instincts of self-preservation, there were two choices. He could either dispose of her, or keep her with him for eternity. But he was not sure he could manage either. And really, that was the problem. Cagalli would destroy him, no matter what.

Now, Athrun took her hand and wordlessly, led her where Ko had gone.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Cagalli asked hesitantly.

"For a walk with Ko and Pepita." Athrun answered. He looked at her, quickening his pace a little. "Around the Cliffside. That's where flowers bloom well. It's around the coastline and we'll get some fresh air and sea breeze."

She drew in a breath, realising that he was bringing her out of the Isle where she'd be able to see the sea. While Cagalli was not sure if it would help her identify the place, she was quite sure that nothing mattered where escape was concerned. She was far too intent on staying to be with Athrun; to solve the puzzle with his help and to crack the code of what made him the person he was.

Presently, Ko rushed back to them, Pepita barking around his heels. He had changed out from his training clothes and looked like a young boy again, in a simple shirt and three-quarter pants. His round eyes moved like fish in the pond of his face, darting everywhere as he beamed at them.

"Lead the way, Ko." Athrun said indulgently, stroking the boy's hair. Cagalli on his arm, he smiled at her, and joyfully, she leaned her head on his shoulder, moving forward with them.

The child took Athrun's hand, and the three of them, linked by their hands like ducks in a row, moved into a corridor and then turned a few corners. As they moved down the staircase that Cagalli did not seem to find familiar at all, she felt her heart beating fast.

It was a bit dark, and she shivered at the mustiness of the air and the steps that came below them. But Athrun's hand was guiding hers, and his with Ko's. Pepita, drawn to the nearly imperceptible light at the end of some tunnel, barked madly, running ahead of them.

"Here." She heard Ko say, and they emerged into the light, their shoes sinking into soft sand and salt whipping in the wind. Pepita was racing around in circles, and Ko whooped and threw his hands into the air, waving them to whoever cared to hear.

So they walked, leaving footprints behind them, four sets, with one set as two pairs of paws, frenzied in circles. The other three were steady tracks, although two were some distance behind the canine's and the child's.

Cagalli watched Ko racing with the puppy and said wistfully to Athrun, "He's a lovely child."

"Isn't he?" Athrun agreed gently. "Full of life and hope. Very different from his mother, I can't help but think. And he wants to protect her."

Ko was already in the distance, playing at the shoreline, running and collecting shells. She'd done that once, a very long time ago, and like Ko, she'd been carefree and without knowledge of true pain and misery.

"Harumi looks like a very strict person." Cagalli commented. "Although I could tell that she's considerably less severe with him."

"Parents are like that." He said indulgently. "Either too strict with their children, or too indulgent with them."

She chuckled. "I think my father alternated between both extremes."

Athrun's silence made her look at him. He was staring at the sea, deep in thought. Their hair blew in the strong winds, and she thought she saw turmoil in his eyes. The way he pursed his lips made her knew Athrun was troubled, and she wondered what she could do to take some of his burden onto her, whatever it was.

So Cagalli slipped her hand into his, not daring to look at him for approval. But his fingers tightened around hers, clasping her hand in his, and she knew he smiled as they walked, side by side.

* * *

Sheba was sitting on a couch in Lent's house, sipping at a glass. She took a long, leisurely sip, remarking, "Strange year, this one. Only the layers of aftertaste are distinct."

"Funny you should say that," Lent mused, "I bottled this in the year Rune came to the Isle."

"Really?" She looked at the wine in her glass, sipping a little more. "Curious."

"I started winemaking when I first arrived here with Sanders." Lent said. He adjusted his glasses a little. "It's my way of commemorating how we were all asked to come here."

She smiled a little, raising her glass, her expression wry. "Cheers to that."

"I was supposed to be Sanders' aide. But the Numbers decided to put in more people and to arrange another hierarchy within the Isles." Lent recalled, smiling sadly. "And that's how we ended up with Nine Eyes."

"Only because the volume of refugees coming in where far too many and far too frequent." Sheba said.

She set down the glass, pulling her hair out of its chignon and relaxing by sitting back. Her eyes regarded him dully. "I wonder how those who made it to Plant are doing."

"Number Ten told me they've been resettled," Lent informed her. "When I asked him, he said that those Coordinators are doing fine."

"I'm not sure about the Halfs here though," Sheba said slowly. "Plant's less than willing to take them in like that."

"Rune's been holding them in his mansion and then dispersing them to various of our Isles." Lent muttered. "He was ordered to make sure they got to other Isles on time for Tom and Leopold to shuttle them off to the Plants, but I know he takes them into his mansion and has their wounds tended and ensures they get a decent meal before they leave. He cares but he doesn't want anyone to think he does."

"I wouldn't blame him for being so standoffish though." Sheba said coolly. "To be frank, the Isle are a mess. When I first arrived here with you and Sanders, I was young and stupid to be excited about the new adventure and new life I'd have for a few years. You know, don't you? He and I were planning to get married after saving up."

"I understand," Lent told her morosely. "This place is really a cesspool. When we came, we were exempt from the First War precisely because it hadn't started yet. I really thought we were going to protect some really misunderstood Coordinators who were being persecuted by crazy Naturals in their countries. Turns out-" He laughed wryly.

"The first asylum-seekers are Coordinators who really deserved to die," Sheba said bitterly. "Every time I read their profiles and why they were forced to leave the Earth Alliance countries, I want to throw up. Drug-dealing, looting, corruption, white-collar crime, all of that to fund their ridiculous lives!"

"You know," Lent muttered, "If being a Coordinator is a sin, then it's ridiculous that these people are alive and we're protecting them for Plant with everything else these asylum-seekers did. In my opinion, it doesn't matter that the first asylum-seekers had their cells modified- it mattered that they were scum from the very start."

Five years before the First War, particular pockets of people all over the world were facing death threats and possibly persecution in their Earth Alliance countries.

Most, if not all of them, were Coordinators, and they were living largely and in states of unbelievable wealth. Lent reflected on this. It was true that being Coordinators made the Naturals hate them. But it was also the fact that these Coordinators were indulging in corruption-fuelled wealth that even Naturals would not accept amongst Naturals.

At that point however, these corrupted people being Coordinators had given the Naturals a reason to hate them. Because Plant hadn't wanted a Coordinator-Natural war to break out, it had arranged for an asylum for these persecuted Coordinators, despite the fact that these Coordinators had done intolerable things amongst Naturals anyway.

Lent shrugged. "I can't blame Plant for wanting to intervene though."

At that time, Plant, under Siegel Clyne, had been infinitely more peaceful. Plant had received the appeals of the persecuted Coordinators, who wanted to seek refuge in the Plants now. However, Plant hadn't been able to accept those appeals, for the Earth Alliance would have reacted adversely. Back then, Plant had also been trying to avoid a war, and mass-shipping Coordinators in Earth Alliance countries to space was just impossible.

"Besides, Plant couldn't openly offering refuge to Coordinators from Earth," Sheba reminded him. "Or _every_ other Coordinator stuck back on Earth would havewanted to get to the Plants too. Plant simply had no way of taking all the Coordinator refugees into space. No way at all."

"That's why Plant had to use this place." Lent sighed. "They knew this place was entirely sealed off. Even the Earth Alliance and Scandinavia didn't know about it, and that's when Plant arranged for the persecuted Coordinators to come here."

"I hate the thought that I'm protecting people who deserve to be shot." Sheba muttered. "I think Rune hates that too."

"I understand your loathing of those Coordinators though." Lent replied. "Remember Rochestor?"

Sheba had a look of great dislike on her face. "She's still living large, despite the fact that she gave up her identity to come her. Her wealth is so immense she can afford the payment one needs to stay here on the Isle. She was one of the first to arrive here on the Fifth Isle, when it was still under Sanders.

"That was-," He paused, "Fifteen years ago. Gosh," He ran a hand through his hair. "I've really grown old."

Sheba smiled little. "Well, so have I." Her face darkened again. "But then those rich bastards can afford protection every year, even though they could just move out, now that the world is at peace with Coordinators again. I guess they are afraid to go out to their original countries and face their crimes. They'd rather fork out exorbitant sums to stay here under Plant's protection, because they can afford it anyway."

"Well, you can't expect Plant not to collect taxes from Coordinators they give protection to," Lent reminded her. "They are considered Plant citizens- well sort of, and citizens do have to pay taxes. At least, the money taken from these rich bastards every month adds to our pay, as well as the money Zaft's giving us for our salaries."

"I'm not sure if I need that money anymore." Sheba said dourly. "Sanders and I came here for the sake of a financially stable future, but that was ruined wasn't it? Our pay-checks weren't worth anything when he died."

"I'm not sure every Eye was attracted to the Isle for a far paycheck." Lent said soberly.

As the top soldiers of Zaft, each of the Eyes had come here for various different reasons.

Sanders Gargery had agreed to this because the pay was very good, and Sheba Velasco and Lent Mortimer had agreed because they were good friends of his. The three of them had been childhood friends.

It was true that when members of the Intelligence Council had approached their ideal candidates, most would agree because the job paid well and was purportedly to further their careers in Zaft. Orlick Churchill and Alstarice Krieg certainly had.

However, not everyone had willingly come here or left Plant and Zaft with exactly clean records.

After his eye-operation, Tom Edgeworth had been unable to get along with anyone in his unit. He'd been in depression after his operation, and the Zaft uppers had probably found it a waste to sack him. They'd reported his case to the Head General, who had eventually fired him.

Or so it had seemed. Tom had no family, and nobody really cared when he left Zaft.

Barnett Romia had been brought here with the promise that she'd have Plant's support for her biochemical research. She'd readily come, because research was all that mattered to her.

Leopold Wasser had been considered with a few others as a prime candidate for a Zaft General. That is until he had killed a soldier in a fit of rage over something petty and had been sent away- fired like Tom Edgeworth.

Or at least, that was how it appeared.

Rune Estragon had been the last to arrive on the Isle. By the time he'd arrived, Lent, Sanders, Sheba, Orlick and Alstarice had already served for nine years- before the First War had even started. Barnett had been serving for three, Tom for two, and Leopold for four.

"I can understand why Rune hates this place." Sheba repeated darkly. "The Eyes are protecting, at great personal risk, a bunch of villains. The first Coordinator refugees had every reason to face justice on Earth, but now they're getting a holiday resort."

Lent nodded. "I know they pay for it with their identity, but that hasn't stopped them from still milking money from their business outside the Isle. Nor has it stopped them from throwing their massive parties that they used to enjoy through corrupt means back in the Earth Alliance countries."

"At least the Numbers thought about the people- the children especially- who are Halfs." Sheba said suddenly. "It's starting from Scandinavia. Denmark first, where the Halfs are in danger. I hope there's time to get every Half back to Plant."

"But Rune bought time for us." Lent reminded her. "By bringing the Orb Princess over here, he bought us six months to transport people out of Scandinavia."

"You know," Sheba mused. "I think I believe in divine justice. The people who really have nowhere left to go are finally getting safety back in Plant. But the original asylum-seekers are too lazy and too scared to get out of the Isle, much less Scandinavia."

She smirked. "As far as I see, the original refugees are enjoying themselves too much. I don't think we can get them out in time to Plant if they don't want to go. Even the warning of a war that could happen right here in Scandinavia has fallen on deaf ears- they just want to stay put in the Isle."

Lent grinned back at her. "Well, we try our best, and when that fails, so be it."

They clinked glasses, laughing despite themselves.

"You're right though," Sheba agreed. "Rune did by us time by bringing her over. He seems to be doing a good job of controlling her, even if his feelings could possibly get in the way."

"Actually, Tom told me Seven wanted to transfer her to Tom's Isle." Lent revealed.

"It's not like Seven to make hasty decisions," Sheba noted, drinking a little more. "I'm even surprised that Seven wanted to switch the captive to another handler. It would disorientate her and she'd want to escape all over again. But then, I heard from Tom that the Fifth Eye spoke of that in convincing Seven not to switch her to another place."

Lent's hands twisted in his lap. "He's always so hard to read. When he first came, I didn't know what to make of him. He was so quiet, so sober that I thought he was more messed up than anyone of us. He's become even more so this year, but I think we should trust Rune. He knows what he's doing. This matters more to him than anything else. He must have a reason for letting her out of his manor."

"I know." Sheba admitted. "He was cold, very aloof and alone. Of course, most of us were, especially Barnett Romia and Tom Edgeworth in the past. I think he realised he had made an impulsive decision to come here once he arrived. He was desperate to take Epstein Cleamont and Lyra Delphius away when his three-year contract ended."

"Sanders used to tell me that Estragon was the only one who could really do anything for The Isle." Lent admitted. "Maybe that's why the Numbers need him here."

They stared at the wine Lent had stored nearly seven years ago. Its taste wasn't distinctive yet, and the true nature of its taste would only be known with time. But for now, there was a lingering aftertaste that suggested what its true flavour would be.

"A few months ago- we recognised the advantaged of sending Rune instead of Tom aboard the SS Rafael." Sheba recalled. "It was strange that Rune chose not to use the original plan we all agreed on. He was already a double agent by then, and he'd agreed to help Greyfriars capture the Orb Princess. For us, he'd agreed to seize her immediately and send her back to his Isle. But he chose to create a diversion and convince her to follow him instead."

"As if convincing her would have worked!" Lent said imperiously. "He even wanted her to sign a note saying that she was safe and she'd left with consent. As if Orb would accept that and not write it off as a note forced out of her!"

"Perhaps it would," Sheba reminded him. "They have a kind of history that we weren't aware of back then, since we know little about Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha anyway. He was about ten when we first left Zaft, so I don't think he was even in there at that time. She too, was pretty much out of the limelight. She was only announced as the Atha heir when she was about fifteen or sixteen I think."

She sighed. "Well, anyway, Greyfriars was also counting on Rune Estragon to use her supposed weakness to capture her and hand her over to them. That was his agreement with Greyfriars. Rune convinced him that he'd worked as her bodyguard for a while and knew how to take her down within minimal time and effort.

"As for us," Sheba smiled ironically. "He used the same argument in that sense. He told us that he'd be able to convince her to come without having to harm her or to use force, precisely because he was quite familiar with her. Of course, we didn't know how familiar. I only found out pretty recently myself."

Lent pushed up his glasses. "Well, he still managed to get her to the Fifth Isle in the end. I wouldn't have any complaints, except that they are in danger of falling for each other again."

Sheba breathed slowly. "That is if they haven't already."

Lent massaged his neck. "She was all bloodied up when he carried her out of the Sarasponde. I was waiting back at his place and Miles Summon ad June Requiem were with me in case she had to be sedated. But she was already unconscious. It was like a Gothic movie, the blood everywhere, and with her hair all golden and her gown trailing the floor. I half-thought that he was the devil who had captured some poor seraphim. But he opened his mouth to ask for help and it was the first time I ever saw him lose control like that."

"I've never seen anything like that." Sheba marvelled. "He was a different beast altogether. Remember how he killed Greyfriar's top man to assume that position?"

"He gutted that man in a one-to-one knife fight." Lent said heavily. "And unluckily enough, that sad bastard insisted that they use knives."

"It was insane. Leopold was concerned over the whole issue. Even Leopold! And Churchill was stunned with that brutal efficiency Rune exhibited in ascending ranks. Funny thing is that Rune was entirely normal after that incident. He just went home and took a shower and got back to office work."

Sheba chewed her thumb in a strangely incongruent manner. For a woman who looked so sophisticated, this action made her look like a child.

"We are warned not to have feelings," Lent muttered. "But a man like him- he probably never had any to begin with."

"But you saw him then, why, he was pale for days while the Orb Princess was in a coma! It looked almost as if-,"

"As if he cared about her and not so much the mission." Lent completed for her. "I know. Only both of us saw what went on. He held her hand for hours, sat by her side, and never said anything when I asked if he was alright. I even assured him that she would be fine and that the combination of all our medics would be able to make her as right as rain. But he never said anything. And then when she woke up, he was fine again, and reported as normal."

Sheba crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Rune's the most secretive out of all of the Eyes. Maybe it's no wonder we talk about him like this. Strangely enough. He's not unfriendly, nothing like that. But he doesn't say much, and it's hard to get a word out of him when it's something concerning himself."

Lent shrugged. "That's Athrun Zala for you."

* * *

They began to accept their reliance on each other.

He found that he wanted to see her every day. Not merely to fulfil the demands of their bodies, but to watch her as Cagalli laughed and talked to whoever it was. He wanted to see her smile at the twins when they amused her with their antics and when they gossiped about Epstein and even the frightful Harumi.

Athrun liked to watch her paint. It was a gift she had never realised or stretched to full potential, although the flair was very clear. Cagalli didn't paint what she saw- she simply painted what she felt. When he held up the canvas to the light, he saw energy and an almost panting vitality her brush strained at.

She painted trees, the skies, the sea that she now knew the passage to, and anything that caught her fancy. The dashes of colour and blooming light of the world on her canvas made him look at her and wonder if he would ever find the paths within her mind.

Her return to Orb was no longer a vague, hanging promise. It was become an imminent departure that both of them did not mention or discuss at all. But each time they laid in the same bed, he traced his name over and over again on her.

Although she might not have realised this. Cagalli did not understand what lay before her, even though she was aware of the time when she would have to return.

By themselves, Cagalli found Athrun to be another animal altogether. He did not care to win at trumps, although he often did. When they played cards, she found little excuses to brush her hand against his, eager to distract him.

They'd laugh and joke and bet on anything they could offer, which inevitably led to rather compromising situations she still enjoyed entirely. It was impossible to refuse him. Athrun was not a man anyone could refuse- certainly not her. Athrun would never play blackjack with her but always poker.

He would, invariably, win. He never made a slip, despite all her efforts to make him. Of course, Athrun was a very patient man. He never called in the hand too early. He preferred to wait until he had won, and only then, would he look at her and smile that thrilling smile of his.

Epstein and the twins would play too, but Athrun always, always won, and while he'd grin and everyone else would sigh, Cagalli knew what he'd ask of her later.

If and when they argued, it was brimstone and fire. She found that arguing with him sometimes made her incoherent and nearly shrewish- he refuted everything she said with calm, cold logic.

They'd spend hours talking, arguing and debating over the things they felt very strongly about, until he'd been convinced by her that Plant's economic policies were only covers for their growing deficits. Similarly, she was forced to concede that Orb's democracy was really quite limited.

And really, Cagalli would think as she drifted off to sleep, his arms around her, all that didn't really matter as much as having him next to her.

No matter what they did, Cagalli found herself wanting to be by his side and to feel every thing she could possibly have of him. She wanted to know him and feel him as an extension of her. But for all their acerbic wit and intelligence, they could not speak about what mattered.

At any mention of James Marlin, Cagalli would only look at him numbly and keep silent. At any mention of his work on the Isle, Athrun would become melancholy and unwilling to respond. Each time they spoke of anything besides the periphery of what made them so close to each other, they found themselves awkward and unable to look each other in the eye.

He knew it was a matter of time before they had to broach the subject of her return. Her time on the Isle was passing very quickly, too quickly for his liking, and perhaps even hers. He sensed that part of her yearned to return, but most of her was calm and at ease with him.

The other danger was that Cagalli was coming close to discovering what he could not let her know. The Isle's location was never quite clear, but each time they walked towards the coast, enjoying the sea breeze that whipped around them, he sensed that her eyes were memorising every detail of her surroundings.

For now, Athrun hoped that she would not think of escaping.

Athrun knew this was dangerous to Plant but also to him. If Cagalli left, he would most probably become despondent in some way or another. This was the price of letting anyone come close- when the person left, Athrun would be left to pick up the pieces.

* * *

"_Always wake early. Shave immediately- men shave. A good soldier's got to look neat."_

"_Yessir." The long line of new recruits began using blades rather clumsily, some scrapping with efforts that would have produced bushels if there had been a single prick of hair on their chins. _

_A fifteen year old Athrun was amongst them. He was shivering a little- waking up at five in the morning and having to stand in line in a thin shirt and shorts always made him feel chilly, even after a gruelling workout. He looked helplessly in the mirror then at the blade- he didn't know where to shave even though he knew how to use a blade._

_The males had been separated from the females, but they would eventually join up for inspection before the day's training began. It was a kind of platoon in itself- the long line of wash basins and mirrors. There hadn't been this many before, and the sheer addition to the facilities was witnesses to the height of nationalistic sentiment. The Junius Seven Massacre had increased the demand and supply of Zafties, and Athrun Zala was here to do his bit to kill as much scum and as many mothers as he could._

_In the meantime, he wanted that promotion. He wanted that redcoat status. With that status, that elite pass, he would be trained, stretched further than the others. It wasn't that he wanted to compete- he just wanted to have access to the weapons that could determine the number he would kill. Then his father would be pleased. Then Athrun would be pleased._

"_You, Recruit Amalfi!"_

"_Yessir?"_

_In general, recruits were required to look exactly like one another. Only the uppers and maybe the redcoats got to customise their uniforms and do whatever they liked to their earlobes and scalps. For now, no recruit was to stand out._

"_Who told you that permed hair was allowed?"_

"_It's natural sir. Runs in the family."_

"_Yeah well-," The supervisor semed to remember that a couple of the recruits with hair he wanted to comment on had parents in the Supreme Council. "Always keep your hair neat. A neat soldier's a good soldier."_

"_Yessir."_

_The fifteen year old Athrun had not owned the cheek to tell his superior that Commander Rau Le Creuset had long flowing blonde hair. That hair had never seen an elastic band before. He'd never heard the superior make a single remark about Commander Le Creuset's locks._

"_One more thing, recruits." The supervisor said pompously while the recruits splashed their faces with cold water then stood up ruler-straight, freezing. "As men, we know that girls are important but not always important. Do you see what I'm saying, recruits?"_

_Nobody said anything about the strange statement. Nobody wanted to go against the supervisor, even if he was only Rau Le Creuset's dog and a mere captain. _

"_No sir, because I think most of us would get our point across clearer than that." Dearka Elsman spoke up lazily. He came from a military family, one with as many valour awards as a pigsty with diseases, Athrun had thought cynically to himself. The captain-supervisor was probably indebted to someone from the Elsman House._

_The supervisor looked flustered._

"_But if you mean to say that we can touch girls but we must be warned not to get anyone pregnant," Dearka said cheekily, "Then we've heard it all before."_

"_Goddamit son, you took the words out of my mouth! What I was trying to say here, recruits, listen up now- it's best not to have sex. Not that it's not legal or wrong once you're over thirteen- it's just safer not to have sex. If you have sex, you will get pregnant. And you will die."_

_The captain rounded everything up there and then by barking his final piece of advice as a mature, very senior Coordinator. "Now everybody line up and take some rubbers."_

_The other recruits began to snigger, until the supervisor shouted something that people normally cringed at, and everyone stiffened to attention. Some boys- men, actually, by Coordinator standards, began to whisper about which girls were easy, and some began to shuffle around, looking slightly awkward. When his turn came to stretch out his hand and grab a few packets, Athrun did it without a single comment. _

_While Dearka gleefully received more than the stipulated number from a surly looking Yzak and an awkward Nicol, Athrun did not bother feeling embarrassed at the general crassness. Nor did he comment on the inability of the supervisor to teach sexuality education._

_Instead, Athrun put those in a drawer somewhere. Meeting girls at a camp or learning about one's body functions beyond a fight wasn't the point of training. Moving up the ranks was. Making his father take notice of him was. Showing that he was worth something was. Revenge was._

_And that was precisely why Athrun could never quite shake off the guilt at having deflected from Zaft twice, or the fact that he'd actually used those packets in the end; or the fact that he could never be good enough or more acceptable to his father. Maybe it had been Patrick Zala's pain at looking at the boy who resembled Lenore so much, but Athrun knew the betrayal went far deeper than that._

_In the past, Athrun had been able to ignore all he'd failed his father for, thinking that at least he'd gained acceptance and possibly love from Cagalli for it. _

_For Athrun, it didn't matter that what Patrick Zala wanted was madness anyway. The point was that Athrun had never been able to please his father even once. He'd dismissed that nagging sadness by filling the emotional vacuum with Cagalli, even during the Second War._

_But when he'd realised that he was back in Plant and Zaft, where he'd always been, he'd been thrown into silent, fast-sinking panic. _

_This was the place he knew too much about; the place his father had wanted him to be in as an extension of himself. But Athrun had failed him so many times._

_So when Athrun received the diaries that Plant had wanted to confiscate and keep away from him, he'd poured through them. If he hadn't been able to please his father when Patrick Zala had been alive, then Athrun would at least know who the man had truly been after his death._

_Through those diaries, Athrun had realised how much his father had wanted Athrun to be a person like him. The betrayal of Athrun turning out to be remarkably like his mother over the course of the First War had disappointed Patrick immensely, since he'd already planned for Athrun to be his help if Patrick failed in the Genesis plan._

_Amongst the plans for Athrun were half-formed ideas that Athrun would take over what Patrick Zala wanted. Athrun Zala would gain political influence like his father, and this time, start a war between Orb and the Earth Alliance._

_That way, Plant would be able to tackle a weakened Earth Alliance and show the world that Coordinators and Naturals were meant to be apart. Orb would go down with the Earth Alliance._

_And that, Athrun had realised, was precisely what his father had planned for his son- a destiny of bloodshed and sacrifice for a woman who'd already died._

* * *

Having just given birth, Lacus looked pale and almost deathly. But still, she managed to sit up as Kira showed Meyrin in, and her eyes sparkled with pleasure as she beamed at Meyrin. Meyrin was holding a bunch of white roses and violets- Lacus' favourite flowers.

"I've just brought her to see the baby," Kira explained briefly, dropping a kiss on his wife's forehead. She smiled up at him, looking a bit pained. The birth had been difficult, and Kira had not made it to her side in time. But she'd seen him rush in moments after the baby had been delivered, and the look on his face had been worth the pains she'd bore for them both.

The doctors had assured her that while the birth was unexpectedly sooner, the child was healthy enough and would be fine.

While the room was bright with airy, open windows, the room was filled with aroma-therapeutic candles. Already the air was perfumed with scents that were supposed to make Lacus relax, and Lacus wondered if the flowers would lose their scents amidst all these cinnamon and vanilla candles.

"Your boy's lovely," Meyrin told her honestly. "He has your eyes."

"Thank you, Meyrin," Lacus laughed. She held Meyrin's hand in hers, and her husband's in the other.

"I'll leave you both to talk," Kira said gently, He bent down as Lacus pecked his cheek, and he smiled at her. She knew he had work to do and would return as soon as he could, but for now, Lacus wanted company. At least Meyrin was here, she thought wistfully.

The one thing Lacus was extremely glad about was that Kira had brought her home. While she had protested, wanting to stay in the hospital and adjoining nursing home to be near the baby, Kira had insisted. Besides, their house was near to the nursing home and he promised her he would be taking her there as often as she liked.

Meyrin settled into a chair, looking lovingly at Lacus. Both of them had become fast friends during the Second War, although Meyrin had never ceased to look up at the older woman as a mentor. "Are you feeling fine?"

The scents in the air wavered a little, and the sweetness was thankfully dispersed with a little wind that rushed in.

"I know I don't look like it," Lacus managed cheerfully. "But really, I am." She glanced down at herself. "I'm sure I gained weight during my pregnancy, but it was a bit difficult- the birth. Maybe that's why-."

"You look thin, actually." Meyrin noticed. Her eyes softened. "You were worried for Kira, weren't you?"

"Perhaps," Lacus said softly. She looked at Meyrin, a little worried. "Don't tell him I'm concerned, Meyrin. He'll think the baby came prematurely because of me worrying."

"Rest assured," Meyrin promised. "And probably, he understands you're concerned over him." Her expression dimmed a little. "I think he's very worried about Cagalli too."

The curtains at the windows swept a little with the wind. Lacus' expression turned lost, her eyes drifting over to the opened panes that were allowing air to rushed in.

"I know he's worried." Lacus said softly, considering all that Kira had only just told her because she'd demanded it. But she kept her knowledge of the letters from Meyrin, unsure how to explain herself to the girl. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I think Cagalli was very unhappy all these years."

"I thought so actually," Meyrin admitted. "At your wedding, she looked very sad at times. It wasn't obvious because she kept her spirits up and was very bubbly with everyone. But when you mentioned Athrun, she clammed up and there was a strange look in her face. Like she was trying to numb something."

"Yes," Lacus sighed. Of course, Kira had told her why by now, but Lacus wanted to keep it to herself. It wasn't fair to make Meyrin think that she'd contributed to that unhappiness between Athrun and Cagalli. "I suppose the last time you saw her face-to-face was during her twenty-third birthday surprise party?"

Meyrin nodded, looking at how pained Lacus looked. "She looked fine then. But Miss Cagalli is always a strong person to the world."

"Not privately though," Lacus said tenderly. "I've seen her when she was down once- aboard the Archangel during the Second War."

She shook her head a little, thinking of how Cagalli had been lost in thought even while her body had relaxed in the warm water of the hot bath. "To tell you the truth, Meyrin, I always felt miserable that I couldn't be there for her every time when she needed someone to be around her. I haven't had many true friends in my life, but she was one to me. She always tried and keep her head up in public, although she could be crying inside her."

Fitfully, Lacus' hands wandered to the flowers that Meyrin had laid next to her, and her white fingers stroked a petal distractedly.

Meyrin paused, and then said boldly, "I've seen her in tears before, Lacus. I felt awful then. I half-wished that I hadn't liked Athrun so much, because she was so obviously torn between him and Orb."

"Was that when she gave you the ring?" Lacus questioned softly.

Meyrin nodded. "When she approached me, I was stunned. I swear I never thought of getting in her way and Athrun's, no matter how much I admired him."

Lacus looked a little confused. "But didn't she ask you to take care of him?"

She laughed a little. "It was definitely more than a schoolgirl crush, but I admired Miss Cagalli too much to even think of replacing her. Of course I was so happy that she'd entrusted him to me, but then I knew in the deepest of hearts that there's no point entrusting anyone to anybody if that someone isn't already theirs."

"And it was obvious he still cared for her." Meyrin said quietly, smiling a little. "When I watched over him, and he woke up after being injured and badly wounded, he looked at me gratefully. But when he saw her sitting by him, I saw so many emotions in his face. Guilt, sadness, a kind of joy maybe, everything."

Lacus reached to Meyrin, cupping her face with her hands. "But you know Cagalli wanted the best for him and you."

Meyrin paused. "Yes, I did. Actually, I never knew he was in a relationship with her, but when I saw him look at her, I knew he'd probably thought of her while trying to escape from the Minerva. He'd wanted to find his way back to something that was worth living for."

"But that didn't happen in the end," Lacus said dejectedly. She took up the flowers again, looking at each blossom's beauty. Everything faded, Lacus thought sadly. No matter how beautiful it seemed, everything was temporal and the transience of these things always became clear.

Meyrin smiled, reaching out to hold Lacus' hands. "Lacus, you should just relax for now. Don't think about it so much- you need to recover soon and help Kira."

"Yes." Lacus agreed. She looked at Meyrin gratefully. "Thank you."

Outside the room, Kira closed the door quietly, leaving no gap at all this time. His face was troubled.

* * *

Greyfriars passed a cup to Rune Estragon, who sat in the armchair, admiring the way Greyfriars lived. Almost Spartan and very simple, Greyfriars drank no liquor, did not smoke and had a physique that reminded Athrun of a very tough, lean bullfighter.

In the house that Greyfriars lived in, Athrun was always surprised to see how simple his tastes were. Just one Isle away, Rochester's home seemed like a carnival. For that matter, the Fifth Isle's houses for the original refugees were like massive artifacts for pharaohs and royalty- even the refugees had added 'Lords' and 'Ladies' to their names. Their tastes were unbelievably expensive and exceedingly crass.

In contrast, the unnumbered Isle that Greyfriars and his faction lived on however, was a grim place. Even the finery they'd obtained and put around them was to remember their dead, loved ones.

"Why do you want to help us, when you don't even have a thing to gain from our cause succeeding?" Greyfriars' eyes were flinty, even if they were that miraculous shade of turquoise. He settled in his own seat, looking at Rune Estragon.

"That's not true." Athrun said coolly. "I earn from this."

The music that streamed from the old gramophone that was Greyriars' only indulgence spoke of a refined nature. Athrun was not fooled by it.

Greyfriars laughed. "Of course you do, Estragon. But you don't have to do all this to earn money. Granted, our production of these drugs does help our pockets, but you were already rich enough before joining us."

"You can never have enough." Athrun retorted. He closed his eyes momentarily, taking in the strains of a soprano voice wavering in an intense vibrato.

It was a German opera, and Athrun had become fluent enough over the years to understand most of it. As he to the melodrama of the character lamenting life's disappointments, Athrun realised that Greyfriars had often enjoyed evenings of tea and this old gramophone and his records.

"Why has your group been warring for so long?" Athrun enquired. He drank a little, watching Greyfriars. The man sighed, leaning back and shaking his head.

"It's difficult to resist when you're Danish," Greyfriars declared. The soprano voice was joined by a tenor and together, they lamented about lost love and Fate tearing them apart. "Scandinavia has always claimed Denmark as part of the region, even though Denmark suffers for it. We need independence, and that's why we need the world to recognised our plight."

"Nationalistic sentiments are strong ones." Athrun observed.

"Yes, as we've seen with Orb and the Earth Alliance. But nationalistic sentiments seem to do Denmark and my faction little good. Sweden-," Greyfriars' face darkened. "Sweden never lets the world come to attention for all we've been doing. Sweden controls Scandinavia, and they have never let much information leave Scandinavia about why I and my men fight so hard."

Greyfriars laughed negligently. "But that Orb Princess is certainly worth the names they call her- the Golden Princess, the Amber Lady, Haumea's Child, all of that. One measly kidnap and Orb wants to storm Scandinavia! Tell me, how is the world going to ignore what's been happening to Denmark in Scandinavia for so long?"

Athrun fought any expression. "Of all people, why did you pick her to bring here to try and use as your pawn? She has never known much of Scandinavia's mistreatment of Denmark, like the rest of the world."

"I've told you before. She's the most suitable sacrifice for our cause," Greyfriars said calmly. "The world has its attention on her at every point. The Earth Alliance thinks very, very strongly of her, and Orb too, without a doubt. If there was one person who could draw attention to Scandinavia, and by extension, Denmark, it would be her. Besides, we decided only recently, about four years ago, maybe?"

Athrun knew. That had been why he'd chosen to stay on even when his three-year contract had ended. "But we always failed to kill her."

"Yes well," Greyfriars sighed a little. "Killing her would be a pity, as you convinced me. It is true that bringing her over to Scandinavia would make a foolproof plan for the world to look into Scandinavia. Killing her in Orb and then claiming that we, the Danish terrorists did it, would be tough. Every terrorist group in the world would be trying to claim that honour, and knowing Sweden, we'd be written off yet again. As a terrorists, having no attention is as crippling as having no supporters."

"I agree." Athrun said non-committally. It was true though.

"You did well in bringing her over here, Estragon." Greyfriars said quietly. "I remember that dinner we had that night. You saw how so many of our children had died. And you convinced me that you'd bring her to Scandinavia and have her killed right here, with the world watching. You told me that you knew how to get her here without much struggle, and it was true, although you have locked her in that manor since then."

"She needed to recover at that time." Athrun claimed. "Killing her outright when she was injured and without any witness from Orb would lessen the shock impact you'd hoped to achieve."

"But the men believed in me when I promised them that our plans would start with her death. That's why I sent more than necessary to create the diversion on the SS Rafael that night. So many of my men died- they knew it was pointless fighting but still did so for Denmark's cause. The last one was killed in questioning," Greyfriars shook his head. "It's been a long time now, and I haven't been able to even lay an eye on her. When will I get to carry out my plans in full?"

"But you sent Decant Corriolis to my place to find and kill her." Athrun said with narrowed eyes. "Isn't that an attempt at the very least?"

"Yes, yes," Greyfriars shrugged. "But that's because he was insane and I didn't want to have him competing with me for supporters within our group. I knew you would kill him because you don't like having people interfere with your matters with me. But your matters with her-," He leaned forward.

Athrun watched as a small, sly smile played on Greyfriars' face. He did not like the look of it as Greyfriars spoke. "You told me you once worked as her bodyguard. Extraordinary, Estragon. But could it be that she's somehow charmed you into letting her live even when she was supposed to expire a long time ago?"

"Impossible." Athrun said coldly.

The principal violinist's solo was heart-wrenching and attention-seeking at the same time. As it cried out to the listeners, the violoncellos sang in fifths and the other viols joined in, the brass instruments resounding in the background.

"Then why don't you hand her over?"

"Because I'm extorting from her." Athrun said in the same, aloof tone. "She's desperate to live- she's willing to give up so much of her riches if I let her live for another day or two. And it's been going in my favour so far. She's nearly given away all of her fortune. I told you already- nothing matters to me except money and the payment you owe me for what I'm doing."

"Fine." Greyfriars decided. "I can wait a little longer though, although not indefinitely. Threaten her a little more and extort what you need. I'm getting impatient."

"You're willing to sacrifice even an innocent person like her." Athrun said coolly. "Remarkable."

"I decided that Denmark needed independence at all costs, even when my family died for it." Greyfriars said heavily. "Why should we suffer injustice just because we are Danish?"

The rest of the world, along with Greyfriars and his faction, believed that the conflicts within Scandinavia were solely political. Far from it, Athrun thought wryly, far from it. But of course Athrun kept his expression unreadable as he set down his cup.

Athrun shrugged impersonally. "Many of your group's women and children suffered more for the justice you want to obtain."

"That is true," Greyfriars admitted, "I blame myself for entering politics and forming the resistant group that appealed for independence from Scandinavia. If I hadn't done that, I don't think my wife and children would have been targeted and killed for it. Many of the men in the group also lost their families because they believed in independence and spoke up for it. And to think! Nobody knows."

Athrun studied Greyfriars. What had started off as an innocent appeal to stop Denmark from suffering under Scandinavian rule to the Swedish Royals had been stamped quite firmly. The old King had been quite adamant that the Denmark belonged to Scandinavia.

As Greyfriars had said, many of the Danish protestors' families had been punished for the impassioned pleas for independence, and the protestors had fled to com to the Isle. They'd regrouped here, angered and embittered, and had sworn revenge and were keener on independence, more than ever.

They'd staged attack after attack in public places within Scandinavia, but Sweden had always controlled the information leaving the region and the world heard very little about the terrorism at all.

But as an Eye, Athrun knew better.

The Danish who had escaped to the Isle twelve years ago were mostly Coordinators. Greyfriars' faction had come here to seek political asylum, whereas the earlier asylum-seekers were there because of the Coordinator discrimination. Or so, Athrun thought, that was what Greyfriars thought.

But even before Athrun had been sent here, the Numbers had seen patterns in the killings within Scandinavia.

Because of that, Plant arranged for intelligencers, the Eyes, to enter Scandinavia and to collect refugees. This wasn't the first time Plant had been doing this through Zaft- they'd already occupied remote, tiny islands before the First War to safeguard Coordinators who were being persecuted.

"I've received information that the refugees who were sent to Plant are doing well," Athrun said gingerly. "Better than if they'd stayed in Scandinavia or even on the Isle."

"That's good." Greyfriars said mildly. His expression became a little more humane. "Thank you for your kindness. If not for your contacts, I'm not sure how we would save my people and get them out of Denmark to come here, and then to Plant where they'd be safe."

The timpani sounded and the contralto voice quavered in affected passion. Together with the colortura soprano, the two voices in thirds entwined in strands of sound.

Athrun kept his expression cold. "You're paying me for it with a life."

"Is it enough that I'll capture Pietre Harraldsson for you?" Greyfrairs said lightly. "I offered you all the riches we could give, but you refused it. Instead, you want me to capture him when you decide so. What has he done to you?"

Athrun kept mum, and Greyfriars sighed. "I won't ask then. But you came here only quite recently. Since then, you've been giving me and my group help for our cause. You fund our activities, you use your contacts for our benefit, and you even captured the Orb Princess for our sake. You get what I've promised you overall, of course, but the trouble you go to doesn't add up to what you gain."

"It does." Athrun said tonelessly. The music was building and the choir was joining in as the leading voice, a bit shrill now, shot into the air. The glissando the tenor displayed was rather impressive.

"You are not Danish, and so you are not like the second kind of refugees who come here to the Isle for an asylum." Greyfriars wondered. "But you don't seem to have been a Coordinator who was chased out of any country for any crime."

"I've told you before. I'm exactly like those who first came to occupy the Isles." Athrun shook his head, maintaining the story he'd always used with Greyfriars. "I was once Rusty Amalfi back in New York, and there were death threats because my businesses were flourishing too much. The Naturals there were unhappy when they found out that I was a Coordinator. I had to come here, like the original refugees. The only thing that's different was that they came before the First War, but I came after the Second." His lip curled. "Nothing matters to me except money."

"I know," Greyfriars said, a twisted grin stretching over his face. "You're a businessman, Rune Estragon, and that's what I like about you. You don't care that there are people here who are either pitiful, wretched Danish. Nor do you care about the others, who were one-time Coordinator refugees brought here before the First War started. You don't care that the people I beg you to bring into these Isle are Danish who need shelter from Sweden's tyranny, and you don't care that the people like me are killers. You don't care that the contacts you make use of on the Isle are filthy with sins they committed outside the Isle and are still continuing to commit here."

Athrun shook his head. "You're wrong. Sometimes, I think that people like Rochester, Mullin and a whole load of others deserve to be in your position. They don't deserve to be here on the Isle, hidden away from the troubles they brought on themselves."

His expression hardened. "They deserve to be the Danish, mistreated by Sweden."

Greyfriars looked surprise for a moment, then smiled suddenly, shaking his head. He drew out a tiny portrait he wore around his neck, gazing at the faces of the people Athrun knew he'd loved. "And I wondered how I could have found someone like me even while here on the Isle."

"Someone like you?" Athrun questioned.

"Someone I thought, was also without a heart."

Athrun continued to drink. The strains of the opera swelled as the orchestra boomed in, and the soprano's voice soared over the background. Filled with passion, fury and rage, it was a lovely melody.

* * *

That evening, Athrun opened a window in the room he'd truly to begin to think of as his own. While the window had been boarded up when he'd first taken her to his room, now Athrun decided that she had already no will to escape.

She'd drawn in a breath with delight and surprise when he'd brought her here, and she'd curled up on the divan he'd arranged to overlook the window. Presently, Cagalli was looking with pleasure at the sea and trees outside. Her hair ruffled softly in the wind, and he buried his face near her shoulder, hugging her from the back as they both sat on the divan.

With Cagalli here, Athrun realised, the room felt as if someone did use and live in it. As they sat there silently, he knew Cagalli was mesmerised by the scenery beyond the window. He cradled her in his arms, his hands stroking her hair as she closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh scents of the air.

The wind swept some cold air in and she shivered but refused to let him close the window when he offered to. Along with the air came some leaves. As she picked up an orange leaf, she held it up to the moon and it gleamed enigmatically in her palm.

"Funny how time goes by," Cagalli said quietly, looking at the leaf. "And in the past, I thought every single day took forever to spend."

Athrun turned her face to his delicately, and he asked, "What do you love about Orb?"

Her eyes widened, and she recalled the first time he'd asked her that. Then, she'd told him that everything was worth loving in Orb. In the past, he'd responded by telling her that one day, her answer would be different for her own sake.

Now Cagalli understood what he meant.

"I can't answer you." She said hopelessly, and she watched his eyes grow stormy. The darkness around them swirled with the wind and Cagalli thought of how Athrun had looked when she'd seen him on the SS Rafael, his face hidden in shadows.

His expression hardened. "Then tell me if you love Marlin at all."

Cagalli's face grew tormented, and she seemed to grow cold even while he held her in his arms

"I've told you before that there are plans." She said eventually, not moving at all. "I suppose I will return in time-,"

His heart sank at the thought of seeing her marrying another man, all while he watched, unable to leave the Isle, unable to reach her ever again. "Consider this. When you were engaged to Marlin, who approved of it?"

"The Council of Elders." She said hesitantly.

"Was any document signed?" He said brusquely.

"Not yet. It will be when I return though," Cagalli explained hastily. "When I return and marry James Marlin officially." She looked at him, trying to hide her guilt.

But the mention of that name was enough to make him lose his better judgement.

He pulled her into his arms even more tightly, ignoring her tiny gasp of surprise. "Athrun-,"

He cut her off, kissing her deeply, aggressively. As she broke away, he stared at her, hurt. "Tell me that he doesn't matter."

She stared at him, afraid of telling him the truth, afraid that she would only bring them into more trouble. "Why do you want me to say that? You know we might have-" She paused, "-have developed feelings over time, but those aren't necessarily feelings that can be acted on."

"But they can be." He said tensely, knowing that he was pleading inside. Both of them knew he that he was begging- and Rune Estragon wasn't a man who begged. This person was Athrun Zala, and he had long forgotten to be Rune Estragon. "Say it, Cagalli."

She paused, but then she shook her head, trying to pull away and get up from the divan. But he didn't let her. Her voice became frantic. "Don't do this. Please don't, Athrun. Tell me your plans- tell me why you're asking for more than what we've gotten."

"When you agreed to an engagement with Marlin," Athrun said brusquely, "You, he, and the Council of Elders knew that cancelling your engagement to a Yuuna Roma Seiran was unnecessary. He was dead by then. But you never thought beyond Orb, did you? And neither did they."

He shook his head. "I was just as dead to you as Yuuna, and you never thought of checking with Plant. But that was a mistake. I wasn't dead, and we were considered engaged in Plant's eyes, thanks to Dullindal." He laughed bitterly. "In the eyes of Plant's law, you have been engaged for nearly seven years now, and officially, at that, to a man named Athrun Zala."

Her mouth fell opened, and she stiffened, trying to move away from him in her flustered state. "But you've left, and you've assumed a new identity and-,"

Athrun wondered if he had made a mistake by telling her this. Her apparent aversion to the news made him ache, but he only held her closer, gripping her wrists now, preventing her from getting away from him.

Her voice began to break. "Athrun, I don't understand! You're Rune Estragon now, and you can't possibly say we're-," She looked down, trembling.

But Athrun studied Cagalli now. She was his golden filly, struggling against him still, trying to break his grip even now, and he knew that he could not resist telling her. He had wanted to see her reaction to the information he had never told her of until now. It was worth it, he decided, showing this card to her.

Cagalli found herself unable to complete her sentence as she looked at him, her words dying away. The wind from the window was still blowing, and a leaf or two scattered in, casting shadows momentarily, then falling on the carpeted floor.

"When I returned to Orb to tell you after the Second War, you never gave me a chance to," He said simply. "You were too keen on avoiding me."

She fell silent, realising that this was true. Things had escalated fast after the Second War- the crimes the Seirans had committed and the murder of the Prime Minister. The Seirans, mad with grief for their son and their fall from power, had framed Athrun out of revenge as , whom she had spurned for fear of him rejecting her upon finding out what she was becoming.

Outside, the sounds of an elusive owl flitted through to them, and she could hear the ocean in the distance. It reminded her of where she really belonged, and Cagalli felt herself tensing.

He looked at her sadly. "Perhaps, it never crossed your mind or anyone's to check with the authorities that existed outside Orb. Maybe it never occurred to you that in Plant's eyes, within Plant laws and legislation, you are still legally bound to Athrun Zala. To you, everything existed in your world- nothing outside it mattered. But this time, it did matter."

Because Cagalli and the Council of Elders had not thought of laws outside Orb, they had merely assumed that she had long annulled any engagement that might have existed. This was partially true- but only within the borders of Orb.

The ocean beyond the window beckoned, moonlight speckled like diamonds upon it. Now, Cagalli's eyes were large in her face and she looked positively ill with worry. "This engagement that has been defunct for so long! Surely, you've been assumed to be missing or dead, and it would be void?"

"It's been nearly seven years," He murmured. "But not seven."

That a single thought he had been turning over in his mind for so long was now presenting itself on the envelope of his lips. He watched Cagalli's eyes widen.

His trump was out in the open. He had kept this knowledge aside for so long. Now, she would know a little of what he had begun to turn over in his mind since she'd arrived, turn over and play with until it had become a full plan.

He grabbed her by her wrists, ignoring her cry, pinning her to down to the divan. He could feel sweat starting to bead in his hair and his body tensing. Purposefully, he began to undo the knots of his robe.

He loosened his robe quickly, trapping her with how he placed his hands by the side of her head, lowering himself to kiss her briefly.

"I can help you escape from your fate of an arranged marriage." Athrun said in a low voice. "If you agree, I will."

Cagalli gaped. "How?"

She looked lovely, he thought dazedly, her collarbone, earlobes and wrist gleaming with the pearls he'd asked her to wear. Her eyes were soft and golden in the candlelight and her hair was not waist-long now, but just slightly above her shoulders. Just as he had remembered it, all those years ago.

"All it would take would be for Athrun Zala to reappear before he's declared legally dead." His voice was breathless now. "All he would have to do would be to prove that he is alive. That would automatically validate the engagement that still exists between you and him."

The rain was beginning to pour outside the window. His back was sprinkled with small little dots of water, and the dampness made him aware of how she was breathing and alive, his weight above hers.

To a ladybug, each rain droplet must have seemed like a hammer chiselling into the leaf it was resting on. Her heart felt just as weak, trembling and afraid of what she now knew.

His eyes were slits, glaring into hers, and she flinched, understanding finally, why he had traded information in the past for an Orb citizenship. He pulled open his robe, although he didn't bother taking it off completely, having already untied it. He began on hers. She lay there, frozen, mesmerised by the tenderness he looked at her with.

In her mind, she had been so naïve, thinking that he wanted to further his businesses, which required a citizenship. What a fool she had been! Someone like him didn't need new investments- he was already up to his neck in wealth. He had needed an opportunity to return to Orb, to prove that he was alive!

"You see what I'm going to do, don't you, Cagalli?" He said this gently, as if she were a child who didn't understand him. And this was true, she realised. She didn't quite.

He sighed a little, bringing his hands away from her robe to stroke her face momentarily. "Think about what my absence for nearly seven years would mean."

Nearly seven years ago, he had left Orb as something of a criminal with a stain on his record, thanks to her and the Seirans' doing. But an Orb citizenship would allow him the right to return to seek an audience, readdress the case, and clear his name.

And now, he would do more than that. Cagalli realised what he wanted to do now. Athrun would return to Orb, now that he had the means to, and he would thereby prove that he was alive and kicking.

All too late, Cagalli realised it. Her engagement to Marlin would be invalidated because Plant would validate an earlier one she had with Athrun Zala.

His eyes burnt into hers, his body still weighing hers down. She wanted to push him away but he had captured her already with his arms and his gaze. The open window next to them let the sounds of the night draw in, and she shivered, feeling the air lick at her skin.

"Supposing," Athrun said in a low, almost rough voice, making thrills run up her spine, "I returned to Orb with you. And supposing, just supposing, that you told the Elders of a prior engagement. To me. Even before Marlin."

Her voice was breathless and indignant at the same time. He was still gazing down at her, and she was electrified by his stare.

"How could the Council of Elders be fine with it? If I annul a political marriage on the basis that I was engaged before that without realising it, they will be made a laughing stock!" Cagalli was sputtering.

His weight was increasingly pressing hers down, and his fingers found her chin as he tilted her face up to his. The back of his hand began to stroke her cheek, and terrified, she gazed at him.

"But supposing," He whispered, "they found no valid opposition to a union that had already happened before one that they arranged. Supposing you had a child that would fulfil the clauses for you to hold onto power."

She found herself whimpering very quietly as he moved his hands nearer to her neck then chest, feeling her heart beat beneath her while he brushed his lips against her ear. He was pulling them both together once more, and she froze, unable to respond or resist.

"How could the Council find no opposition to a marriage that existed without their prior consent?" Her voice was shaking.

"Because," He said again, this time with a cunning she stared at, "You would be carrying a child which fulfilled the clauses stated. An heir who would be able to assume power and carry on the line in time to come." His voice was a sensuous thread, a suggestion that made her feel weak. "Do you think they would dare accuse you of defying the laws they had written? Suppose this found no opposition to this-"

The ambiguity of the way he had said 'this' made a thousand frissons of fear and something like lust travel through her, pooling into a strange heat within her body. When he said 'this', had he mean the hypothetical marriage with him or something else he wanted from her-

While Cagalli knew that she had no such engagement with Marlin, Athrun believed that she did. Now, Cagalli understood that in his mind, he was planning to reclaim her, now with her consent.

His mouth was on hers, and she felt that she was being absorbed, suffocating into this haze of heat and want, this pattern of needing and being needed.

For nearly seven years, he had bided his time for something she could not understand fully. He had been missing for nearly seven years. He was almost as good as dead- but he was still alive, and he had the means to reclaim so many things now.

Cagalli stared at him, not really seeing as he shifted, dropping kisses on her neck and shoulders as he loosened her robe completely now.

Dazed, she thought of the articles that Aaron Biliensky had collected. Aaron had always been fascinated by conspiracy theories- or rather, those he concocted for himself and for Cagalli's amusement. Loch Ness Monsters, dinosaurs, Santa Clause, fairies- the list went on and on, and so did the suppositions and theories.

But amongst the supposition, there was the fact that Athrun Zala's assets and inheritance had been frozen by the State for nearly seven years.

Cagalli looked at Athrun now, and she knew that he had appeared on the SS Rafael that night. He had appeared to reclaim his name, his identity, his inheritance, and her.

He was sliding off her robe completely now, and she looked up at him, her eyes frightened. The pearls she wore imitated the moon, and Cagalli felt him pillow his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat.

The brilliant moon that she was momentarily blinded rose in the sky. Like a lamp, it cast silver light onto their bodies. But for her, she thought only of the Galactic laws that Orb, the Earth Alliance, and Plant were bound by. A missing person could be legally declared dead only after seven whole years had passed. Only when a person was legally dead could all contracts, including engagements be considered void.

Cagalli knew then, without even doing the calculations in her head, that the six months she would be kept here was the remaining time that would complete seven years.

He was kissing her again, and she moaned into the kiss, feeling something in her shatter as she pushed him away at the same time. The rushing of the waves somewhere beyond them felt like the disappointment she sensed in her own body. Panting, she looked at him.

If he reappeared, their engagement would become valid in the eyes of Plant. Surely, even Orb would have to admit its validity-

"You can't reappear!" Cagalli said vehemently, her voice a cry.

If he realised that she had convinced him to trade his information by using an engagement with Marlin that had never existed, Athrun would never forgive her. He would realised that she, Cagalli Yula Atha, was a sorry, unwanted woman whom no man had ever wanted, and that he, Athrun Zala, had been tricked by her.

He stared at her, his eyes slits once more. "Orb will respect and take into account Plant's laws. If I return to Orb with you, the engagement Plant will come into effect once again. Seven years have not passed entirely since I disappeared. Nearly, but not entirely."

His hands reached for her, and she closed her eyes, moaning quietly, feeling his lips brush roughly against her neck and then breasts. She blamed him, Cagalli thought, her eyes glazing as she stared at him, then turned to gaze at the lone pearl in the sky.

He'd taught her without knowing, how to experience such pleasure. And now, she was attuned to him and her body was trembling with fear and desire. It seemed both instinctive and yet forbidden.

"Am I to watch you bring married to someone you don't love again?" Athrun said quietly. "Am I to turn the other cheek again?"

It was difficult to feel nothing when she looked at him. For in the dim, captivating lighting, Athrun's torso was like marble, save the slight rise of his chest that reminded her that he was a living, breathing man. As she shook her head, protesting a little, she was horrified to hear lust in her own voice.

If she could return to Orb, Cagalli told herself stubbornly, Athrun Zala would be a memory, nothing else. There was a future she had to return to, and she could not let herself be pulled back into the past with Athrun, no matter how much something stirred in her each time she gazed at him.

He closed his hands upon her, fondling her breasts even though she tried to shy away. Even as she sat up forcefully, trying to struggle, he slipped around her, straddling her, he lifted her face to kiss her. She saw his gaze harden, and one hand was gripping her wrist, the other moving down to slip its fingers near her thighs. He watched while she gasped in shock and with some forbidden pleasure.

But then he brought his hand away immediately, and he looked at her coldly. Cagalli began to ramble."No- impossible- that's not-,"

"Why not?" He said very dispassionately, which she suspected, had the same intensity of what he felt.

"I don't want you to come back with me to Orb." Cagalli sputtered. "You don't belong there. The engagement is a thing of the past, and I don't-,"

His eyes turned cold. "Don't lie to yourself. There was no turning back after I traded information for your kiss. Look at us now. You're lying like this with me, you with half of your body bared for my pleasure. The other half doesn't have to be bought- nothing of us has to be bought if you let us do as we deserve. Weren't you ready for this before? Aren't you ready now?"

"Not like this, when you tell me what you want to do." She argued in spasms of breath, because he was trailing his fingers near her neck and his lips were soft and suggestive near her ear. "All this- it was meant to be a one-off thing!"

He was looking at her quietly. "I've said it before. If you say it's a one-off thing, then it's obviously a one-off thing that happens quite frequently. Don't tell me you're letting me touch you for information. We've gone past that now, Cagalli."

"Don't make us fall into this trap!" She said in a rush, in a desperate attempt to keep them both sane. "It doesn't make a difference whether you reappear or not! I have to return to Orb and marry him one day!"

He drew a breath back abruptly, suddenly sober. He moved away from her, lying on his back on the divan, silent for a long time. Cagalli sat there, her back facing him. The silence made the winds seem louder.

His next words were selfish because he could not help it. "I don't want another man to have you."

"It's not for you to decide," Cagalli said wanly, despite the ache in her heart. It was still throbbing, beating with pain that echoed through her even though she was careful to hide it.

She shook her head, glad that he could not see her expression. "No matter what you say or do, I have already agreed to the eventual marriage."

"Why did you agree to marry the Prime Minister of Britannia?" He said sharply.

"What's wrong with him?" Cagalli said angrily, trying to mask her hesitation. She turned back to him, facing him as he sat up fitfully, his knees high with his legs in an angular silhouette.

"He's seven years older than you!" Athrun said aggressively, immediately regretting his weak argument.

She answered hotly. "And what's wrong with that? I like men who are at least a decade older than me, so what's the issue? He's got a bloody fortune and a fleet of bloody cars and a few horses in some stable somewhere. And he's got more influence on Eurasia than Orb will ever have. If I give him my hand, Britannia will be on Orb's side. He's got more influence than either of us can imagine."

"And you're marrying him for it?" Athrun said cruelly. "Is that what you really are?"

"What's wrong with him?" Cagalli said curtly. She turned herself fully to him, not wanting to back down and not realising that she was getting too near to him all over again. "He's a gentleman, isn't he? There's nothing really bad about him- he's smart, and he's ambitious enough to keep his influence and hone the innate talent within him. He can provide for us, though I wouldn't need his money at all, and Orb would gain from him."

"That's not enough for someone like you," Athrun interrupted. "I want to know how you feel about him. You've always evaded my question. Answer me now."

She bit her lips mutely.

"What about your feelings towards being asked to choose a husband this way?' He retorted. "Doesn't it hurt your pride that you are subjected to someone else's wishes when it is a personal matter and your own life?"

Cagalli exploded into a tirade; a flurry of anger and panic.

"At least I'll know exactly what he's expecting of me as his wife! Unlike if it was you, I'll never have to feel anything for him and I'll never have to care what he thinks! He'll never want more than to be the Orb Princess' husband- he'll never want to know what goes on in my mind, and I only need to be faithful to him; to know how to cook, clean and fuck! "

She leapt off the divan, the robe flapping like a coat, rage still on her face as he stared at her. Athrun gazed at her and saw her golden hair and eyes, the mouth that was a woman's, passionate and expressive, the delicate collarbone and small hands, the full breasts and hips that led to her soft thighs. She was built as a woman- a woman for a man, not merely a pawn for a country.

He looked at her and the way her eyes could not meet his.

In that moment, Athrun knew exactly why Cagalli had rejected him for Yuuna Roma Seiran. It wasn't a matter of love to her, and all she'd wanted was to ensure that Athrun would be happy. She'd assumed that he didn't want to be in a situation where he was despised by anyone in Orb, let alone someone who was despised and seen to be a political pawn by the rest of Orb.

The truth was that Cagalli had agreed to a political marriage because it was the best way for her to hold onto power. She would gain the Council of Elders' approval and thereby maintain her status. But the crux of all of this was that even if she was unhappy, she didn't want Athrun to be unhappy either.

"I'm sorry." She said in a low voice. "I shouldn't have said that."

He stared at Cagalli, watching the way light flickered across her arms, face and those strange, beautiful eyes that changed in the light, glowing like Baltic amber. The pearls gleamed on her, and there was coldness in those eyes.

She would do anything to hold onto that power, and she would do anything to keep her unhappiness contained within herself. She'd become numb to it over the years, Athrun realised, until he'd brought her here. And now, she was trying to prevent him from taking any unhappiness onto himself in a bid to share her burden with her.

"No." Athrun said quietly. "I'm glad you did."

Now, Athrun sat up straight on the divan, watching Cagalli. Her eyes were still not meeting his, and she was standing tensely before him.

"When you agreed to marry me before the Second War," Athrun said tensely. "Did you consider that the Orb Council of Elders was unlikely to approve of your personal decision?"

Cagalli faltered for one split second. In the past, she had never considered asking the Orb Council of Elders for approval. To Cagalli, as long as she approved of Athrun Zala,that was where it ended. It had never occurred to her that other would have to approve of him. But she had been ignorant and naïve, as Yuuna had said. And objectively, he had been right about at least that.

She frowned. "I'm not so naïve anymore."

"Then look me in the eye and say that you've moved on." He demanded.

She stared at him, faltering but still stubborn. "I don't need to answer to you."

"But you need to answer to yourself." Athrun told her firmly.

"I'm James Marlin's fiancée, and I'll return to his side even if it's the last thing I do I'll do anything to return to Orb." Cagalli's voice was brittle.

But he got up and yanked her to stand closer to him. She would not sit next to him, already wary that he could easily pin her down as he had before this. Her eyes stared at him mistrustfully.

"Do you love him?" Athrun said sharply. If she did, then nothing more had to be said. If she did, then everything would make sense- her wanting to return to Orb, her willingness to do as the Council of Elders wanted- everything.

She had told him once that this did not matter. But it mattered to him, even if it did not matter to the Orb Council of Elders, Marlin, or even Cagalli herself. And now, she found that she could not lie to Athrun.

"I don't dislike him." Cagalli admitted. "But I'm not sure that I love him."

"Then why don't you let me take you from Orb?" He said hollowly. Athrun could play the villain, he realised. It would upset the Council of Elders' plans quite thoroughly. If he took her against her will and forced her to marry him somehow, he would prevent her from entering a political marriage. But he'd be breaking her that way, and he could not even consider that.

She shook her head mutely, willing herself to be cruel to him. "This is precisely why I gave the ring to Meyrin and asked her to look after you. You shouldn't be trapped with me, Athrun, if you consider me trapped at all. You deserve to lead your own life, and being with you would be difficult for both of us."

He gazed at her, stung, but knowing that she spoke the truth.

One, Athrun Zala was the son of Patrick Zala. It hadn't occurred to her in the past, but it did so acutely now. The reason why he had chosen to assume the identity of Alex Dino was so he could be with her in Orb.

As she had said, she needed the world's approval where the political match was concerned to keep her power. Having him disapprove but everyone else approve was a more pragmatic decision than being with him. If he, Athrun Zala, reappeared, and even with her approval, revealed that they were legally still engaged, the Orb Council of Elders would never give them a day of peace.

He was, after all, the son of Patrick Zala, and a man with none too stellar a past. Defecting from Zaft twice, and leaving Orb with something of a criminal record was none too charming for the Elders's and the people's vote. And not to mention, his role on the Isle was something that she wasn't even aware of yet.

Anybody remotely related to Patrick Zala was deemed dangerous, possibly even power-hungry. Even Ezalia Joule was still suffering from the consequences of supporting a man that history had not deemed the victor after all.

Cagalli Yula Atha, would never be allowed to be with Athrun Zala. Even Plant would never allow a marriage like that, whereby Patrick Zala's son could marry the person with the most power in Orb and all its colonies. Nobody could never change the fact that he was his father's son.

Of course, if she wasn't the Princess of Orb, it might have been far simpler. But her father's death and his last wish she was to fulfil had long removed that possibility of her abdicating in favour of someone else.

But now, Cagalli pulled him up, holding him to her for a second.

"Don't think about the problems outside, Athrun." Her voice was soft and persuasive, and her lips brushed over him as she spoke. She smiled as bravely as she could. "Don't break what we have right now. Just focus on me. I'm here- I'm not going anywhere."

"Not yet." He said bitterly. He took her in his arms and ruefully, hugged her. "This is the problem I always foresaw. I warned myself not to let you even try offering as little as this bit of contact, but it was pointless. I fell into that trap myself, and nothing will be enough now, until I have everything."

She shook her head. "This is good enough." Smilingly, she blinked back her tears. "I don't know what will happen in the future, but your bringing me here gave me peace too, Athrun."

"Why?" His voice was hushed and hoarse with pain.

"Because I know that you're alive." She answered simply, then buried her face in his chest, hugging him. "When I go back to Orb, I will go back but know that you're alive."

He began to kiss her, and guiltily, she returned it, his arms tight around her, as if she was going to vanish the way he had all those years ago.

* * *

2 months. 20 days.

* * *

A/N: Hello dear readers! As you know, the reviews have been coming in quite quickly and so have the chapters. Thanks for that!

I'll be taking my exams soon, so the chapters will stop for a while. This one's to tide you guys over! In the meantime, please review- I'll be waiting eagerly! And just a little extra something from me- the aides under each Eye are named below. The primary one is named first of course. Not that they make an appearance, but I had already named them and some have been wondering about who they are.

Most of these aides will not an appearance at all. So if you want, you can read their descriptions and imagine them! : )

* * *

1. Sanders Gargery (Male- deceased) Sandy-haired, FAIH, solid-build, good with guns and a former pilot. Good at tactical planning. But apparently not good enough to stay alive.

-Hector Wolfsheim (Male-deceased)

-Nargis Williams (Male-deceased)

-Vince Shagimardanov (Male-deceased)

* * *

2. Lent Mortimer (Male) 34 yrs, redcoat, FAITH, Brown haired, spectacled, can recreate any weapon he gets his hands on. Works closely with Tom, who can deconstruct any weapon he gets his hand on- or anything at all. Recreated Cagalli's seal in his forge.

-Miles Summon(Male) 40 yrs, a surgeon by training, brown hair.

-Tequila Clarriker (Male) 18 yrs, turquoise-haired, good at disguises and forging writing, currently the 'female' the aides have to rely on if there's a male to seduce. Is male.

-Ike Housenberg (Male) 30 yrs, redcoat, blonde, tan, very physically fit.

* * *

3. Barnett Romia (Female) 23 yrs, auburn-haired, child-prodigy, specialist in explosives and biochemicals, useless in a fight but brainy enough to be an Eye even though Eyes are usually very competent physically.

-Enoch Quimbly(Male) 28 yrs, redcoat, statistician who used to work under Shiho Hahnenfuss, helps Barnett with calculations

-Mica Toulousse(Male) 28yrs, redcoat, russet-hair, freckly skin, good with physical jobs, makes sure Barnett gets her meals

-Rui Farrowlot (Male) 19 yrs, almost sickly-looking, lab assistant, makes sure Barnett's lab functions

* * *

4. Alstaric Krieg (Male) 30, dark-haired, tanned, good at business deals and very competitive, suave and smokes

-Otto Tarka(Male) 22, Handles Alstarice Krieg's acquired businesses and some of Rune Estragon's

-Uylssep Lyon (Male) 23, redcoat, short but blocky, handles the hustling when Alstarice Krieg needs it

-Jin Yenellov(Male) 28, Jet-hair, jet-eyes, of Chinese descent. Speaks many languages and acts as Alstarice's interpretor for business deals.

* * *

5. Rune Estragon(Male)

-Epstein Cleamont(Male)

-Cartesia Daemon (Female)

-Laplacia Daemon (Female)

* * *

6. Sheba Velasco (Female) 32, red-coat, FAITH, albino in appearance.

-Hideki Clarriker(Male) 23, red-coat hay-coloured hair, mute, very strong despite how he refined he looks

-Nicholas Lio(Male) 27, red-coat dark-skinned, skin-head, works in the Scandinavian palace as Pietre Harraldsson's (the Crown Prince) guard, a spy for the Eyes

-Zechariah Houfer(Male) 17, puny-looking, looks deceptively weak, works in the Scandinavian palace as a cook's boy, spy for the Eyes

* * *

7. Tom Egeworth(Male) 21, red-coat, jet-haired, blue eyes, one eye removed and replaced with a camera. Weapons specialist but prefers guns- uses a long-distance rifle. Uusually in charge of operations that require capture and stunning captives.

-Lucretzia Nombre(Female) 19, hair is blue-black, deathly-pale, eyes are yellow, almost like a goth-loli. Uses a three-pronged sword.

-Whigham Karasuma (Male) 36, tall, hair like a fuzzy chick's, doesn't speak much and very tall. Used to pilot test-Zakus. In charge of piloting refugees from the Seventh Isle to the Plants. Disguised as a butler during Rochestor's party.

-Kerring Rosenthal (Male) 29, green-haired. Used to pilot test-Zakus. Does the same job as Whigham.

* * *

8. Leopold Wasser (Male) 36, redcoat, FAITH Carroty-haired, very fit, manages some businesses Rune Estragon acquires, and works within the Earth Alliance as a businessman.

-June Requiem(female) 30, surgeon like Miles, heart-shaped face, milky brown hair, doubles as an accountant

-Ixler Ignatius(male) 26, a bit on the plump side, poses as Wassers' business partner

-Krad Lynx (male) 21, pale-blue hair, economic analyst who failed his redcoat test because of the physical component but is very happy to be here on the Isle

* * *

9. Orlick Churchill (Male) 42, redcoat, salt-and-pepper hair from stress, bulky form but still rather fit. Handles the shipment of necessities for the Isle-dwellers and has to ensure that overall, nobody breaks the rules of leaving, etc.

-Jacques McEwan (male) redcoat, 27 (I couldn't be bothered at this time!)

-Anthony Oxford (male) 25

-Ronald Dentrifort (male) 29


	21. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 20

* * *

"_I didn't think you'd be back so soon." Yzak's voice was tentative, and it_ _was incongruent with the white uniform he wore. He sat up a little straighter, wishing it had been someone else who was here instead of him._

_Athrun stared forward, although he saw little. What he registered was even less. There was nothing in his face that suggested much or any clear emotion, save his mouth. That was a thin, tightened line of pain and what Yzak Joule recognised as anger. Had Athrun Zala shown his anger outwardly, Yzak might have felt more competent to deal with it._

_Frowning, Yzak shook his head. "You know as well as I do that you've been under surveillance ever since you came back here from the battle of Messiah. You've defected one too many times, Athrun, and I can't lie and say that Plant and Zaft are thrilled over that."_

_Athrun looked at him expressionlessly. "Then fire me."_

"_You quit before we could." Yzak said pointedly. "You wrote a resignation letter before the heads could issue you a promotion letter." He shook his head. This was not what he was here to discuss. How did they end up on this track? His instructions had been clear: detain Athrun Zala, give him his instructions, and arrange for Athrun Zala to leave on the mission. But here he was, Yzak realised, trying to understand a person who seemed to have become someone else over this few months._

"_I know." Athrun replied after a pause. "But I was foolish enough to think that renouncing my Plant citizenship for an Orb one would stop that.'_

"_To be honest," Yzak told him, "It would never stop even if you'd have gotten a full Orb citizenship. In fact, the surveillance would have become even more stringent."_

_The meaning was clear. Athrun Zala had always been marked._

_Yzak thought of how he'd once seen the hope in Athrun's face, the quiet smile that had played on his comrade's lips as Athrun had watched Lacus Clyne dart into Kira Yamato's arms. Clearly, all those present at the swearing-in of the new Zaft member had felt happy for the couple. But none as much as Athrun, Yzak supposed, since Athrun had clearly been harbouring other plans of returning to Orb. As far as that had been concerned, Yzak recalled how many months had passed since Athrun Zala had left the Plants and Zaft to be an admiral in Orb._

"_But then you came back here. Why?"_

_Athrun did not know what to say. He did not know how to tell Yzak that all he had sacrificed had amounted to little. Nor did he find it in him to tell Yzak that he was aching, for that had been replaced with a dull kind of throbbing pain at the recollection of how she'd never turned to look back at him leaving._

_Instead, Athrun decided that if he had to move on, then he would uproot everything at this point now. Looking at Yzak, who'd come to see him right after Athrun had been detained quietly and almost unnoticeably at the immigration counter, Athrun wondered if anyone really understood what was happening. _

"_I haven't done anything illegal." Athrun said tiredly, holding up his hands on the table between him and Yzak._

_Yzak held up a file. "I heard from the Plant Embassy in Orb, even if the ongoing investigations are still kept from the media."_

"_I know there's still some doubt in the air and the investigations haven't ended in Orb. But detaining me like this?" Athrun's eyes narrowed. _

_Those hands were handcuffed, and there were two Zaft officers standing outside, guarding the room that Athrun had been directed to. "Even if I don't have a Plant citizenship anymore, I can still enter Aprilius as a visitor, can't I? I'm not the murderer- whatever you've been hearing from your contacts back in the Orb military or government. I'm only back to take some things and then go."_

"_What were you coming back here to take?" Yzak's voice was not sharp as Athrun had expected, but calm and almost too composed to be natural._

_Athrun was experiencing too much fatigue to evade anything. "Everything I own. Everything my parents left for me. I don't belong here. You know that."_

"_You know that the state has overruled the will your father left." Yzak said tightly. "Your inheritance no longer exists. It is the state's property because of the questionable details and the contents of the diaries and letters Patrick Zala left."_

_Athrun surprised them both by slamming his fists on the table, even though they were already bound. His voice, to his horror, was trembling with the rage that had accumulated from more than a single setback. "Plant has no right to want to make me serve it! Don't think I don't know why they want me in the Supreme Council."_

"_Look," Yzak said sharply, "You'd be an idiot if you didn't know they were doing this because they don't want you to be independent and run the risk of becoming another Patrick Zala. I know you realise this. But you have to serve Plant and Zaft- face it! You belong here!"_

_Athrun shook his head grimly. "If I refuse to serve in the Supreme Council, then it simply must find another puppet. Detaining me like this and seizing what is rightfully mine won't prevent me from taking everything and leaving to another place."_

"_I'm telling you that you have no where left to go!" Yzak's voice rose and he stood up, glaring at Athrun. "Orb doesn't want you- that's why you're back here, right? I'm not here to baby you, Athrun Zala, I'm here as the representative of the Intelligence Council! And for me to have to face a former comrade like this is something you will never understand! So listen to me, if it's the last thing you do that makes sense for yourself!'_

_Athrun narrowed his eyes. "If you're here as a representative for Plant and Zaft, it means you have a message from the Supreme Council. I don't want it."_

"_It's not a matter of choice, Zala." Yzak sounded almost bitter. "You should have learnt that by now. It's a matter of one end over another. Even if you go to another place in this world, even if you change your name a thousand times, you are still Athrun Zala. Plant will never forget that. You want normality? That's all bullshit. If you wanted normality, you wouldn't have gone back to Orb for her."_

_And studying Yzak, Athrun understood what Yzak was trying to say. While Athrun had wanted to leave the past behind, by hoping to be with someone like Cagalli Yula Atha, Athrun was giving up all hope of that. Of course, as Yzak was telling him, there had never been a hope of him leaving his father's past behind him as well._

_Athrun drew a deep breath in and tried to calm himself down. "No matter what, I want to leave the Plants. I don't want to answer to anyone except myself, and certainly not to people who are obsessed with what my father wanted and what he almost achieved through him and me. And I want to take everything with me."_

"_Not possible. "Yzak shot back. "You can't leave Plant, and you most certainly cannot take what your father left for you. Those are too dangerous for you. The contents cannot be read by you, as was agreed amongst those in the Intelligence Council. And if you do try to obtain those from the state's security trust, that will be a suicidal mission. "_

"_You think I can't guess what's in those diaries?" Athrun laughed hollowly. "I am Patrick Zala's son. I should know what plans he had for me. Dangerous contents? And what was all that about not being here to baby me, Representative Joule? Is the Intelligence Council trying to censor what Patrick Zala wanted when he fathered me?"_

"_Shut up!" Yzak, who was already on his feet, looked even morel livid. Unfazed, Athrun sat up straighter in his chair, both men staring with something akin to hated at each other. "I'm not here just as an Intelligence officer and its current representative, Athrun Zala! They didn't know you left Plant for some woman who happened to be the leader of Orb- they didn't know you weren't exactly trying to restart some war by supporting Dullindal- but I do! And that's why I'm thinking of all this even when I'm following my orders and talking to you while you are detained right now! So if you think of yourself at all, then you better listen. I'm here with a proposal that Plant and Zaft is offering you."_

_Yzak drew in a deep breath, his tirade cut short only by the sudden doubts he had in his heart. Would Athrun Zala agree to this? Was this hook that the council had placed enough to draw in a person who was so quietly stubborn and unwilling to accept simple orders? "This room is not under surveillance, nor is it bugged. I have already made sure of that. I am not speaking solely as an Intelligence officer, but as someone who can and wants to help. You want your father's things, don't you? Those, including his diaries. I can help you take those and help you leave your past behind. All you have to do is agree to the proposal I am to tell you about."_

"_Let's hear it." Athrun smiled grimly. "You want me to do something to get what my father left for me, don't you? If it involves the Supreme Council members leaving me alone, I just might consider."_

_At that point, Yzak slumped back into his seat. Neither of them spoke, although the tension was so apparent that it consumed nearly all else. _

_Yzak knew he could convince the Intelligence Council that bringing Athrun Zala to the Isle was a security nothing else could provide. Even if they gave the diaries to Athrun Zala, he would be unable to carry those out while working for Zaft. _

_Yzak would convince them of that, and in turn tell Athrun that if he wanted to forget the past and take something so important with him, he'd only have to numb himself and work for three years. Even if Erlich Hoffman was somebody that Athrun Zala would normally have been unwilling to train, Yzak knew how to convince Athrun Zala too. Pain and rejection was a very easy thing to make use of, even when it came to someone like Athrun._

_If anything, Yzak told himself firmly, he was helping Athrun to forget and to get what he needed. So when Yzak could find the courage to broach the subject he had been so unwilling to speak up about, he knew that it was in Athrun's best interests._

_At least, Yzak thought, looking at the gaunt expression and the haunted, strangely familiar sadness in Athrun's face, he hoped it was._

"_Look," Yzak said finally, "As just a former comrade and not a representative-," He paused, looking miserable suddenly, shaking his head. "I think it's better if you do as they tell you to."_

_Athrun's voice was flat. "Why?"_

"_Because it's the one ticket to what you want right now."  
_

"_And what have you imagined that to be?" Athrun's cynicism was clear in his tone._

_Yzak looked straight at him._

"_Leaving your father and her behind. And forgetting who you really are."_

* * *

The bath they'd taken together had been less awkward than the previous one they'd had when he was injured. Now, he felt a smile tug its way to his lips.

She'd crept in while he was soaking in the water, and he'd taken her into his arms when Cagalli had slipped into the water. He hadn't wanted to feel so comfortable with her, but of course Athrun had. If their time together was becoming a routine, then it was a nasty habit that he felt like encouraging.

In the water, they could lie back for hours and talk. They'd done that today.

Their conversation made something in him ache. In the scents of the perfumed water and the mist of the steam, he'd asked about her life back in Orb.

She'd been more forthcoming than the last time when he had been injured, and Cagalli had even spoken to him about Aaron Biliensky. She told him about how she trusted him enough to give him the number to her house and how to clear the security locks of the gates too.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Athrun had frowned. "Security personnel don't even know how to do that, and here you have someone who's second-in-command and-,"

She had cut him off. "Aaron would never betray me, Athrun."

"How do you know?"

"I just do." She'd replied stubbornly, and nothing he said or cautioned could convince her otherwise. She told him about all Aaron had done for her- how he'd rearranged her living room, how he had often brought his little tastes and eccentricities to the office and how he brightened even her worst days.

"The best gay, bitching friend I could ever wish for." Cagalli had told him, giggling as she'd recounted the title Aaron had conferred upon himself, along with the past stories of how it had been hate at first sight. "The best friend I could ever wish for. A godsend, really. I'd be lost without him. He taught me how to cook dishes I actually wanted to eat, and he'd dare me to do things I always chickened out on."

Her smile had dimmed a little. "He was worried when I was invited to Scandinavia- he thought I'd be asked to help to weed out Scandinavia's internal conflicts." She shrugged.

Athrun hadn't known what to say to that, and remained silent until the topics had moved on. She'd told him about the other friends at work and the friends from her convent days that she still kept in touch with. She recounted the racy stories some of them lived to tell, and she told him about what nice people they all were.

He'd smiled, seeing beyond what met the eye because of what Shinn had told him. The genuine liking of others was there, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that she had never relied on many even if many relied on her.

As he thought of what Shinn had told him, Athrun had gazed at Cagalli's silhouette. Even next to him in the water, she seemed almost fragile to the point that she could disappear if he did so much as blink. The solitariness of her form even when he put her close to him made him wonder what really went through her mind.

But today, in the bath, the recollection of how she'd tried to be indifferent to him for so long had made him realise that she didn't want to be dependent ever again. He understood that. Being dependent meant the risk of being broken and both of them were afraid of that.

Because he had been contemplating this, he offered nothing until she had turned around. Cagalli had stopped him from soaping her back and asking him hesitantly, "What about you, Athrun? What about your friends?"

And Athrun had found himself telling her about Dearka Elsman, Yzak Joule, Nicol Amalfi, Rusty Mckenzie, Miguel Aiman, and of course, Kira Yamato. She'd listened, wide-eyed and very attentively to the escapades they'd been through together, and she'd been particularly curious about Yzak. When he'd inquired, she'd told him why.

"Because he's a very important person in Plant now," Cagalli had said wholeheartedly, not understanding that Athrun of all people, would understand and agree with that.

Still, Athrun had appreciated her willingness to fill him in on all she thought he had left behind. He had watched as she'd mused to herself. "He is very well-supported by almost everyone in the Supreme Plant Council, and there is talk that he'll be Chairman after Eileen Kanaver retires, or if he chooses to run in the future."

"Yes," Athrun had agreed. "Yzak would suit a leadership position." His expression turned wry. "That is, when he can keep his temper and his foul vocabulary to himself. He's a bit of a wildcard."

She tilted her head as a question.

"He's a madman when he's angered, and he can get angered at the slightest thing." Athrun explained. "And he's less predictable than you would imagine. A bit of a crazy head."

"But that's not true anymore! He's mellowed incredibly over the years, and he's a really good person." Cagalli had protested, with that same naiveté that Athrun found both heart-wrenching and endearing. "I know you weren't exactly on friendly terms with him at times, Athrun, but you mustn't blame him. He tries very hard, you know. If he was asked to help his friend, say you, for example,-" She looked at Athrun earnestly. "I don't think anything would matter more to him than sticking to the friendships he cherished. That's the person Yzak is."

Their bath had not ended with him leaving the water first, as was their custom so far. Today, he'd waited in the bath, whispering that he wanted to stay there a little longer. Cagalli had offered to stay there with him, but he'd asked her to go ahead and had watched as she'd made her way cautiously from there.

He'd folded his arms, resting his head on them. As she'd looked at him pleadingly, he had only smiled silently, pushing her slightly and encouraging her to step out. She'd been trembling while drying herself and slipping into a bathrobe, knowing he was watching her. But he'd realised that she did not know he was admiring her. The strange combination of her insecurities but that somehow reckless energy of hers was intoxicating.

At this point, Athrun looked at how Cagalli was staring out at the sea.

As the night drew its way into the room, Athrun was aware that Cagalli was equally distracted by her unvoiced worries. The sky was changing beyond her, and the clouds swelled into a magnificent orchestra of sound and water, joining the chorus of waves that grew in frenzied rhythm and intensity.

For the past hour, she had been sitting at the window, kneeling on the couch she'd shifted to it, thinking semi-completed, wistful thoughts. Those were disconnected, frayed with her nerves and her doubts, and she could not seem to find any space in her mind to store those and make sense of them.

From the bed and through the gap of the translucent hangings, Athrun was watching her. Troubled, he closed his eyes, sinking further into the bed, wondering why the rain was building up so quickly. In this approaching October, the autumns on the Isle were rainy ones. This was no exception.

Cagalli's face was turned away and he could not see her expression except hints of her profile. But he knew too, that she was deep in thought.

It wasn't the first time that Athrun wondered what she saw beyond the window. Perhaps, she saw only the waves and the sky. Or perhaps, she saw what was beyond in her mind's eye- perhaps she was seeing Orb even when he'd effectually bound her emotionally to him by forcing her to revisit their past and to face their present in ways he hadn't even predicted for.

If he told her about Lacus' child, he thought suddenly, Cagalli would surely insist on seeing the child or finding a way to speak to Lacus next.

That was potentially more dangerous than letting her contact Kira, for Lacus was ultimately working for the Plant Supreme Council. Even if she had been asked to take a break for her pregnancy and maternity leave, Lacus still retained contacts with far too many members of that Council. The Numbers did have three Council members, but not all were from the same group. The existence of the Isle and even the Numbers and Eyes were secrets kept away from even most of the Council.

For now, Athrun decided not to raise anything that would remind her of the baby.

Kira Yamato and Lacus Clyne's house was highly guarded, and there were even bodyguards the Supreme Council had posted around to keep them safe as part of their jobs' perks. No camera had gotten even ten metres close to the baby, and even Athrun had no proof that the child had really been born. There were rumours circulating that the Yamato family had moved back to their estate, but nobody had gotten photographs of what was surely a celebrity baby.

He wondered if he ought to get Shinn to pay Kira and Lacus a visit. Obtaining a picture of the child for Cagalli would surely make her happier, and Athrun wondered what her reaction to the baby would be.

Perhaps she would gaze at her niece or nephew with the same tenderness the way she looked at Ko. And perhaps, Athrun thought with a pang of sadness, knowing that her twin's family was safe would keep her satisfied for a while more.

Cagalli suddenly turned, moving off the couch and pattering back to the warmth of the bed. Greyfriars was willing and probably already planning to have her killed in a more concrete decision than before.

Her face was still hidden by the hangings, but he could see her approaching, and Athrun wondered why his bitterness could not be ignored. As she parted the gap of the hangings a little more to give her an entrance, sliding into the bed and into his waiting arms to hug him, Athrun knew that her time was running out.

Studying Cagalli as she bent over him to kiss him, Athrun knew that if he was careful enough, Cagalli would continue trusting him.

Currently, she already did. The room was clear proof of that. She was beginning to make her presence clear in this room, as if Cagalli had instinctively understood that while they were not quite lovers, they had accepted each other.

"I like what you've done with the vases." He remarked briefly, feeling her shift against him and grin at his comment.

There were fresh flowers she'd put into the room, sitting in the once- empty vases on the table and on the dresser. Those filled the room with soft fragrances, and the colours made Athrun smile.

"The twins and Ko helped." Cagalli told him. She looked at him a little bashfully. "I asked them what would make a room look more welcoming, and Cartesia came up with the idea of flowers. She said they'd brighten up the place instantly, and I think she's right."

In her white, long-sleeved nightgown she'd worn after her bath, Cagalli looked even smaller-framed than she already was. Like a little ghost, she'd crept into his bed, sidling a little closer now.

"I thought you weren't fond of flowers," He teased her, tugging at her cheek. She grinned a little and bit his shoulder lightly and playfully.

"It's true." Cagalli admitted. "But some make the room look more-," She paused, trying to find the right word. "Normal."

Athrun chuckled. "How funny you are. You only think of taking flowers when you need those for interior decoration. Most girls go for flowers when those are presented or even around them- it's like an instinct."

She shrugged. "Maybe it is, but I got jaded. I got too many bouquets with too many pre-printed cards with only signatures. After a while, the flowers became less valuable and the hand-written cards became even more priceless."

Athrun laughed with her. "Tell me about the gifts you must have gotten from the hopefuls."

"The usual nonsense." Cagalli muttered. "More flowers, more candy that I gave to Aaron and his niece, and the most memorable- dried seahorses. Aaron stamped on that official's foot when he tried to present it."

"Those are delicacies, apparently." Athrun noted with great amusement. "And you rejected it just like that? You horrible person."

It was a strange conversation, Cagalli thought privately. Did lovers even sit around in bed, lazing away the evening and talking about their past lovers? Was that for men and women in relationships that mattered little anyway? And what about her and Athrun, who seemed to fall into neither category?

She smacked him on the shoulder mischievously, eyes twinkling. "It was Aaron who stamped on his foot, silly. I was mortified, of course, but secretly glad I wouldn't have to look at those poor creatures and boil them in soup for virility or something."

Cagalli knew she was enjoying how they were spending their evenings sitting around and talking. A small blush crept to her cheeks as she considered that she still felt close to Athrun even if he did something so little as to laugh with her and then fall asleep with her when they were too tired to continue their conversations late into the night.

But where this potentially dangerous set of topics were concerned, they'd settled into this cavalier sort of conversation mood.

If Athrun had shown dislike towards James Marlin or even envy as he had openly admitted to, then now, he seemed only mildly interested at the years she'd spent in unwilling blind dates or even pre-arranged dates.

She'd been forced to attend those by the Council of Elders and personal advisors, but Cagalli realised she was not about to tell him how unwilling she'd been as she'd gone through the motions. He would then ask why she'd been so unwilling, and she would be forced to verbalise thoughts she was still grappling to come to terms with.

Hence, she told him about the things she'd been given without telling him how little those had meant in the end. All the same, Cagalli realised he would sense this anyway. Now, she grilled him on what he understood of females in general.

"What makes a female happy, in your opinion?"

"It's a very limited one, mind you." He clucked his tongue at her.

"Well, even if it is limited, it is a nevertheless, important opinion," Cagalli grinned. "What kind of gifts usually make girls happy?"

He smirked at her, and she tried to ignore the frisson of excitement pooling in her. No doubt, Athrun could flirt if he bothered, and Cagalli wondered what it would be like to make him lose all his inhibitions for once. "As Dearka would say in that Casanova imitation of his, it all depends what kind of girl she is."

She pushed him onto his stomach and buried her face in his back, enjoying the warm surface of his skin and tracing her fingers near the nape of his neck.

"Oho," Cagalli laughed merrily. "If you've heard with Mr. Elsman had to say about the subject of skirt-chasing, I think your opinion is hardly limited, Athrun." She winked slyly at him. "Even if it is a bit of a second-hand opinion, and even if the most you've ever done to make a gift is to design an annoying bunch of haros."

"Hey!" Athrun protested. "Lacus likes those, alright?"

"You imposed those mechanical nuisances on her. I bet she felt so bad about rejecting those that she tried to name them to cultivate affection for those." Cagalli pointed out. "If Mr. Pink for a pink haro is an inspired name, then-," She snorted, "Inspiration must be as stale as it comes."

His lips twitched as he turned his head slightly to look at her. "Don't be cynical- that's my job. Besides, we were about thirteen, so I think it's perfectly normal to make things like that, or even to name it the most obvious sort of name. I think she probably labelled it for convenience's sake, not because it was a matter of affection."

Cagalli grinned. "Are you sure you looked at her face carefully when you presented her with a round ball that pretends to be cute?"

"If she likes noisy, slightly off-putting disco balls with extendable hands in those crazy colours, it's not a matter of my taste but hers!" He pretended to look insulted or maligned but came off chortling instead.

"You designed a bird that chirps with less life than me after an eight-hour marathon conference." Cagalli told him cheekily. "Although its one redeeming merit is that it chirps to remind you that it is supposed to be a bird."

With that, Athrun pinned her to the bed, rolling over her very neatly, and tickled her. She cried out in mirth, her eyes widening as she struggled and giggle, his laughter ringing out as well. When he finally listened to her pleads and her begging him to stop, Athrun arranged held her in his arms again, still laughing breathlessly.

She giggled again, looking up at him with little guile that her question might have actually held. "Did you get ideas for those gifts from your parents, Athrun?"

Athrun shook his head, his smile looking a little more hesitant. "Not really, unless you count the fact that I thought Kira wouldn't be allowed to keep pets like me either, so I made him a mechanical one. But where gifts were concerned-,"

He looked away, smiling slightly. "My father never really was a romantic sort of person." He smiled wryly. "If you consider making slightly strange toys as being romantic anyway."

"Chip off the old block then," Cagalli smiled, kissing his cheek. "I bet your father didn't even have to try hard to get everyone in the queue."

He tried to share her cheerfulness, but found himself telling her about what he'd observed from watching his parents as a child. "I'm not really sure it was like that. What makes you think he could get the girl even if he never subscribed to the conventional flowers?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" She said gently, stroking his face with her hand briefly. "You told me he was feeling pressured to settle down and show the world he could succeed at building a family even while his career was already very established. And that's why he married and had you. But I don't really think it was all about that, Athrun. Call me an optimist as you probably think I am where your father was concerned, but I think he must have worked hard in his own way to make your mother love him."

Privately, he wondered why the conversation always ran to things he had tried to hide away in the recesses of his memory. He had to be careful, Athrun reminded himself. It would not do to reveal too much to someone who was as reckless as her.

"It's funny you should say that. Have you seen what my mother looks like?" Athrun asked her soberly.

"Only in a photograph," Cagalli commented, remembering the very elegant looking woman whose smile was quiet and dignified like Athrun's, with the same hair, eyes and finely-chiselled features. "She looks like you."

He nodded, gazing at Cagalli and playing with a lock of her hair. As far as he could recall, nobody had ever commented that he looked like his father. Of course, many had assumed or even argued that his character was more like his father's, if only because the man had shaped him that way.

"Everyone says so." Athrun shrugged. "I must agree too."

"How'd they meet?"

"He caught sight of her at a Plant university she was studying in."

"Were they students together?" Cagalli said interestedly. "A college romance maybe?"

Athrun shook his head, a half-smile on his face. "Of course not. He was much older than her. She was a teaching assistant in Sociology, and finishing her doctorate at that time. Of course, she never got to do that because she married my father, who basically pursued her relentlessly until she caved in. After that, it was motherhood straightaway and she never even set foot in that university again."

He looked wryly at her. "Well, let's not go into the details of that and what I found out from his diaries. Those were part of an inheritance I'm not sure I should have received."

The diaries he'd received from his father's estate when he'd returned to Plant after being virtually banished from Orb had gelled his resolve to go to the Isle. If he had wanted a chance to forget the past for a while, then the diaries were even more of an incentive.

While Athrun had wanted to make a present and future that was vastly different than what his father's had been, he'd wanted to hold onto pieces of his father's thoughts that the state had labelled as dangerous material. That was the dilemma he'd always had in his life. He could have stayed as Alex Dino, but he had chosen to return as Athrun Zala. He could have been Rune Estragon until it was time to collect the price for his service to Plant and Zaft. But he'd been tempted to revert to being Athrun Zala with her. Perhaps, he had already given in for most part.

But looking at Cagalli, Athrun knew that she was still mostly unaware of the real reasons for his going to the Isle and even staying there for so long. For now though, Athrun decided, he'd let her think their conversation had no implication on her being here. She would be at ease that way, and she would feel safer with him that way.

Cagalli was tugging on his arm, her curiosity piqued. She was wheedling to find out. "Athrun! Tell me! I want to know!" She grinned self-consciously, realising how nosey she was being, her voice becoming a bit hesitant. "Only because I never knew my birth mother and father, so-," She shrugged. "I always wondered what made her love someone who ended up using his children in his experiments."

Drawing her even closer to him, Athrun looked at her, smiling softly. "Alright, I'll tell you. But I'm afraid that it'll disappoint you. It certainly wasn't some fairytale. Apparently, she was running late for a class and was cutting across some quadrangle field. He was passing along with his whole entourage- he was an up and coming politician by then, and he was only there at the university as a seminar guest of some sociology class to discuss his recent paper."

"What was that paper about?" Cagalli stared at Athrun, wondering if it was some kind of message against the Naturals. Her thoughts must have showed on her face, for Athrun shook his head.

He managed a smile, even if it was a wan one." I know what you're thinking. No, it wasn't like that- even to my surprise. I went to track the paper. It contained the key argument that Natural-Coordinator relations could exist, provided policies pushed harder towards that and made those sustainable by not retaliating if there was any grievance."

She was stunned. "W-Wait-, I thought he was always an opposition to Siegel Clyne-,"

"He wasn't always against Naturals, you know." Athrun said bitterly. "I think he blamed himself for wanting peace to the point of the Junius Seven incident. He used to make impassioned speeches that retaliation was not going to maintain Plant's relationship with the Earth Alliance. There was opposition to his and the then-chairman's ideals of course, but he shot down every single of those for a very long time. That's how Lacus and I became engaged." He smiled ruefully. "Not just for political alliance, but because our fathers had been very good friends and comrades even, until my mother got killed and my father's views veered to the opposition against Siegel Clyne's."

He shook his head a little. "I'm not sure my father was entirely wrong when he decided that Plant couldn't be a walkover and sacrifice people just for the sake of maintaining relations. Before the Junius Seven incident, the Earth Alliance sent out propaganda everywhere, persuading the Naturals that Coordinators weren't human. But Plant refused to retaliate with force because of Siegel Clyne and Patrick Zala."

"I never knew," Cagalli said shakily, clutching at Athrun's shoulders as she gazed at him. "I didn't know your father was so misunderstood-,"

"I bet you didn't even know of the time when Plant got news that the Coordinators on Earth were being rounded up and shot in the more extreme areas, even before the war broke out. So many Earth Alliance members were closing their eyes to it. Plant didn't even demand they stop their massacres, but pleaded that they try and understand the Coordinators who were living in Earth Alliance territories." Athrun looked very morose.

That had been the backdrop to which Siegel Clyne had decided to form the Numbers and to create an asylum within Scandinavia, which Clyne was familiar with. After all, Siegel Clyne was of Scandinavian descent himself.

That place had become the Isle. Now, Athrun looked at Cagalli, shaking his head a little as he summarised the details of the diaries he'd obtained.

"My father remained strong in his belief that one day, the Naturals would understand the Coordinators, especially the second and third-generation ones who were born Coordinators because their parents had made the decisions for them before they could even decide they didn't want their genes meddled with. My father used to be very adamant that if Plant remained peaceful, the Naturals would wake up one day and realise we were just as human as them and wanted to live peacefully, given that we were already far removed from earth and up in space."

"I think he regretted supporting Siegel Clyne's peaceful ways and how convinced he was that he'd found someone who could change the world with him the very day he pledged support for Chairman Clyne's foreign policies."

"After all-," Athrun said sadly, "He eventually came to believe that my mother had died for the peace he'd selfishly fought for. It wasn't just rage and hatred that made him betray the ideals he'd once argued so hard for or merely political manoeuvring to have Lacus' father and his one-time colleague and friend assassinated. It wasn't just revenge that made him plan the Genesis, Cagalli. It was his own guilt."

Cagalli could not bear to hear anymore. She buried her head in his chest, her breathing shaky. She hid her expression from him, but even while the sorrow threatened to swallow her while, Cagalli was glad that Athrun had opened himself to her on this. Even if he'd already lost the ability to feel anything but numbness where his parents were concerned, she would now share that burden.

A quiet smile touched Athrun's lips as he stroked Cagalli's head. Listlessly, he gazed around at the room. That she would feel pain for him was something Athrun found redemption in, even when he knew he had no right to ask her to sympathise with his father. But if she could, Athrun thought brokenly, she would understand why Athrun had to do all he had done over the seven years. If not today, tomorrow, then at least one day.

She was already accepting him- slowly, but most certainly. The room remained proof of that. While she still kept out of this room in the day, Athrun was aware that the room was showing incremental changes now. The window had been opened, the paper on the table used along with the pen, the sheets warm because they both occupied the room at night, and there was even a pot of tea she'd brought in from her room.

It looked vastly different from the time she'd never entered. Since Athrun had favoured the study before this, this room had certainly not seemed like his. Now, it seemed like theirs.

And yet-

He gazed at Cagalli, who'd stilled. Gently, he pulled her up to him as she closed her eyes, snuggling up to him, rubbing her face tiredly against his neck. He ran his hand gently through her slightly damp her, pulling the sheets over them.

Soon, she was fast asleep because was emotionally spent, and he watched her still, savouring the moments when he could see her at complete ease. Her hands were small and fine against his chest as she clung a little to him, embracing the warmth of his form, and he kissed her forehead quietly, thinking of the years that had gone by.

Even if he would destroy her eventually, even if he would betray her one day, even if he would have to sacrifice her despite him being honest with himself and knowing that he still loved her, Athrun knew it was enough that she was with him now.

Even if he would never have her completely, Athrun told himself fiercely, this was good enough. As she had said, this was good enough.

* * *

In another bedroom, the windows had been opened to let in the air. It gave the room a great deal more light and a freshness that Lacus was thankful for, and now she leaned back, savouring the few minutes she had left with Kira.

The baby was a small bundle, its hands in mittens and its mouth mewling quietly. Cradling her child to her, Lacus gazed at Kira, her expression somehow proud and silently overjoyed. But there was a kind of grief in her face too, and Kira could sense it. Protectively, he wrapped his arm around her as they sat in their bed, watching as their newborn son nursed with his eyes still closed.

"I don't want you to worry." Lacus told him steadily. "We'll be absolutely fine."

"I know." He admitted. "But I can't help it. I want to be with you both, and it's taking a chunk out of me to know you'll be alone here when I return to Orb in-," He checked his watch, fighting back his sigh. "-in a few hours' time."

He cast his eyes on the things he'd packed, lying in a corner of the room.

She smiled for him. "You can't help many things, but for those you can, you must. And you can help Orb now. I trust you to do that. I'm sure Cagalli does as well. Besides, I'm not going to be alone. They're coming to visit soon."

Kira stroked their son's tiny head gently with his curved palm. "It's surprising that Shinn came back from Panama. Still, I'm glad he's going to be around, even if I won't get to meet him or Lunamaria." He shook his head a little. "I haven't seen them both in ages."

"Rest assured." Lacus said tranquilly. "The three of them promised they'd keep in contact with you and I promise I will too. Shinn will take lots of photos and get them over to you, and it'll be almost like you're here with us." Her smile dimmed a little. "Almost."

He smiled wryly. "Almost here is the best I can do for now, it seems. I'm sorry, Lacus."

Her eyes softened. "Go on then. Have you packed everything?"

Kira nodded, standing up reluctantly and moving to the chair where his coat and luggage was. The baby seemed to sense the absence of his hand and shifted a little, but Lacus placated it almost immediately, hushing it with tiny, soft pats of her hand against their son.

His expression was firm but she knew he was pained inside. He had explained to her what he was going to do upon returning to Orb, and Lacus had agreed that it was the only way, even if it did seem a bit wrong.

"That's the most you can do for now." She'd told him.

"I wonder if I had the right to tell her that she was changing into a completely different person." Kira said soberly. "Back then, when she made those decisions. I'm making those now. The same ones she chose. The very same ones."

As she watched her husband leave, Lacus wondered if her old fears were becoming part of reality once more. This had been what she'd always been afraid of in the Second War, and those doubts had plagued her each time she'd been forced to be apart from Kira.

When she'd given him the key to unlocking the Freedom once more, she'd known exactly what she was unlocking. She'd already seen the anger dart in his face when he'd pushed her to safety from the assassins, and she'd seen how strangely calm and remarkably composed he'd been when he'd asked her to give him the Freedom. She'd seen that glazed, unnatural silence in his eyes and now, she knew it was similar to the transformation that was taking place in her husband. Orb did not know her pain.

Even now, as the door closed quietly and a few silent tears fell on her hand that she'd placed to prevent them from spilling on the child, Lacus knew if was only a matter of time before Kira would become the person she was afraid of seeing- a person who believed that he had nothing more to lose.

The baby began to cry suddenly, and vexed, Lacus cradled it in her arms, rocking it, trying to hush it. She gazed at the clock some distance away, and wondered if Kira would understand that every minute felt like a year.

In her consternation because she couldn't understand why the child was crying when he had not soiled his diapers, Lacus could only hope and pray that he would stop soon. She smiled, making chirpy noises at it, trying to be calm and trying to feel like she was in control. Surely, mothers were supposed to put their children at ease?

The baby was thankfully not screaming- the boy was quite a quiet one. Still, it was sobbing and Lacus tried to keep her voice patient and soothing as she continued rocking it. Then getting an idea, she got up, leaving the child on the bed for a minute as she fetched from toys that Kira had bought.

Lying next to her son, she rattled the toy, and the baby stopped crying to gaze at it in what was clearly an expression of interest. Giggling with a bit of relief now and feeling infinitely less frazzled, Lacus scooped Leon up and cradled him once more, still using her other hand to dangle the brightly coloured toy before the child.

Her arms were beginning to hurt, but it didn't matter. Exhausted but with a determination that surprised even herself, Lacus managed to soothe the child, and fell asleep even as the time ticked by.

Outside that bedroom, the world went on.

A dog outside the estate whined for its owner who had yet to return from work, and a cat a few metres away lay in a gutter, ill with sickness and weak with hunger. It would die in a few minutes. A passer-by ignored it, rushing on his way to meet his colleagues for lunch, feeling a bit guilty. If he had the time, he would have normally brought it to a vet. That was just a few bus stops away. Three kilometres away, two children played with toy soldiers and one lost his temper and stamped on the other child's toys, making his playmate burst into great, heaving sobs. From the benches, the adults rushed by, both quarrelling like their children now.

In that same city of Plant, the council was welcoming guests to their new embassy. Two blocks away, a couple were signing their divorce papers and discussing the custody of the children. And in the flat below theirs, an old man was fumbling for his keys. Next door, a young woman had received her first bouquet and was jumping on her bed for joy.

In the same city of Aprilius, Lacus lay in her own bed, with her son. In her dreams, she'd returned to a place she could not identify or quite recognise, except that she knew it was a place of happier times.

* * *

Later in the day, Cagalli challenged Athrun for Ko's sake.

Their breaths were laboured and painful, and she could see sweat beading at his forehead. She knew it because she could feels hers as well.

He was waiting. She could see it in his eyes. That patient, killer-instinct was a direct opposite of her almost-defensive aggression. Cagalli glanced at him and saw that he was holding his own wooden weapon in a way that suggested slightly less ease than what she'd expected. He was probably more used to a knife, Cagalli supposed.

"I'm going to- collapse," She panted, her smile "I don't think I- can win-this- this-,"

He was breathing heavily too, and Cagalli was not sure if had gone easy on her or was equally spent as her. From the looks of it, it was the latter, even though she was quite sure he wasn't going all out even if he had something to lose. Or maybe, she considered, he didn't think of it as something to lose.

She frowned, thinking of Ko, who was cheering for her. For once, he was hoping his teacher would lose.

"To your credit," Athrun said in a slightly breathless voice too, "I never thought it'd take this long to finish. You're quite persistent."

"Only because you won't give up and roll over," She said exasperatedly. "You know there's no way I'm as good as you. I don't really see why I have to do so much just to t-,"

He cut her short by leaping at her with a sudden violence and speed that took her off-guard. Cagalli only just blocked his attack in time and hissed, "No fair!"

"I'm glad you caught onto reality." Athrun said evenly, slashing fast now as he moved forward and she was forced to defend herself at every point. There was no fixed pattern to how he was attacking, and she was relying on pure instinct and her vision. She was afraid to blink, for Athrun would surely take advantage of that moment.

And because she decided she couldn't keep retreating, she launched into her trademark recklessness.

Grasping the wooden sword now, Cagalli cried out as she charged towards him. He began charging towards her too, his eyes locked onto her hands, his body lighter and lither than hers could move. As least, it seemed that way when it was she feeling the ache and groan in her muscles and the weight of her soles taking the impact of the floor.

From the diagonals of the hall, their swords clashed, and Cagalli found herself slashing in the air at random, knowing that she was already losing control of her grip.

Somehow or the other, she managed, by sheer force, to knock away at Athrun's weapon, even though he'd attempted that first. Ko broke out into cheer.

Panting with excitement and surprise, Cagalli pointed her weapon at his face, grinning.

He shrugged.

"I've won," Cagalli whooped. "You didn't think I would, did you?" Her eyes sparkled with the glee of victory, and Athrun allowed himself a small smile. "Now you'll have no reason not to bring Ko swimming this afternoon."

He looked away for a second, turning to the boy who was seated on a bench. Ko was staring, wide-eyed, at the woman who'd bested his purportedly-invincible teacher. "I suppose I must keep to my word."

She turned around to Ko, giving him a thumbs-up. He returned it, and she couldn't help laughing and calling out in jubilation, "Well, get your swimming things ready!"

He sprang up with excitement and dashed out of the hall, probably to fetch Pepita as well. As Cagalli mopped at her brow a little, grinning at the dust trails Ko had probably left behind, she realised that Athrun was silent.

As she turned around, Cagalli felt a chill travel through her. Athrun was holding the wooden sword between her eyes.

The stare in his eyes was a disquieting one, and she stammered, "H-Hey. I thought it was over-,"

He smiled a little, even though his eyes were still lacking warmth. "You've improved, haven't you?"

Cagalli paused, considering this. He had been teaching her for the past few days, along with Ko.

Despite Cagalli being rather well-versed in the basics of attack and defence, thanks to Kisaka and the lessons that she'd forced out of him, Athrun had honed those skills.

He was a patient and observant person, she realised, and those traits favoured him as a teacher. He'd agreed to teach her how to increase her speed and suddenness of attack through some tricks at her request, and she'd often lingered behind even when all the aides had left to be taught by Athrun.

Some days ago, he'd insisted that she practise her shooting skills. Naturally, Cagalli had been reluctant to for reasons she could not verbalise, even if Athrun probably knew what these reasons were already. Moreover, he'd handed her a small pistol she was less used to than a long-range rifle, even when Cagalli had told him of her preference.

"I know you're already adept at the long-range sort." He'd told her, the halls empty save for them and the targets at a very close distance today. "But not for the close-range shooting."

"It's easy, isn't it? Cagalli had scoffed. "Near is easier than far, and if I can handle the long-range kind, I certainly don't have to practise when the target is right in front of me."

He had shaken his head, promoting a look of surprise from her. "You're not good at close-range firing. I know. I survived your close-range firing more than once."

"Oh!" She'd recalled the first time they'd met when he'd still defeated with only a knife, the second time when she'd fired and thrown the gun away at the same time, and even on the SS Rafael, when she'd wound up shooting herself. A small blush crept onto her cheeks. "Those were fluke incidents-,"

"No." Athrun had interjected, looking firmly at her. "Close-range shooting takes just as much or even more control and mental strength to get the accuracy you need."

"Well, I don't really need it," Cagalli had shrugged. He'd looked at her strangely, with an expression she couldn't quite place, and she'd relented. "Alright- since it's a free lesson."

He'd only smiled then. A quiet, tender smile that had made her think that he insisted she learn something she didn't already know because it would give him more time with her.

For that reason, she'd put her heart into learning how to shoot accurately at close-range. Along with that, Cagalli had learnt how to increase the impact of her physical attacks. What had been a single lesson had turned out to be a series of it.

As she had thought in the past, Cagalli considered, physical attacks were not useful when the attacker was right in front of her with a gun. But looking at the silent Athrun and what he'd taught her, Cagalli now knew that putting the element of surprise in the physical attack could help her. He'd repeated himself on that quite a bit, and while she'd thought of it as a good pedagogical approach, Athrun had seemed to emphasise it for a deeper reason.

She pursed her lips, thinking of the way he'd still managed to pin her down with nothing except a knife and his experience of attack and how he'd moved quickly to a cliff to ambush her from above. He had taught her how to aim at close range and to fire without hesitation. But what had he emphasised this so much for?

While she couldn't find an answer, at least the new skills had served her well in helping Ko earn an afternoon swim in the sea. She'd asked Athrun if she could bring Ko for a swim, and he'd replied, "Only if you defeat me."

"Athrun, why don't you put the sword down and come with us?" She said nervously. He only looked at her wordlessly, and she shivered a little. "Uh- Athrun,"

"If you are in a fight," He said softly, so softly and so suddenly she thought it was her imagination, "Don't show mercy. Or hesitation. You must kill if you are threatened, without any thought except your survival."

Her lips parted in surprise, and slowly, he lowered the sword. Her heart was pulsating madly, and she knew her throat was dry when she managed to squeeze out some words. "Why-,"

He suddenly grabbed her into his embrace, shaking his head slightly. In his heart, he knew why it was vital that she learn how to fire without hesitation if the attacker was right before her. Even if he had to force her to, Cagalli had to recover from the fear of shooting with the intent of killing. If what Shinn had told him was true and more frequent than he'd realised, then Athrun had to ensure that Cagalli would know how to protect herself. She would have to do so in the near future.

And without understanding why, without having to know the reasons why, she hugged him back. That was the trust he knew he'd established with her.

At the worst possible time however, Ko rushed in and skidded to a halt. The pail and spade he had in his hand, presumably for sand-castles, swung aimlessly in his grip. Pepita however, continued barking and running around his ankles. Ko looked at them, his jaw wide open, and then he smiled, a wide, happy beam that lacked any guile an adult would have had.

Embarrassed, Cagalli let go of Athrun, sneaking a sheepish glance at each him. He smiled at her, then at the giggling Ko, but Cagalli could see that there was a hidden worry behind it.

"Come with us," She requested, taking his hand and offering her other one to Ko. "All of us can go, can't we?"

Athrun wondered how he would broach the subject of him leaving for a week. It wasn't a matter of him being able to up and leave and come back when it was done. It was now a matter of him having something to look forward to returning to. It was a strange, almost unfamiliar experience he'd never quite had on the Isle, but looking at Cagalli, he understood why.

Ko grabbed his hand now, and the three of them were effectually a circle.

Athrun gazed at both of them, relenting. He could make Tom wait for an hour, Athrun supposed, smiling a little at Cagalli and Ko.

"I'm supposed to be slogging my guts out at work." Athrun said ruefully.

Cagalli grinned. "You're supposed to be."

He smiled. "I suppose staying for just one more hour wouldn't hurt."

"No." Ko echoed this eagerly, "It can't possibly."

They were going for something like a swim near the beach when Ko was supposed to be practising his sums and essays and Athrun was supposed to be in Prague. But he wanted to be with them.

Looking at Cagalli and her conspicuous absence of questions, he knew she had put her trust completely in him. And that made Athrun feel some guilt. While he was under a duty not to reveal anything, he'd already thrown away so much obligation to Zaft and Plant in return for Cagalli that it seemed wrong to keep so much from her.

But he could tell Cagalli later, he supposed. He would, eventually. Everything had to be said at a certain point, that Athrun knew. Gazing at the child and Cagalli, he wanted it later rather than sooner.

* * *

The Orb president was standing tall before the judges and the members of parliament. His hands were shaking a little, although his voice was firm and steady enough.

Standing next to him, Kira could only hope that the Orb president would not suddenly be possessed and refuse to go along with exercise of power that Kira hoped for.

It was necessary, Kira told himself firmly. Even if it meant he was keeping information from people when they deserved to have it, at least the media would be better controlled. How else would he be able to establish the continuation of trust he required to run Orb, unless the media was prevented from making wild accusations and making him seem like the villain here?

"We have thirteen yeas and ten nays," the president announced. "And therefore, Kira Yamato, Proxy of Orb, has permission to enact clause seventeen, section twelve-two of the Conferral of Powers Act. His intended actions of putting every form of media under scrutiny of the Internal Security Council and for any form of media to be prohibited at the same council's discretion are both justified and constitutional."

The mutterings rose into conversations that Kira heard nothing of. Standing before the crowd in this room and knowing that there were the crowds that had probably milled around and were waiting outside the chambers, Kira felt exhaustion tear at his nerves. Bearing it with the thought of his child and Lacus, he nodded briefly and stepped out of the room, bodyguards trailing after him.

Even those would not help him, he thought curtly to himself, as he reached the steps of the Parliament house. As the doors were flung open, the flash of a thousand bulbs went off simultaneously, and the world reduced to madness and sound.

"Proxy! Comment on what you were afraid of when you enacted th-,"

"Sir! Sir! Look over here!"

"Mr. Yamato, when can we expect the Orb Princess to be b-,"

A reporter shoved past the cordons and stuck a microphone under his nose, shouting a question that Kira heard only half of. He ignored it, making his way forward steadily, a bodyguard leading him to the car that waited. Kira did not have to observe it to know that it was bullet-proof and that even mobs would not be able to get in.

From where he sat, Shinn leaned forward, peering at the telly. Lacus was talking to Lunamaria in her room, and Meyrin was taking a nap in the guest room Lacus had directed to upon their arrival. In the meantime, Shinn was keeping up with the news and what Athrun had instructed him to do.

Taking the camera in his hands to review the shots he'd obtained, Shinn smiled, thinking of the child that had looked at him and clutched his finger when he'd offered it.

"You know," Lacus had said quietly. "I wish Cagalli could be here. And Athrun too."

Shinn had fought back his surprise. "Why Athrun?"

She'd looked back at Shinn sadly. "He's the godfather of this child."

Amidst the jostling crowds, Shinn could spot Kira on screen. The commentator was screeching something Shinn promptly muted.

He rubbed his face, imagining the thousands of people fighting to speak to Kira, fighting to be heard, fighting to air their opinions on whether Kira Yamato's decision was justified, and fighting in general.

He yawned a bit, not from boredom but his jet lag that was making him a bit woozy as he'd only just returned from Panama. But as it was, Shinn had obtained that glimpse of Kira Yamato, and he knew that Athrun had been correct. Kira was turning to be more decisive and even more ruthless, if one could call his decision that.

"Atha," He muttered. "Kira's on your scent, that's for sure."

* * *

The sounds of bells in the distance made Athrun frown. But the steeple was far away, and they were in a distant room, far removed from the town square. The outskirts of Prague were almost ruins by nature and by the war's aggravation to the once-magnificent structures, and the small inns that offered lodging charged little and had few guests.

Still, Athrun wondered if someone was listening next door. But Epstein was pacing outside and periodically checking the two neighbouring rooms to ensure nobody was in there eavesdropping. All three rooms, including the one Athrun was in, had been checked for bugs.

Erik Strumsson looked vastly different from the last time Athrun had seen him. He had lost a great deal of weight, looked even more gaunt than before, and seemed nothing like what Athrun could remember from the photographs.

"We've located your wife." Athrun told him, but only after they'd locked all the doors, windows. While it was a bit stifling in the small place, Athrun found it did not matter. "She's definitely not with Greyfriars. He swore to me that he had nothing to do with her disappearance."

The purportedly-dead man who was the Scandinavia and Swedish Crown Princess' husband sat up. The life was returning to his face. His eyes lighted up and he demanded, "Then where is she?"

"She is still within the palace." Athrun told him quietly, hushing Erik. "Locked up. But we think she is unharmed, even if her condition is already weak. She will probably be used as a political figure head to rally Scandinavia to fight when Orb enters, despite the agreement that Orb has the right to enter once the sixth month has passed completely."

Erik's fist made contact with the table. "That bastard! She always doted on him!"

"The King's not healthy." Athrun informed him as well, recalling what Sheba's aide had reported to her and then reported to Athrun. While all guards save a few had been ordered out of the palace, a kitchen boy could still be disguised to stay around there. "And he won't last very long. Nobody knows what will happen when he dies. But we have to be patient and wait to see."

Erik look despondently at Athrun. "Remember when we dined with Greyfriars? I knew that they were targeting the Orb Princess. Naturally, I thought they'd targeted Freja next. I didn't know-," His expression broke but he tried to control his emotions immediately.

Athrun looked away, thinking of the dinner they'd had those months ago. He'd put on the impression that he was reluctant to meet Cagalli on the SS Rafael and bring her back to the Isle during that dinner. However, as Rune Estragon, he'd insidiously convinced Greyfriars he could bring her there with no delay and with as little problem as possible. Even at the start of the dinner, it had been very clear that the group had been keen for Athrun to be the one to meet their target.

He was silent, patiently waiting for Erik to regain his control. Erik was a very proud, strong person, and Athrun knew Erik had been pushed to the point where he could not maintain that façade at every point or moment. Athrun knew, because he was going through a similar experience.

"I even swore to kill Greyfriars if he'd harmed her." Erik shook his head scornfully. "I was thrown off-scent, wasn't I? I had my suspicions, but not this. Not this!"

"He's a monster." Athrun said quietly. He stood up, taking his coat and his cap. "Be careful. You're hiding in this place but they could sniff you out. Beware of everyone- every single person you meet. It's necessary you remain like this- hidden away. I can't guarantee your safety otherwise."

Erik looked at him dully, not saying anything.

In turn, Athrun did not show sympathy to a man who needed none. He left wordlessly as well. As he closed the door, he nodded to Epstein, who had been guarding the corridor. Epstein joined him and they walked down, side by side, moving out of the small inn.

The innkeeper, a little old man, was asleep by the fire with a cat on his knee. He had been bewildered to find guests for his one guest, but Athrun was still wary of this innocuous looking elderly person.

Now, they stepped out into the streets, which were steaming with people even in the distinctively more chilly air. In fact, more tourists seemed to have arrived, and Athrun pursed his lips as he tried to get past a bunch of them while making sure he wasn't pick-pocketed. Epstein did the same as they dodged a man carrying a crate of fruit on his head who looked ready to fall down or drop his things.

"Say," Epstein panted quietly, both of them squeezing past a group of children who were probably part of a syndicate now. "What will happen to Cagalli?"

Athrun did not answer, and Epstein knew to leave it at that. But he knew that his foster parent was troubled. There were too many things he was keeping from Cagalli, Epstein thought to himself. Far too many things.

Watching the back of the man he thought of as Athrun Zala but worked with as Rune Estragon, a top intelligencer for Plant and Zaft, Epstein wondered what Athrun and Cagalli's pasts had really been. Through what he had gathered and seen, Epstein knew exactly what Athrun felt for Cagalli, even if her feelings were not so clear towards Athrun.

Epstein sighed under his breath, keeping close to Athrun as they walked briskly to the yacht that was waiting. As they approached, making sure nobody was following, Athrun noticed the gigantic dog wagging its tail from where it sat on the yact. Even far away, Boarbaki was quite visible. Tom had been waiting for them.

The yacht, despite its normal appearance, would become a submarine-like vehicle once they'd travelled a safe distance away in the open sea, and as Epstein stepped aboard, avoiding Boarbaki, he knew that it was time to act on his own plans.

Athrun seemed to be in a less than fair mood, for he ignored Boarbaki completely, as he did its owner who greeted them enthusiastically and demanded to know why Epstein had brought back only one kebab when Boarbaki would try to share that too.

As Epstein watched Athrun, he wondered why Athrun had chosen to give the Orb citizenship he'd obtained to Kitani Ko. Cagalli hadn't probably even understood half of what Athrun had really wanted when she'd agreed to authorise one.

But if he was lucky, Epstein thought, all would go well. Even if Epstein had to suffer for it eventually by losing the only parent he'd really known, it was time to repay Athrun. Surely, it wasn't enough to merely work for Athrun Zala when the service was in Plant and Zaft's name, especially when Athrun Zala had given up his freedom to ensure Epstein would not have to take over as the Fifth Eye.

He could remember the fight they'd had all those years ago- when Athrun Zala had chosen to extend his contract and therefore prevented Epstein from getting the promotion that Epstein had been looking forward to.

"Aren't your three years up?" Epstein had said sharply. Despite his liking for Athrun, he had been anticipating the moment when he'd finally become an Eye too and risk even more for Plant.

But Athrun had only looked at him in a brittle sort of way and remarked, "Aren't you a little old to believe in the glories of serving your country and a little too young to take on the killing?"

What they had argued about on that day had effectually erased what Epstein understood to be his identity. Suddenly, the parents he'd kept at the back of his mind seemed to become his living shadows, and Epstein had realised exactly why Athrun had been so protective of him.

Thinking back to the past, Epstein smiled silently, drumming out the constant chattering Tom did even when nobody was really listening to him. Epstein had been a staunch, unquestioning solider at one point, but Athrun had changed that too. He would always remember the day when he'd found out that Athrun would not be leaving but staying on the Isle indefinitely. And Epstein would always remember why Athrun had done that.

So for that, Epstein would do anything he could to let Athrun have at least a stab at happiness. Glancing at Tom who was still chirping away and Boarbaki who was whining, then comparing it to Athrun's sober silence, Epstein smiled to himself.

Athrun would approve in the end.

* * *

If Aaron Biliensky had immaculate taste and knew how to go for things that were intrinsically worth keeping, then he was sure as his name was Aaron Biliensky that James Sean Marlin was not to be trusted. After all, Aaron thought assuredly, staring at Marlin with scepticism, good-looking men were aplenty, and the number who turned out to be scumbags were always the same coincidental few.

Kira was a few rooms away, meeting a few ministers to discuss the plans for how Orb was going to react when the dateline was passed. The meeting had gone on for three hours now, and Aaron was beginning to fret. Kira had only returned from Plant a few days ago, but he was definitely even more swamped with work.

Marlin however, seemed amused and continued drinking his tea.

Frustrated at Marlin's calmness, Aaron glared at him. While he knew Marlin could not possibly meddle with the governance and similar issues, the look of complete composure made Aaron very rattled.

"I'm sorry," Marlin said courteously, leaning forward a little on his elbows to look at the glaring Aaron. "But is there something wrong with my face?"

There was indeed, everything perfect about the man's face- perfect to the point of infuriation. Angular and smooth-skinned, Marlin's cheekbones were killer slopes and his eyes were that intriguing shade that really showed up with his dark, almost-black hair. Aaron bit back the lash that his tongue itched to deliver and forced a smile instead.

"Nothing," He assured Marlin. He couldn't resist a glare now. "But I want you to know that you've put me a spot."

Marlin sighed, his broad, very, very nice shoulders sagging a little. Aaron of course, picked this up and stared at him. Marlin hastened to explain. "Sorry, Aaron. I know I have. Cagalli's going to kill you and me when she gets back."

"Look," Aaron said sniffily, "I don't really care if she's upset with you, but I'm not going to have her mad at me."

"Why?" Marlin said laughingly, his eyes snapping up as he looked at the very uptight Aaron. "Are you in love with her?"

Aaron threw him a scathing look that would have skinned any normal man's face alive, except that this was Marlin and his skin was extremely thick.

"Holy Haumea." Aaron fumed. "I'm gay. Isn't it obvious? Exceedingly? To the point of me being screaming gay? And aren't you too old and too busy for jokes like these? Aren't you bothered at all by what the papers-" He jabbed one elegant but impatient finger at the piles that lay on his desk, "-have churned up? And those statements you gave- those have multiplied and gave birth to whole new stories I could compile a soap opera series on! You know, it's really going to be your fault if Cagalli comes back and has a tough time worming her way out of-,"

"Yes, yes," Marlin interjected, finally able to get a word between Aaron's tirade. "I'm sorry. Truly, I am." He cast a dark eye on the papers. "I didn't expect it to get this out of hand."

"You're dealing with crazy people who worship the ground she walks on," Aaron exploded, rolling up one newspaper as if to threaten a badly-behaved dog.

He marched up to Marlin and smacked Marlin on the shoulder, despite Marlin being significantly taller than him. "You should have expected that from the start! Or at least, when those reporters began the whole, 'ooh-let's-see-who-can-say-Haumea-a-thousand-times-in-a single-breath-right- after-the-words-Orb-Princess' title shtick!"

Marlin flinched a little, shaking his head and smiling helplessly. He took the rolled up paper from Aaron and unfolded it, beginning to read from it.

"This paper reports we were planning to start a family," Marling surmised from it. "And it's the main paper people read too."

Aaron rolled his eyes. "My point exactly. I think you took it too far."

There was a long pause as Marlin got up, stretching a little and then sitting back slowly with an ease that Aaron realised was instinctive and natural. Then Marlin bent forward, a frown on his face. "I don't think so, Aaron."

"Why?" Aaron's tone was sharp. He looked at the good-looking, charismatic figure before him and wondered if it was James Marlin who sat before him or the Britannian Premier.

Marlin shook his head slowly. "I think I know why you are wary of me- more wary than Kira Yamato."

"Let's see you pick at it." Aaron said brusquely. "Why do you think I want to keep you in check with the comments you make about your relationship with Cagalli? Relationship with the inverted commas, of course."

"I'm her friend, aren't I?" Marlin said equally strongly. He was starting to look a bit annoyed. "You think you're the only one who can help her? Then why did you bring me in here and ask me to be part of this elaborate ploy to secure her place in Orb even while she's missing?"

"Because I was wrong, that's why!" Aaron exclaimed. "For Pete's sake, I thought you would do it on account of the friendship, not some other interest I'm beginning to suspect you have! Why are you letting things go this far with the media and what they understand of you and Cagalli?"

"But we have gone through most of what they are writing about." Marlin insisted. "We're good friends, like you say."

"I'm no newly sun-burnt creature that crawled out from under some rock you know," Aaron looked disapprovingly of him. "You better tell me the real reason why you flew over here from London exactly one hour after I called."

The silence that spread itself over the room was suffocating and burdensome. But if Aaron had hoped Marlin would keep his thoughts to himself to prevent Aaron's suspicions from being confirmed as reality, Aaron had been too wishful.

Marlin paused, then smiled grimly. "You want to know, do you? Then I'll tell you. Because I love her, that's why."

Aaron stood up, nearly knocking his chair over in his flustered state. His face showed how upset he was. "You can't!"

"Why can't I?" Marlin challenged, standing up and looking almost defiantly at Aaron. "I'm a close friend to her at very least, and if I had the chance to be near her, I'd prove that I deserve her! All this I'm doing- handling the media's attention, the constant hounding, the politics in Orb and in Britannia- you think I like this?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think I agreed to do this?"

Aaron shook his head, willing himself to be calm. He prayed that whoever was listening would help him to reason out with this impassioned fool, but at the same time, Aaron understood why Marlin was discarding his cavalier, utterly relaxed disposition and becoming this worked-up. "James Marlin, you listen and you listen up good. I don't care about your reasons for doing this. I'd be an idiot if I didn't expect you were close to Cagalli and wanted to make things closer. But I'd be an idiot if I let you take advantage of the situation I put you in to _help_."

"Don't be silly Aaron." Marlin said firmly. His eyes darkened, and his expression was dead serious. "I didn't come here to take advantage of the situation. You know I came here because I wanted a chance to prove myself- even if she may or may not see it right now."

Aaron softened a little, understanding the turmoil Marlin as going through. They'd all been in love once, hadn't they? Aaron could empathise with that at very least.

Marlin's eyes narrowed. "But you know there's a trade-off for everything in life. There's always a price to something. This is the price of you bringing me in to help. You knew this was the price- you knew I loved her from the start, even if you told me that you were only roping me in because I seemed to be the closest to her outside Orb."

"I didn't think you'd really take this chance as a payment for helping Cagalli." Aaron said quietly. He dragged his hand tiredly down his face. "Even if I knew that everywhere, there was a price to something. I guess I really was a fool. An idealistic idiot."

He laughed soberly- bitterly, even, looking straight at Marlin. There was no contempt in Aaron's face, only sadness. "Before you said admitted all this, I thought that loving someone even unrequitedly, especially her, was not a matter of price."

And Marlin's face paled as he sank back into the seat, wearied as if he'd run for a long time and without a single moment of rest.

* * *

The next day, they went swimming again. If she had thought of Ko as a child who wanted affection, now she thought of Ko as something of an extension of herself. He was a bright, adorable child who faced everyone with innocence and a cheerfulness that Cagalli loved. While Ko was ultimately a child and children were generally open to becoming close with others, she couldn't remember when she had felt such affinity with another child.

The water splashed against her face, and she laughed merrily, splashing some back. Ko waded to Cagalli, his fair skin bright under the light and his expression telling of his happiness. The boy swam faster than she could move away, and he was suddenly clinging to her like a koala in the water, the sea sprays against their arms and necks. She laughed, hugging him tight, feeling how virtually weightless he was.

At the shoreline, they'd built two gigantic sandcastles. Ko had decorated his with seaweed and shells, and Cagalli had cordoned off hers with driftwood. They could still see the monuments and Ko's pail and spade from where they were paddling in the water.

Pepita was running in zig-zag lines, up and down the shore, barking madly at her master. Ko hadn't allowed her into the water because he didn't want to have to bathe her later, and he'd sternly told his pet to wait.

Ko was chattering without a single pause, and listening to him made Cagalli think of Pepita, who was an excitable little puppy like her master too. The way his eyes sparkled and his cheeks were flushed with his activity made her grin.

The way Ko looked at her however, made her think of his mother. Harumi had looked at her with the same trust, and now Cagalli wondered if the weight was actually greater than what she had been conscious of.

"And then," Ko was saying enthusiastically, "Mr. Estragon took out this big box-," He let go of Cagalli's waist that he had hugged tight before, only to demonstrate the box's width, "And he told me I was ready for some responsibility. That's how I got Pepita!" He promptly hugged her again in his irrepressible joy and his abundant youth. "I think he knew I always wanted a pet, and he got one for me on the sly. I want to give him something too, for his birthday!"

Cagalli stared, eyes widening. "Birthday?"

"It's coming soon," Ko chirped. "Epstein told me. He and the twins are planning a surprise party, and they are discussing it in their spare time." He grinned bashfully at her. "Now you're in on the secret too!"

"Do you always give him something for his birthday too?" Cagalli asked curiously. She had never presented anything to Athrun for his birthday before, nor had he. They'd never quite celebrated anything like that, she realised, but she dismissed the regret that she suddenly felt.

"Last last year," Ko revealed, "I got him a bookmark! Epstein taught me how to carve it, and I made it as thin as possible!," He looked proudly at her. "But I didn't have enough time and it was a bit thick, so he uses it as a paperweight."

Cagalli chuckled at Ko's obliviousness to his failed attempt at creating a bookmark, and ruffled his wet hair affectionately.

"And then," Ko continued excitedly, "He assured me it was very useful and said it was one of the nicest things he'd ever received! So I think he really liked it!"

She laughed with him, enjoying the stories he was telling her of Athrun. "And what about Epstein, Ko? Do you like him as much as Mr. Estragon?"

"He's awesome too," Ko said loyally, looking at her without a hint of guile in his face. "He can do all sorts of difficult Math problems- he teaches me and the twins and he never needs any kind of electronic device to do the sums for him!"

"That's incredible, "Cagalli agreed, "I was always terrible at Mathematics."

"But Mr. Estragon said it was a necessary evil," Ko said innocently, widening his eyes and nodding because he believed everything Athrun had told him. "Like many things in the world. He told me to be careful of many things too."

She paused, considering whether she was doing anything wrong by hoping to get answers from Ko. Athrun trusted her not to take advantage of the boy's naiveté, didn't he? But what she was doing, Cagalli assured herself, was merely getting to know Ko better.

"Ko," Cagalli said gently, "What did he tell you to be afraid of?"

He pursed his fine lips a little, blinking owlishly and trying to recall what Athrun had said in the verbatim form, Cagalli supposed. She was correct. He grinned at her, saying without hesitation, "He said to be careful of the people who are closest to me."

"That's interesting," Cagalli commented, even though she felt her heart sink. "Wouldn't that include everyone you love?"

Ko nodded. They bobbed about in the water, a bit like corks floating aimlessly on the sea's surface. "He says that if you care for someone, others may take advantage of that and use that care against you. Or worse, the very people you care for may turn against you one day. He told me that you always have to make sure you're prepared for that day, and that you will know how to protect yourself when that day comes."

Her eyes regarded him gravely. So Athrun had been teaching this boy how to survive in so many ways, and she grieved the loss of that childish innocence Ko would eventually go through as the years passed. "A very valuable lesson. Are you prepared for the day he might betray you?"

Ko missed the point of the question completely. He shook his head adamantly, Pepita still howling from the shore. "He'd never betray me, Cagalli."

"Why not?" She said in surprise. Had Athrun taught the boy to mistrust everyone except him?

"Because he, Epstein, the twins and my mother are the people who protect me." Ko said with all the conviction he could muster. Coming from a young boy, Cagalli felt a strange sense of gladness overcome her doubts. If hope was foolish, then at least a boy would be happy in his hope and optimism.

"I think Mr. Estragon wanted you to realise that even the people who protect you may be unable to some day." Cagalli said quietly. "And that they may even be people you don't trust at one point."

"Not Mr. Estragon," Ko insisted stubbornly. "When I first came here without my mother, he found out I was afraid of the dark and couldn't sleep. He installed a tiny light just for me, and one time, it got spoilt and I woke up and cried." He blushed a little, a bit embarrassed. "He heard me and came over, and he hugged me until I felt fine and fell asleep."

She gazed at the boy, thinking of Athrun. A small smile touched at her lips, and she scarcely heard the puppy near the shore, the sea and wind, or even Ko explaining in a very flustered voice that he was only afraid of the dark when he had been much, much younger.

She thought only of how Athrun must have held the boy, watching over the child as he'd fallen asleep, letting the boy sob his fears away. All of that had been what Athrun had given her once. She'd thrown it away.

That night, Cagalli found that sleep did not come easy. Tossing and turning in her own room, she bit her lips, then gave up. Morning was almost here anyway.

So she got up, washed up, got dressed, and made her way to the stone tower. As she did, the light of the skies began to seep in, warm and golden, and she thought of Lacus' child. The child must have been born by now. She was sure of that. The birth was something she'd always been worried about, something she'd kept at the back of her mind. Even now, Cagalli tried to focus on the present.

Ironically enough, the thoughts of what she was doing drew a complete circle for her thoughts. There had been the birth of her nephew or niece, and the birth she would never witness. But Cagalli knew she could at least celebrate the birth of another.

With that, she straightened, facing what she'd spread out.

Even in the past, Cagalli had never given a present to Athrun on his birthday. Nor had he for hers. Both had never considered doing that, because the idea of exchanging a gift would have made them both feel awkward. Nor had it been convenient, since she'd have to find a way to sneak him a present despite him being a bodyguard and nothing more than that.

But now, Cagalli smiled to herself, knowing that she'd be able to give him something. The canvas hung on the wall, and she studied it, wondering it if was a little too small or a little too big. She tilted her head, sketching a little more, and when she was ready, she stretched it out to have a final look at the outlines she'd laid there.

The slopes of the trees they'd seen together would be brushed with a pale yellow first, Cagalli decided. Then hints of blue would creep in as the juxtaposition of both colours created a hue of green that plain green alone would never provide.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the little teasing touches of the wind dancing on her skin and the sound of the distant sea. Her mind was filled with the images of the hills that he'd shown her, and Cagalli could still remember the crunch of leaves beneath their soles and the way he'd walked forward, her eyes trained on his back.

Her lips parting a little, Cagalli strained to remember more. But as she fleshed out the colours she wanted in her head, she heard a sound, and immediately, she spun around, pulling the canvas off and rolling it up quickly.

"You're back!" Her voice was alarmed.

As Athrun took one step into the tower, she rushed to block him from entering, trying to hug him except he retreated just as quickly, clearly unwilling to get the paint on her apron on his clothes.

"Why didn't you tell me when you left?" Cagalli chided him, pulling Athrun by his elbow out of the tower and down the steps. He laughed, allowing himself to be tugged along, and while he peered back curiously to see what she'd been sketching to prepare for painting, he could not see from that angle.

Knowing Cagalli however, she would never want to let someone see something unfinished until she was sure it was presentable. So he went along with it, smiling at her.

Hiding her nervousness, Cagalli began leading him down the corridor to Ko's room. If he wasn't there, she thought quickly, they'd find him in the hall. Either way, they had to make sure that Athrun did not go where he was not supposed to be.

She forced a slightly artificial note of joviality into her voice and smiled at him. "Let's go swimming with Ko. Come on, let's go find him!"

"Hmm." Athrun said non-committally. With a twinkle in his eye and a swing of her hand, she found herself behind him now.

He was suddenly the one leading her forward, and with a small gasp, she found herself being pulled into a separate corridor.

"Hey!" Cagalli protested. "That's not the way to Ko's-,"

"Who said I wanted to go there?" Athrun said, grinning. She looked around the corridor, noticing some familiar paintings and her breath hitched in her throat.

"What do you want?" She said breathlessly, her feet still being made to follow quickly. "You just got back! Don't you want to go to the seaside and-,"

"No." He said firmly. "I don't want salt, sand and sea."

"Then what do you want to do?" Cagalli asked helplessly, hoping that the twins had not gone into Athrun's room to plan what they'd set in there. Hopefully, they were in the kitchen- all of them.

"What do you think?" He said in a sultry whisper, his breath warming her ear as he pulled her close before pushing her into the room.

As he pushed her into his room, his back turned to her momentarily as he locked the door, she felt her heart leap to her throat. Athrun had clearly just come home from wherever he'd been, and he was still in his coat and gloves. The place he had been had probably been cold too, she thought distractedly for a second, but then Athrun turned back to her and pulled off his scarf.

In an instant, he'd pushed her to the wall, pressing her against it. She felt his mouth against hers, his weight something she'd become used to feeling next to hers. Eagerly, Cagalli wound her arms around his neck, glad that he was home, glad that he was equally happy to be back.

"Silly," She whispered smilingly, when they broke the kiss for air. "You thought I'd run away while you were gone?"

"You do know where the sea is now." Athrun said wryly, beginning to locate the knots of the apron she was wearing because she had been painting. "I wouldn't be surprised if you found a way out and made a boat to escape."

"I'm not so reckless," Cagalli protested breathlessly, trying to push his hands away as he chuckled and tickled her a little. Ever since he'd realised that she was ticklish, Athrun had taken great pleasure in making her laugh until tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. "And I promised to stay until you ask me to leave, right? I trust you, so I will stay."

He looked at her intently. "I hold you to your word, of course. But you're a very unpredictable person, and I really wouldn't be surprised if you surprised me." He smirked a little. "If that makes sense."

Cagalli chuckled, letting him kiss her neck and bite a little as she eased him out of his coat. He tried to stop her, but she did it, and Athrun's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" She said mischievously. "I'm trying to get cosy. If you won't touch me, that's your problem. But I'll do whatever I like with you."

He took a step back, his eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hairline. His smirk was amused. "You know, when I took off your apron, I wasn't planning to do anything like that. I was only trying to avoid getting the paint on my clothes."

Sneaking a look on the apron he'd crumpled to the floor, Cagalli blushed a little, losing a little of her boldness. But then she shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I think I'd like to take a bath anyway. You might as well join me." She winked at him. "I'll scrub your back today."

He fought back a laugh for a second, then gave up and chuckled, grinning back at her. She looked at him, thinking that it was a relief he was willing to go along with this.

In the stone tower, she'd been painting what she was planning to present to him for his birthday, and in the kitchen, the twins and Epstein were planning what to prepare for that same purpose. Ko was making his gift in the training hall, and a decoy had been set in the room- a bolster that looked almost like the boy with the blankets thrown over it. For now, Cagalli thought teasingly, she would have to distract Athrun.

In her simple singlet and shorts, most of her arms and legs were bared for convenience's sake, and Athrun's gloved hands running across those evoked tingling sensations as the rough wool with the warmth of his fingers beneath the material stroked at her hands.

Pulling him closer to her to kiss him once more, she ran her hands through his hair, murmuring that she'd missed him. While he did not seem to hear her, his kisses became more demanding.

There was a kind of frustration in Athrun that she sensed. Of course, it had always been there because of the lack of complete fulfilment for either of them, but today, he seemed to be especially rattled about something.

As she led him and pinned him to the bed, sitting above him and unbuttoning his shirt to run her hands against his shoulders and chest, Cagalli wondered if her gentle touches were possibly making him even more flustered.

He was shifting against her and he would not let her hold the kiss to his lips, moving away and trying to gather her into his arms even when she wanted to do more than lie next to him for now. He would surely want to leave and check on the aides or Ko if she allowed him to get the least bit satisfied or even bored with floating around and talking in the bathtub, and Cagalli had to keep to the plans all of them had made. And so, she writhed against him while he kissed her, tempting him, but refusing to let him pull her singlet over her head.

"Hey, aren't we supposed to be in the bathroom?" Athrun said, his eyebrows raised as she wrestled with him for his shirt. Fighting her off with a smirk, he took the opportunity to pin her down now and ran his mouth to her collarbone. The exercise had made her scent stronger, and he could feel her pant against him quietly. "Not wrestling like this. Are you going to let me see you or not?"

"That's in the bathroom," She pointed out. "When we have to be undressed anyway."

"Then let's go now." He looked at her amusedly.

"We might as well stay here for a bit," Cagalli said faintly, thinking that it would buy the aides more time to plan. If Epstein came to find her in the stone tower, he would realise that she'd flung aside the canvas and pick up on Athrun's sooner than expected return in time.

He began to argue. "But you won't let me take that off y-,"

"It's on the way to the bathroom anyway." She chuckled and reached to the border of his shirt and tugged it open completely, pulling it off now as he lifted her to sit up and felt her slide her cheek against his chest.

Murmuring her name, he scooped her up and without waiting to here her further protests, carried her to the bathroom. He stopped only to kick the door open, and nodding at how the bath had already been drawn, he deposited her in it.

As she stood up in the bath, sopping wet and complaining about his rough handling, Athrun laughed, taking more care with his clothes as he undressed and then joined her.

"Couldn't you have waited for me to undress too?" Cagalli demanded, raising her arms as Athrun peeled the wet cloth off her torso, shivering a little because of the water evaporating on her skin.

He shook his head, grinning. "I did. I am a patient person, you know."

"Like hell you are," Cagalli teased, grabbing the soap and lathering her hands before she began washing at his shoulders. "You took all of five minutes to get me in here."

He chuckled, running his hands brazenly against her back and then trailing them to her waist and lower. "Isn't that proof of my patience? A man with less control would take about two minutes."

She snorted. "Enough of that tomfoolery. Turn behind so I can-,"

Athrun cut her off, kissing her possessively. She struggled for a moment, then relaxed into his arms as he found the soap in her hand and took it, lobbing it aside, his mouth still seeking hers hungrily.

Her hands around his neck were sliding, slippery and moist against his shoulders now. Cagalli could feel his palms cup her chest, and achingly, she pressed herself to him, wanting to tell him something she could not quite find the words to. Even when they spoke in the water later, and continued their conversation as they laid side by side in his bed, they spoke of the things that did not matter. She found herself unable to tell him what meant the most.

She never did that night- not even when he turned to her and told her that he'd be going off again, and would only return in three days' time.

* * *

The next day, they began their preparations.

Before he'd fallen asleep last night, Athrun had told her that he'd be away for three days, and Cagalli was quite sure that he would not return before that. So now, the air hung thick and heavy with smells and scents, and they were all hard at work. Hopefully, she thought with a grin, Athrun would not arrive too soon. The surprise had to be a success.

"More salt," Epstein ordered. He pointed to the broth that Laplacia was stirring. "I think that one's a bit bland."

She laughed, grabbing the ingredients she needed to correct that.

Cartesia deftly kneaded some flour for rolls, and she called over to them, "Is the oven ready now?"

The kitchen was filled with sounds and glorious wafts of sugary scents, and the perfume of the pervasive smells hung heavy and welcoming. They were hard at work, and in the past hour, they'd already completed the decorations.

Laplacia had picked flowers, Cartesia had readied the table, and Cagalli had served the food that Epstein had prepared. All those were with covers in preparation of the next day's celebration, and Cagalli was eager to see how it would look as a spread on the table.

Meanwhile, the twins and Ko were baking a cake, and Epstein was trying to ensure that Pepita did not get in the way. Cagalli watched with amusement, beating some eggs with vigour, and she called to them, "Does anyone have vanilla essence?"

Ko ran to her, holding some, and she grinned her thanks and let him drip some in. The flurry of activity was very pleasing to her, and Cagalli understood that the aides and Ko were approaching the surprise with great enthusiasm. Laplacia called for help at the other end, and eagerly, Ko scampered towards her.

"Will he like what we're doing?" Cartesia said suddenly. Her eyes widened fearfully. "I'm not sure if…" She trailed off, looking downcast suddenly. "What if Miss Cagalli is wrong about how he'll like us celebrating like this?"

Epstein shook his head, assuring them all as he closed the door, effectively barring Pepita outside. "He will, trust me. Even if we've never done this before, I think we've got good reason to do so this year." He grinned, looking at Cagalli, who was distracted and therefore did not notice what he'd just said.

In the meantime, Cagalli looked around, furrowing her brow a little. "Ko? Can you get me the flour?"

"Here!" the boy piped up, already near her waist as he held up more flour. She grinned and squatted down to him, wiping a dab of white off his cheek with the apron she'd borrowed. "What are you going to give him this year?"

Ko's smile split from one shell-like ear to the other. "A collage made out of dried flowers and leaves!" His face shone with his joy but it suddenly dimmed a little. "I'm not sure if it will fit in his study though. I'm not allowed in there, and I don't know if it's too big or too small for the wall. I used the training hall to gauge."

Gazing at his concerned little face, Cagalli had to laugh. She ruffled his hair affectionately, kissing his forehead. "Don't worry- we'll get Epstein to check okay?"

Listening to this, Epstein wondered if Cagalli realised what he was planning.

She was bustling about, mixing the cake batter and he grinned, thinking that the apron suited her marvellously. There was cosiness to the atmosphere, and the sounds of the semi-conversations springing up between them peppered the place with sound.

Ko took over the mixing while Cagalli went to check the oven. Calling over to him, he then hurried to her while she fetched the baking tin.

"Is a round shape or rectangular one better?" She wondered.

"Round!" Ko said with great conviction, while the twins called, "Rectangular!" from the other end. Cagalli began to laugh, holding up both shapes while Ko tried to convince the girls that the round one would be easier to divide into six.

"I don't see the logic," Cartesia argued. "You, me, Lacy, Miss Cagalli, Mr. Estragon, Epstein," she looked at Laplacia who nodded. "That's six! It's not an odd number!"

"But that's the point! Whether odd numbered or even numbered, a circle can be cut into as many pieces as you need!" Ko insisted.

"Cagalli," Epstein spoke up and entered their conversation suddenly, "Would you like to go to his study to help me?"

She looked up from in surprise as Epstein came towards them. "What for? And I'm allowed to do that?"

"I heard you say you were trying to measure something too." He alluded to the conversation she and Ko had shared.

"I can go in?" Her eyes revealed her doubt.

"Fine, fine." He conceded with a dimple appearing in his cheek. "I'll bring you to his study if you promise not to meddle with his things. Just have a look around and maybe-," He paused, "You'll find inspiration for a gift too."

"Of course," She assured him hastily. She thought of the completed painting that lacked a frame. It was only half-assembled because she hadn't had time to assemble all the twigs she'd collected so far, but Cagalli knew she could finish it in time and fit it in nicely if she got a look around at the study. "I promise not to touch anything. I only want to take a peek to get- you know, a general feel of what he likes and where he'd probably put the painting. I would be horrified if he didn't like the present I was planning for him."

He grinned at her. "Anything you give him, he'll cherish. He's that sort of person."

She looked at him with a slight pensiveness he noticed. "I hope so."

Ten minutes later, they were sneaking into Athrun's study, unlocking it with the keys Epstein produced from his pocket. Apparently, those weren't enough, for he was using his handprint to get in too. She watched as he pressed his palm carefully to a corner of the door, the exact corner that seemed to be exactly like any bit of the aged wood. As the door unlocked, he pushed it open and she traipsed in after him.

While Epstein seemed familiar with this place, she certainly was not.

Fighting back a gasp, Cagalli whirled around, looking at all the tall bookshelves and all the neatly-stacked files. The table was massive, nearly obscured by stacks of more files and papers, but she knew not to look at those.

"I understand." Cagalli told him, turning back and then focusing on the rest of the place. While airy and very well-kept, the place was distinctively aged and she suspected Athrun did not bother to repaint the walls or to upgrade it.

It remained this way, a queer juxtaposition of the old and new, and she could imagine Athrun sitting here, working. Unlike the room he had given her access to, this place seemed to have had a person living in it.

"This room has been used for a long time, hasn't it?" She whispered to herself. She told herself that this was where she would find what he was really like- what he could really be like.

"Of course," Epstein agreed. "But it wasn't anyone's fault that this place became so rundown. It was just over time."

Cagalli smiled warmly. "I think I understand. My study-," Her eyes crinkled as she lowered her head, chuckling, "Often got into a mess too. A mess I was suppose to prevent or manage."

Epstein smiled a little, beginning to walk towards the furthest bookshelves at the end of Athrun's study. While his back was turned, Cagalli quickly took some files from the shelves, peering at their labels and flipping to their insides. Despite her promise not to touch anything, Cagalli was too curious, and she suspected that Epstein would not mind too much even if he found out.

But she could find nothing she understood in that file she had grabbed.

As Athrun had said, those were filled with rows of figures after figures that she simply had no clue about, save for the neat labels that still only provided her guesses at best. And even then, the labels were in code and her guesses were vague. From what she could guess, they were figures of businesses.

She bit her lip, remembering the things Athrun gave to his aides and her each time he returned. Surely, he had been out of the Isle. Were these businesses situated outside the Isle, and were they the main reasons why he was always off somewhere?

Yet, Epstein chose that moment to turn around, and hastily she shoved it back and faced him with red cheeks. He clucked his tongue at her as she lowered her head guiltily, and then he said, "I'll pretend I didn't see that. Now, tell me what you're looking for so you can get a good gauge of what to give him, and I'll try and help you find it. Of course-," He added, "He'll like anything you give."

"I don't know that really," Cagalli admitted. "I want to understand him as a person beyond the fact that I want to give him a gift. But I don't know where to start, and he never really tells me what I mean to him either."

He paused, and she thought she saw him go still. That moment passed quickly, and he turned. "Well, I have some photo albums you might want to take a look at. Stay here a bit and I'll fetch them. They're all the way at the back of this room. You can look at these in the meantime." Epstein reached somewhere and took out a photo album that had been hidden by the stacks of files Cagalli would not have thought of peering behind. As she crept behind Athrun's seat and occupied it, Cagalli began to flip.

There were pictures of a much younger Epstein was grinning from those, one with him in the garden, hugging a gigantic black dog that Cagalli had never seen before. It resembled a bear. As she gazed at that particular photograph, she spotted the marmalade cat sulking at the back. There were also pictures of the twins as very young children, the two at a window and holding a private conversation with only their eyes as one of them, possibly Cartesia, was attempting to climb a chair with a cleaning cloth in her hand.

There were no photographs of himself with them, but it seemed Athrun was somewhat of a secret shutterbug.

"Pity I can't get him a new camera." She remarked, glancing around. Epstein was already some distance away, although he turned to look when she spoke.

Epstein, knowing how these photographs were taken as opposed to the usual ones from the cameras that were installed in the house, kept silent, but smiled a little.

From what Cagalli could see however, the pictures seemed to have been taken without the subjects' notice. The naturalness and spontaneity in the angles made Cagalli sure he had viewed them with love to have even wanted to freeze those moments of his wards.

"I suppose he gave up trying not to love you and the twins." Cagalli said boldly.

Epstein's eyes softened, but he said nothing, resuming his steps towards the shelve furthest along the room.

And it was certainly a massive room. Epstein was busy trying to fetch some other albums Athrun must have concealed in this place, and in the mean time, she flipped through.

But then there was a sound and Cagalli whirled around.

"Oh!" She heard Epstein cry out, and immediately, Cagalli stood up. Poking her head next to the bookshelf she was at, Cagalli saw Epstein clutching his foot.

He had, quite comically, stubbed his toe against something. And laughing helplessly, Cagalli hurried over to him, getting him to sit down on a nearby stool.

"Ugh." Cagalli said cheerfully, coming towards him. "Don't you hate it when that happens? But you're wearing thick boots- shouldn't hurt too much."

He cracked one eye open and winced. "Darn that crack."

She turned slightly, casting her eye on a small worn away corner of the wooden floorboard. "Now how did that happen?"

"I wanted to avoid stepping on that," He told her glibly, "So I tripped and stubbed myself. It's the boot that hurt me, Cagalli. I stubbed my toe against the inside."

She looked at him in amusement, hiding her laughter behind her hand. "Oh dear, Epstein. Do you want me to take it off and check if you've broken your toenail?"

He demurred immediately, looking quite apprehensive. Perhaps, Cagalli thought with a giggle, he was wearing ugly socks he did not want to show. "Uh- no. No, it's fine, thanks. I'm going to head out of here for a bit and change my shoes- I'll be back soon."

He got up hastily and half tripped, half ran towards the entrance. Cagalli watched him for a second, puzzled at how clumsy he was being, but began to laugh again. There was that light-heartedness that she had enjoyed unconsciously with him, and he seemed to be a younger brother more than ever.

As she stood up, she turned to the corner, where he must have been almost childishly careless. But as she did, she knelt and examined the slight crack in the large wooden floorboards he must have tripped over for some reason. The mental image of him having ended up kicking himself with a bit of the wall's help was so hilarious that she ended up laughing all over again.

Soon, without him around, Cagalli began to get bored. She sat down, cross-legged, examining the crack. It was big enough for both hands to fit in, particularly since she had small hands.

Curiously, she tugged at the edges of the crack with some force, testing if the board was still safe. Had Epstein felt it moving under him and ended up tripping in his instinctive bid to go somewhere safer?

It was firmly stuck, so she tried a little more force. And without meaning too, the entire board lifted away in her hands and she yelped in shock and horror.

Staring at the large but rather thin block of wood in her hands, Cagalli cried, "Epstein!"

He was going to kill her, she thought in panic. He had briefed her on the need to be careful in here, on the need to leave no trace of their presence behind. But here she had gone and uprooted part of the floor!

Flustered, she stood up, meaning to go and get him, find some way of super-gluing the board back with her blood if she had to before Athrun found that she had been around here messing with his things. He would probably grill her about exposing some room underneath this floor, with that particular brand of sarcasm she loathed when he used it on her.

But as Cagalli stood up, she saw that the floor had not merely given way with that particular section. Rather, it was hollow. Or to be exact, there was a passageway, dimly-lit, but clear enough for the winding steps below to be obvious.

"Epstein?" She called again, swivelling to try and spot him. There was no reply.

She turned, hesitating. He had probably been looking for slippers somewhere else, and only she was here in this place.

Yet, behind the bookshelves, a few metres away, Epstein watched her peer down the trapdoor. It had been inevitable, he told himself, that she would have learnt of everything. He was merely making it sooner rather than later. He was not betraying Athrun.

Nor this was any time to be indecisive, so Epstein walked away, quite normally and without any need to pretend anymore. He made sure she would not spot him as he left silently, but he knew that with what she had discovered, there was no way she would not go down there now.

"Epstein?" Cagalli said cautiously, trying not to stare into the impending darkness, as if she were guilty of harbouring thoughts of cavorting down there. At that point, she was still sure he would come to her because she had called for him.

But he did not. Nobody came.

She turned her head back, her eyes searching for him. And Cagalli was ready with an excuse for having opening this panel that apparently, lead to nowhere except down the dark abysses of… well, hell.

Epstein had vanished.

"Is anyone there?" She tried again, aware that her voice was a squeak. And muttering to herself, she took a look around, saw nobody watching her, least of all Epstein, who must have left to get something or the other. And feeling like an apprehended criminal already, Cagalli took one sly foot forward, her toes pointed in a tip-toe position.

"Epstein," She turned behind and tried again, and her voice echoed strangely. It was cold down here, she thought balefully, rubbing her arms. And then she took another two steps down, looking up at the hole she had moved into.

While she wore only a thin white cotton shift, she had found and borrowed one of Athrun's coal-coloured cardigans that certainly served her well. Because of their difference in height and frame, it looked rather like a trench coat from the back, but when she wound it closer around her, she felt even snugger.

"Epstein, are you there?" She looked back, calling for him again as she tried again.

When nobody answered, Cagalli couldn't resist moving down warily, step by step, half praying that Epstein would suddenly pop up, half praying that he busy with whatever he had gotten distracted by.

As Cagalli moved down, the darkness seemed to consume her, and she blinked, a bit afraid that it would be cold and damp, like a dungeon feature in this massive house or something used to breed spiders and whatnot. Instead, the rail she was using felt clean, and the air was certainly not musty. This was definitely not a cellar or a lock-up place for some forgotten skeleton.

Or was it?

She laughed nervously, watching her step.

While she trod cautiously, Cagalli was aware that her feet were now sinking into soft carpets. She bent down and peered dimly, running her hand across the surface. It wasn't grass, as she had half-suspected, or even moss, but a carpet alright. Someone had furnished this place.

Then with her next step, an automatic switch lighted up the place, and Cagalli looked up, blinded for a second by the light, but adjusting quickly because it was of a warm, orange glow that illuminated the sepia room.

There was something familiar about the arrangement of things, and with surprise, she realised that it resembled Athrun's room- their room, as it had become.

But more than that, there were other things that were far more familiar than the mere arrangement of the tables, book shelves and chair.

She gasped, unable to keep the sound from escaping her even when she stuffed her hand to her mouth.

Cagalli stood there, still one step away from reaching the room's level. Had Athrun kept all his things here? Were those things in the upper level of his study just a cover for the things that lay beneath them?

Moving around, although it felt like she was being turned on a mantle as the pictures witnessed her trespass, Cagalli looked at the room that had existed within Athrun's study. There were portraits of people he'd known and loved. These were all pictures of people he'd met years ago.

She could see Kira's boyish face, the two friends with their arms linked. Someone else had taken that photograph, and they'd been prepared for it. There was a picture of Athrun and some other redcoats she recognised, at their graduation ceremony. There was even one of Athrun as a child, holding a scrambling, furiously licking puppy up in his arms.

But others- surely he had taken those.

There was a photograph of a much younger Lacus with strangely enough, hair in girlish pigtails. Her expression was troubled as she sat in a rose garden, a tea cup resting in her hands and her eyes trained on something in the distance. Athrun had caught her thinking of things the world never supposed she would never even have to consider in her privileged life.

There was a portrait of his mother, who had fallen asleep before a fire, a book in her hands and the clock behind her hinting of how long she'd waited for someone to return.

There was one of Patrick Zala, his face half hidden behind the men and women flocking around him, flashbulbs everywhere, the picture-taker one of them. His own son was amongst those who could only view him as Plant's chairman. There were others of Athrun's father too- but none that showed more relaxed moments or of them being together.

Cagalli could not help but stare openly at the faces that regarded her, some smiling, some laughing, some in serious countenance, and amongst all the pictures, at the portrait of a seventeen year old.

It was herself, staring into the camera with something almost like baleful hauteur in the young face, but only because a less discerning eye would not have recognised the slight insecurity and shyness in her eyes. There was something magnetic about the smile, something immutable and innocent that betrayed the sophistication her gown and her posture was beginning to achieve.

Like so many of his subjects, Athrun had taken this photograph of her without her even knowing it. She had looked at him without thinking of him as Athrun, but another person in the crowd before her. And yet, she had looked straight at him, and he had caught something that no other photographer in the crowd would have thought of capturing.

Feeling slightly guilty for coming in but quite fascinated by this room she had found within the room, Cagalli explored nevertheless. It was an oval shaped room that saved any confusion of having doors by having had only one entrance- the one she had entered from. But there were other doors leading from this room, and she peeked into one, and then sidled in.

In this compartment of the room, there was nothing but files. What was it with Athrun and his fastidious filing? She would have to get him more files and bookshelves for a gift, Cagalli thought amusedly to herself.

Now, she began tiptoeing to gaze at the files that were neatly stored and tagged. Like his study, this room was neat, and she giggled privately, meaning to tease him on his studied obsessive, compulsive disorder when it came to books and things like that.

The glass cases gleamed at her, and she stared, blinking at how many files there were in there. There must have been some code to them, she mused to herself, for this basement and even this storeroom within the basement was no different than his study. Athrun would have certainly been an outstanding librarian- or nanny, she thought with a laugh.

Was this another private room of his? Some kind of storage area? But the latter was impossible- it was too well-maintained and too clearly used to be a place where things were merely stored.

And with some growing realisation, Cagalli noticed that even this storeroom looked nothing like his study. There was a more personal touch in this hidden room, in a place that was already hidden from the main study. This storeroom bore signs of even more frequent usage.

There was a cushion on the chair, ruby hangings that gave the room warmth, and even a slight untidiness on the table with the pen and papers scattered all over it, as if someone had just been in here and had worked there.

Some books were lying on the table, as if that person had left before putting them back on the shelf or standing them up properly. And amazed, she stared at the books and recognised those as books she had once seen him carry in boxes when he had come to live in the Atha Estate as Alex Dino.

Compelled to look at more, she moved about the rather spacious storeroom, glad she had taken off her shoes. Because the place was carpeted and she had felt the urge to feel the rich furs against her skin, she had pulled off her shoes and left them on the last step of the staircase. And Cagalli began to explore.

As she did, she told herself helplessly that it was wrong to pry, but her curiosity had been certainly whetted by then.

"All I'm doing," Cagalli tried to reassure herself, "Is just finding out what he really thinks and what he would like to have for a gift."

She should have stopped there, but she had already gone too far. The next bundle of letters she opened confirmed her doubts. She found letters Patrick Zala had written to Athrun's mother. While his mother had written delightfully detailed descriptions of Athrun learning to read and write with things she deemed the milestones, Patrick Zala's letters had been briefer and distinctively more business-like.

Cagalli opened them up, feeling like a convict for prying into his past. But she could not shake away the awful feeling that her present and his past were too connected for her to pass up this one chance to understand. Moreover, Cagalli had found a pathway into Athrun's mind.

How could she give up on that now?

And so, she continued to read Patrick Zala's letters.

Often, they were almost inquiries to check about their well-being, inquiries on whether Lenore needed more to run the household, whether their neighbours had children who 'are the sort my son doesn't need to mix around with."

And in yet another pile, a much thicker pile than the other one, there were letters his father had addressed to the mother. Those had been returned time and again to the fifteen-year old Athrun in his recruit-camp, when the postman had failed to reach the destroyed Junius Seven. The dual stamps of 'delivered to alternative message' haunted her as she turned the envelopes over in her hands, wondering if he had been just as haunted.

She bit her lip, trying to understand how Athrun must have felt upon receiving letters his mad father was sending to his dead wife.

In the second drawer Cagalli decided to open, she found no letters but a single, worn diary that had only withstood the years because of its superior binding quality. Hadn't Athrun spoken of his diary before? Hadn't he looked so hesistant each time he'd told her of his relationship with his father?

Her heart throbbing in her throat, she opened it and saw immediately that it had belonged to Athrun's father. He'd told her of his father going mad, and curiosity piqued, she decided to look through it.

In it were schedules, thoughts and little reminders- a schedule-planner, really. But the dates printed in it told her that there had been a year in which nothing had been written.

Was it likely that Athrun's father would not have meticulously planned his days for a whole year? And eagerly, she flipped on, but found nothing except blank pages. It looked as if he had lost this diary and started another.

Yet, as Cagalli turned page after page, the writing began once more. And with shock, Cagalli read the sudden prose that had seemed to explode from a tip of an unsteady hand-held pen.

The writing was still in short-hand, hastily scribbled and not as neat as she would have expected Patrick Zala to be. But if he had seemed too busy to write slowly and carefully because of his busy schedule, the thoughts were now random with no structure whatsoever.

And with a mounting fear that blossomed in her, Cagalli saw that he had written out plans to meet Lenore for lunch, plans to take her to visit Aprilius, where they had met in her university. Biting back her gasp and knowing that her pulse was racing, Cagalli flipped to the back and stared at the year's worth of empty, unwritten days.

Beyond that were the plans of Genesis.

Rough little points, random and dropped like burnt moths from lethal lamps, but fleshed out as the pages went by- into the reality that Cagalli sometimes had nightmares about still. And beyond those, there was so much more! Patrick Zala had long made plans to restart Genesis, and with growing horror, Cagalli understood the supplementary plan.

"_My son will be the trigger. If my tactics of force will not work for Genesis, he has even more ability than me in persuading others to follow what we both believe in. He has been trained well. He will be my voice and my hand. Nobody can change his mind or his conviction. It is enough that he lives for me even when I die."_

She read silently, her pulse throbbing as if she had been poisoned and her heart was weakening. Cagalli flipped furiously, as if her life depended on it, which was probably true.

There, his name again. Athrun. And again. And there again. Athrun. And there! There was her father's name!

She began to read the thoughts in earnest, trying to understand. While fragmented, there was a certain bull-headed, almost single-minded clarity in their intent.

What had she really understood of Athrun and Patrick Zala? If she had thought she understood, Cagalli knew she'd been fooled by Athrun. All he had revealed was very little, really, not even when Athrun had told her what he thought at times. That was all linked to the way he'd hidden so many things about her being here, particularly the exact reasons as to why he'd brought her here. But now she understood.

Fighting back her anguish, she tried to remain steady.

Where the Genesis was concerned, all Cagalli could think of was how a plan had failed and how a kind of a catastrophe had been avoided. She'd never quite realised that Patrick Zala had been counting on his son as part of those plans right from the very start. She'd never quite realised that her presence by his son's side had prevented the outcome that Patrick Zala had spent a great deal of his years working towards.

But now, Cagalli understood what she was here on the Isle was here for. It didn't matter who lived on it or what Athrun was doing here- all that mattered was that she was put here for him to use her as a pawn in the way his father had planned for her own father.

The difference was that Athrun Zala could sense she was emotionally attracted to him and had found ways of becoming closer to her, going as far as to ease a promise that she'd stay from her own lips. He'd effectually carried out his father's plans for Genesis, even if in a slightly different fashion as to what Patrick Zala must have expected.

He'd made use of her. He'd realised, after a while, that it was easier to make her stay because what was making her so desperate to leave was that she still loved him. He'd convinced her to accept that attraction, he'd created a situation where she'd tried to use him while knowing that she'd certainly fail. And in doing so, he'd made her promise to stay because that was part of what he wanted to achieve- his father's plans.

Cagalli stared at the plans, sinking to the floor as if she had been sapped of all energy. At the back of her mind, she was wondering how the brilliant mind had produced such fragmented work which was nonetheless brilliant in itself. The signs had been clear all this while, but the diary proved it.

When Patrick Zala had began to include Lenore Zala in his diary schedule, along with the plans to secure Genesis and to groom his son should Genesis fail, Lenore had already been dead for more than a year.

Her head was filled with his voice, even though she had only heard once in person when Patrick Zala had lay dying. He had been still so sure of his hatred then, that he had died while begging his son to trigger the Genesis.

The expression of hope within the hopelessness as he had looked at his son with his eyes, glaring upwards into constant and permanent blindness, swam in her head. He had never forgiven Athrun for betraying him and his plans for his son.

Hadn't Athrun admitted how guilty he felt to Cagalli about this? Hadn't Cagalli seen how he'd been quiet even after they'd abandoned his father and left his body there too?

She thought of how Athrun had kissed her just hours ago, how passionately he could seek her and make every fibre in her seem to wilt or live for him. He could make her agitated with a single word, make her smile with his silence, arouse her with a mere flick of his eyes to her face, make her laugh with his own laugh, make her believe he wanted to understand her and not let her think she was a mere conquest the way so many others had viewed her-

But those were lies.

Gaining momentum now, Cagalli looked around, staring at all the files neatly arranged in shelves now. She pulled out file after file, flipping and flipping, reading the clipped sentences, comprehending at first, then more and more certain.

"I'm supposed to trust him," She told herself desperately. "But how do I?"

Each austere black file looked no different from the rest, the label was plain and without a single number. Yet, it wasn't alphabetically arranged- as if someone had pulled it out, checked something in it, and had been called away before he could put it back properly. Naturally, it was more than enough to make her pull it out and flip through it.

But as she opened the next one, not meaning to do more than flip through it, her eyes widened. The information in the first page was enough to set her heart racing, and frantically, Cagalli flipped to the next page and the next.

And as she came to a particular page, she cried out, as if blinded, and involuntarily dropped the file.

It fell to the floor, spilling photographs and sheets of paper everywhere. Amongst those were pictures of her in a dress she only recalled wearing once- a few years ago. And there were all the other pictures of her after the Second War, pictures of her at meetings, at various functions, even the glimpses of her face through the car window as she had driven into her house. A camera had snapped all of this. She had been followed and trailed by him.

The records were precise and detailed. Those even noted what kind of weapons she carried around, as if someone had known that on a particular Saturday afternoon, Cagalli Yula Atha had slipped pepper spray into her bag for protection when she'd gone out to meet some friends.

On another day, someone had known that she had been due to send her car for annual maintenance. Here, the exact time and place had been recorded. The person who'd written this down had planned where she'd be and known her habits, and even how her car's doors locks could be switched.

The records went on and on- day after day, week after week. Those had started since four years ago. The betrayal was more than she could bear, and she began to tremble. Why hadn't she been told by anyone? And how could Athrun not have told her of this when it had meant so much to her?

There were letters within these records. Letters from Greyfriars- who was that? Letters with instructions that had been copied out in Athrun's own neat, disciplined hand.

Instructions for Cagalli Yula Atha to be killed in Orb.

Athrun had been watching her even beyond her knowledge, and he had been involved with the incidents she'd mistaken as being entirely coincidental and harmless.

Now, she grabbed another file. Inside it was not information she had expected to find about Athrun, but information about his father. Why would everything correspond so perfectly if it wasn't linked in the first place?

With doubt growing as a cancerous spread of pain and fear in her, Cagalli felt a warm tear fall from her cheek. "What a fool I've been." She said brokenly to herself.

Everything that Patrick Zala had been planning was written inside here, and remembering the diary she had only briefly looked through and the letters she had mostly ignored, she snatched them over now and began to read them simultaneously.

The photographs around her glimmered in the light, reflecting her face with their glossiness. A ten year old Kira was waving at the camera, Athrun's arm around his shoulder and vice versa. Pictures of redcoats graduating, Athrun's smiling face amongst them, and a portrait of Athrun's parents caught her eye. She whirled around, trying to understand, trying to accept that he had a room within his room, beyond her.

Frantically now, she moved to drawers of letters she had first opened in this room. She had not opened the last drawer yet.

And with a force that came from her shock, Cagalli tugged open drawer after drawer, pulling out envelopes of clipped out articles. All were connected to her in some way or the other. Kira's correspondence, Lacus' well-wishes. Everything was chronicled. Mana, then Kisaka's retirement, even Aaron's new promotion.

Everything was connecting. With shock, she saw everything was _there_- his actions concerning her, how she had been persuaded to trust him, and even the records of what he had achieved all these years.

The materials lay in a circle around her, although there was nothing protective about its circumference. On one side, there was the diary he'd annotated and developed into full-fledged plans her presence here on the Isle was supporting. Creating a war between Naturals and Coordinators wasn't difficult, as Patrick Zala had realised a long time ago.

All one had to do was spread suspicion between Orb and the Earth Alliance, and once they attacked each other, Plant could take both down quite easily. Patrick Zala had created a massive weapon for the sake of coercion, but at the same time, he'd created another weapon that was more lethal because it was more insidious and malleable, more persuasive and compelling to others- his son.

The plans Patrick Zala had for his son spoke not of fatherly love or pride, but of ambition and hatred. The diary was clear in representing that, for each mention of Athrun's achievements and the plans Patrick Zala had harboured to make his son the pilot of the Freedom was explicitly tied to the Genesis.

All this while, Athrun had been compelling her to stay, reminding her of the memories she'd locked away for so long. And for what? Who knew what really lay beyond the Isle, and who knew what would happen when Orb decided that six months had passed and it was going to war no matter what?

Cagalli looked at the other set of letters chronicling the attempts made on her life, along with the files Athrun had compiled of her daily habits and with information that could show a way to strike at her weakness. If Patrick Zala had been aware that her father's assassination would start Genesis as effectively as triggering the weapon would, then Athrun Zala had taken over his father's wishes.

All this time, Cagalli thought wildly, he hadn't told her of why he felt guilty when he thought of his father at times. He had actually been hinting at her role in this, and she'd never quite grasped the true meaning of it until today.

This was no private room of his, she thought in dread. This was more than a private room- this was a room he planned in- a room he kept his information and resources in. Information he'd used against her. Crying out, Cagalli stumbled out of the storeroom, still holding some files and the letters she'd pulled out.

As she tripped, the things went flying across the floor and carpet. As she looked up, panting, the faces in the pictures seemed to mock her- even her own.

But then it became obvious that Cagalli must have remained in that room for longer than she had meant to. Certainly, she had learnt more than she had wanted to.

There were footsteps approaching, and panicking, she looked around, looking for an escape, but found none. Then a voice behind her spoke from where he must have stood at the stairs, and she flinched. Standing on the steps, his shadow was cast over her and she knew that he had become a stranger once more.

"Enjoying yourself?" Athrun said drolly.

* * *

2 months. 15 days.


	22. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

A/N: Dear readers and reviewers, thanks for the support so far! The Isle's definitely coming to a close, but we've got some way to go. But then, many of you already know that. When I got back from my exams and a trip overseas, I was really touched to see so many well wishes. Exam results are satisfactory, thank you, and the holiday trip was awesome. :) Let's hope this chapter will be the same for you. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

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Chapter 21

* * *

He strode past her, but not before depositing his shoes next to hers in a careless, almost flippant manner. There was calmness in his mannerism and the composure he diverted his eyes away from the things around her.

But his eyes told another story- those lingered darkly on the files and letters that were strewn across the carpet, some having fallen while in her trail from the storeroom to this central part of the basement. With horror, she realised she'd instinctively gathered things in her arms and rushed out from the storeroom into this main room there was only one entrance or exit to. Her eyes flew to the trapdoor she'd entered from. There wasn't a square of light.

Realising he must have locked the door in the wooden ground and came to find her, Cagalli panicked. She ran, even if it wasn't a great distance at all, back into the storeroom, but stumbled and as if by sheer irony, landed back in the circle of things she'd pulled out from before. He took another step closer, having followed her into this storeroom, and Cagalli knew she was trapped. There was only one exit from this storeroom into the main room, and the main room had only one exit into his study. He was blocking the entrance of this storeroom.

Cagalli stared up at Athrun, unconsciously clutching a file to her. The proof of his betrayal lay around her, things strewn everywhere and the path of what she'd pried very clear. She took a look at his face and fled, even if it was a matter of only a few meters.

Surely, Cagalli thought wildly, she was in grave danger now. Athrun was not a person who forgave easily, because he was not a person who took offence easily. But surely, she'd done something he would not tolerate.

Nervously, she looked around, trying to think of what she could use as a weapon.

"When Epstein came back, he couldn't find you anywhere." He said flatly, without a single emotion reminiscent of anything remotely positive. There was a simmering temper in him that she sensed he was trying to restrain. "But you left the trapdoor open, so it was quite easy to guess where you'd vanished to."

When had he returned? Athrun looked impeccable even when he was casually dressed in dark pants and a black, long-sleeved turtleneck. In the semi-darkness, he cut an imposing figure while hidden in the shadows. She thought of the night he'd appeared on the SS Rafael and shuddered.

At the same time, it occurred to her that he had not possibly known she was here in the basement. He was obviously here to rest, since he was not dressed formally, and she realised he had often stayed here for long hours to plan. She, on the other hand, was dressed only in a thin white cotton dress and his borrowed cardigan. Naturally, Cagalli was already shivering in the unheated rooms.

"You know," Athrun said contemplatively but very coldly, "I didn't think it was so easy to get in here. Or did you manage to worm that information out of someone? Were you on such good terms with Epstein that he'd even betray me?"

Cagalli stared into the face of someone she did not know what to feel for. In return, Athrun looked at her with some contempt that she'd never seen.

"You don't have the right to judge what I did to make you tell me things." Cagalli said defiantly. "Not when you accepted and knew I would try doing more. And don't you dare look at me like I would-," She found herself unable to continue, shaking her head once and casting her eyes down.

Athrun smiled easily without any real joy, and there was an uneasiness in the way he cast his eye around that she could no longer ignore. As she swallowed Too much evidence was staring at her in the face. Hadn't that been the expression Marlin used when he'd recounted his days of being a solicitor?

As Athrun moved gracefully in the room, weaving his way around the things she'd strewn, Cagalli could see a deep aggression building in him. It frightened her, but she continue kneeling there, not willing to be pushed out until she had said her piece.

"On a strictly normal basis if I saw you in the doorway," Athrun said with a touch of displeasure that she heard right away, "I would tell you to get out of there, seeing that you would have had absolutely no right to be there."

He cast a dark eye over the place, "But seeing that you've made yourself cosy in my study, basement and the storeroom, there's no point, is there?"

His voice dipped low, and the air around them felt tighter with his tension. "Now get out of here."

Cagalli began to tremble violently, for he had never showed her so much aggressiveness and such clear anger. She knew she was in danger- she knew she should obey first, while watching her back. Confronting a man who had made such detailed plans to neutralise her and had even used coercion and persuasion all at once was certainly suicidal.

Surely then, this room had been filled with all his innermost secrets- the secrets she would have never been aware of even when he had managed to kill her. She should not have stayed there. But she could not ignore all this.

"Get out of _your_ room, you say?" Her voice was dull. "Then what about the room you've been bringing me to? The one you make me sleep in? Does that mean that each time, you brought me to a place you didn't use for anything else?"

As Athrun's eyes travelled from her eyes to her feet and back again, Cagalli felt a tremble move through her. If he had done that before, Athrun had caused her to feel frissons of desire and hope that he would try to understand her one day. But now, she knew all that was impossible.

Yet when he answered, Cagalli knew he had never thought of all that she had. "Did you think I would have given you a special room just so I could touch you?"

She stood up slowly, her body like lead from kneeling in that circle. Then Cagalli turned fully around to face him. As she did this, she threw her file straight at him with a cry that ripped itself from her throat. The fury of her expression matched his silent anger, and the file would have hit him except that Athrun caught it in his hands and lobbed it aside with equal violence.

"How dare you!" Her voice grew in its volume and loathing tone. "How dare- You kept this- all this from me! And how could you-,"

He stepped towards her. The flintiness of his expression made her shrink inwardly, but Cagalli stood her ground as he spoke

"You used me!" Cagalli burst out. She stepped out of the circumference of material she had surrounded herself by. While it seemed that the circle of protection and proof had been left behind, she felt herself grow stronger in her conviction.

The proof had always been there- she'd been blinded, and he'd blinded her. Maybe, she thought with agony, she'd always wanted to be blinded to the truth in so many ways.

Athrun took a step forward, surveying the materials that lay on the floor. The steadiness of his voice made it ring through the room."Is this all you went through? Because if it is, you can get your explanations later."

"Wait," Cagalli interjected. "I-,"

"Don't make me repeat myself again," He interrupted, "Get out."

No!" The hurt in her voice made it a scream even though it was soft and controlled. "I'm your pawn, aren't I? You made me lie next to you- you made me wonder if I was wrong about what I'd always thought- you made me think you were opening up to me so I would open myself to you-,"

"I will explain. But not now." Athrun said this brusquely, reaching her and dragging her a little to the side, where the door to the main basement was.

"I don't believe you." Cagalli snarled, shoving his hands away and standing firmly rooted there. "Don't you throw me out so you can lie later! I'm not stupid enough for that when everything's here!"

"What's here?" Athrun said in an unreadable manner.

Cagalli thought of how he'd known what her room looked like and how he'd fashioned her cage to be similar to it. She thought of the clothes he'd been aware she was wearing and what she was likely to accept. She thought of the trinkets he'd given her and how he must have known what she was wearing under her clothes, what she thought of each day, what she was likely to do and how he could eliminate her easily.

"What's here? This!" Cagalli said firmly, pointing to the letters. "This!" Her eyes fell on the files.

"And that!" Her voice grew loudly in the air as she jabbed a finger in the direction of the storeroom. "And that!"

"I deserve to know why I had to die, don't I? Are you going to ignore me? Or tell me that I need to trade something else for me to understand?"

Athrun's eyes turned cold, so cold and hollow that she trembled. "What else do you have left?"

And that was when something in her broke. It wasn't so much his words as much as that derision, that indifference and that lack of any clear emotion she thought he would at least show to her.

She reached out and slapped him.

"Don't you dare use that against me!" Cagalli spat. Her voice hung in the air, twined with poison and the shuddering gasps of withheld tears. "I trusted you, but you lied about so many things and used me!"

Athrun stared at her blankly, and slowly, reached up to her cheek, fingering the area gingerly. Cagalli had hit him hard, and the spot her fingers had made contact with was red on his pale skin.

"You're a hypocrite." He said softly, hissing slightly in pain. "A hypocrite and a liar, just like me. We're the same."

His eyes had darkened to the state that their clear emerald tones had become almost jet. There was a moment where his mouth showed a tender smile, but next to his eyes, there was a menacing quality to his expression.

Tears were stinging her eyes, hot and angry. She reached down, scooping up the letters, shaking them roughly. "You never told me all this time that you were already in contact with Kira right from the start! So when I wanted to send a letter, you made me trade something for it, despite you knowing that you could easily do it!"

He did not bother fighting off her accusations. He did not bother telling her that those were untruths and that he hadn't written to Kira after he'd come to the Isle. Athrun was still reeling from the shock of having Cagalli in the innermost chambers of the place, where he kept all his secrets.

"And this!" Cagalli's voice rang out. "Why do you have all these things of your father's? All the annotations you made on his plans if the Genesis project failed- and this-," Cagalli shook the diary. "Didn't you tell me that you wanted never to be like him? Didn't you mean it then? But you used all the information you took from his diary to create your own plans, didn't you? I was your pawn from the start, wasn't I?"

For some strange reason, she thought that Athrun hadn't heard her, for he had pushed past her and bent down to look at the things. Even while bending, his posture perfect as usual, but there was something broken about him. She began to repeat herself, in hopes of eliciting a response from him. Any response would have done, but he gave her none.

"You sent letters to Kira to assure him that you would be pursuing a new life somewhere else. Did he reply? Did he know what had happened that made you leave Orb even before I admitted it to him a few years later? What were you doing, all this time?"

"Why do I need to report to you?" Athrun retorted, striding forward and knocking the letters from her hands. "If I wrote letters to Kira even after I left Orb, that is his due. But who are you to me that I must tell you of this place and share these secrets with you?"

She stared, aghast at his sudden aggression, not understanding that it was in fact she, who had pushed him beyond his threshold. Instead, Cagalli began to grow more agitated, and her voice grew firmer in her suspicion and demands.

"You're right," Cagalli choked. "You're goddamn right. Nobody tells the person he wants to kill the truth. You didn't want me to suspect you were out there, planning God-knows-what to start another war!"

His voice was even, and he was growing eerily still. If anything, Athrun had snapped to attention, and there was a calm that radiate from him. "And what makes you think that I want another war?"

"This!" She said sharply, raising the diary and shaking it thoughtlessly. His eyes narrowed, but she was past the point of caring. "Everything is in here!"

Athrun looked at the single one she'd picked up. One in the series of three, and she'd somehow picked the one he'd poured over the most.

"Don't tell me you were unaware of Patrick Zala's original plans," She breathed, "Those were to be carried through his son. In his diary, he wrote that he would take all precautions to ensure your survival in the First War. You must have known from reading the diaries! He always ensured that even when you were dispatched, you were never in the front lines. He had great plans for you, didn't he? He'd made arrangements for you to be the pilot of the Freedom and to have a glorious future, in his own words. Even when the Freedom was stolen, he immediately made you to pilot of the Justice!"

Cagalli hissed. "I was a fool for underestimating both of you! Patrick Zala- spending his life building a weapon that could be destroyed so easily? You, spending your time here, pretending to run from your past?" She laughed bitterly. "Not likely!"

"What more did you read from those diaries?" His posture was tense.

"If the Genesis project failed, his son would start the war again in the seat of power that Patrick Zala would arrange for!"

Her eyes flashed. "That's what you're here doing right? You were to be the vessel- the harbinger, in his words! He had great hopes for you, didn't he? Bastard that you said he was, he loved you! You told me you'd always felt guilty because you knew you'd betrayed him when you'd refused to pull the trigger. You knew he expected and wanted so much for you to understand him. It's all over in the diary, even if he never managed to act that way to you. And you were acting on his last wishes, didn't you?"

Athrun thought of the way he'd once sat here, looking at a portrait of his father when Cagalli had first come to the Isle. He'd muttered then, that if his father had met Cagalli, he would have been sorry to have her broken.

Athrun was not unobservant or unaware of the situation when he'd taken Cagalli here. He'd known that despite who he was working for and the purpose of his ultimate mission, what he was doing was strangely and eerily akin to what his father had always wanted if the Genesis weapon was never triggered. But he'd never expected to have Cagalli think all this of him.

As he looked down at the opened diary, Athrun felt his fists tighten.

"How could you go through that-,"

His voice had lost every ounce of calm, and he was trembling quite visibly. Yet, Cagalli felt a strange sense of triumph rear in her, and through it all, she knew he could not longer remain silent.

She turned away, tossing it aside. It made a strange sound against the lower, framed portraits. At the same time, he made a small sound of grief as his father's diary was flung away, but in her anger, Cagalli did not see it.

"I made mistake by agreeing to stay on. I thought you wanted me here with you because you felt something for me. I was a fool." Cagalli told him forcibly. "And at this point, I don't care that you want another war. But I'm not going to stay any longer- I'm not going to be a pawn you can use and force to stay here for the six months. I'm going back to Orb the second I finish saying this. I don't care if you try to kill me here and now." Her voice shook for a second. "But I care that you lied to me, that you used me in those plans!"

"What proof do you have?" Athrun said defiantly. While he did not bother going and picking the diary up, there was poison in his stare.

"You have files with the plans you developed with your father's brainchild as its basis." She said in a low voice.

The diary had been enough proof, but she had wanted to prove her doubts were wrong. Surely, it was a matter of a past threat to her father's life and a matter of coincidence that Athrun Zala seemed to be carrying out those plans with her as the pawn now. It was her imagination. There was no such thing as Patrick Zala's plans to get Athrun Zala in an influential position within Plant's Supreme Council.

But then she'd found the surveillance records and all that he'd collated. The information and the specific things he'd been keeping tabs on in ways that she wasn't even clear of had matched too neatly with the diary.

"Your father was planning to have my father assassinated even if Genesis failed. Even if Patrick Zala died, he'd leave behind his son to complete the job." She said savagely. "You were to use the Orb Head to turn the Orb against the Earth Alliance. That would start a war where Orb and the Earth Alliance Naturals would wipe each other out."

"Your father started writing that what Orb's always believed in a matter of impossible ideals. He didn't believe that Coordinators and Naturals can live together after your mother was killed."

She shook her head, trying to go on, trying to lay out the facts that were still causing her so much grief. "He wanted these tainted Coordinators in Orb, as he called them, to die along with the Naturals. You were supposed to be his vessel if the Genesis failed- and you were! That's why you brought me here and tried to make me stay."

Athrun was frozen where he was. He said nothing and Cagalli lost the last of her control.

"If I don't get back to Orb by the time six months are up, Orb will go to war with Scandinavia and the Earth Alliance! That's what you really wanted because your father put you up to it! If my father had been alive, you'd have used him but as it turns out," Cagalli laughed brokenly. "I made a better pawn than my father because I sympathised and even thought I might have still loved you."

Throughout this, Athrun's eyes had not left her face. He had stood, frozen, silent, with that monstrous calm fuelling her hurt.

And then Cagalli was taunting him because she didn't know how else to hurt him- to make him feel how she did. Her voice turned derisive. "I always knew both of you were brilliant- but this! If I stay here, the adapted plans can be carried out, as your father wished. I think he's proud of you, Athrun. Very, very proud. Even when the pawn he needed had died a long time ago, you found another." Her voice broke. "A better pawn, in fact. One that let you do almost anything you liked, one that learnt not to question, one that couldn't resist you when you asked to be trusted- trusted to the point that I would have given you anything you wanted. Did I serve your purposes well enough?"

"I didn't have any plans!" Athrun roared, lividly slamming his fist on the table next to him. All the books reported by leaping into the air, but he didn't seem to take notice. "I don't have any!"

So Cagalli did what she had always done when threatened. She rose to the threat with her own and with a little to spare. If she had been in her office, twenty people would have been quivering. But here, she was not trying to settle a deal- she had long gone past that. Still, she lashed out.

Squaring her shoulders, Cagalli bit back her tears and yelled in her fury, "We've never meant anything to each other, so don't lie to me anymore, Athrun!"

Storming over to the drawer, she yanked open the last drawer and took a step back as all the things flew from there. It wasn't difficult to see what she had been referring to. Amidst all of the paraphernalia, there was a well-made, fine fountain pen.

"This pen." Cagalli said quietly, picking up and holding it in the light. "Has my name engraved on it. You made a spare, didn't you?"

He stared at it, not saying anything. This was a spare that he had thought of finding a way to present to her again, right after she'd damaged the first one. But the thought of the last thing he'd watched and how affected he'd been for the subsequent days and weeks had made him abandon the idea. He'd even gone as far as to convince Greyfriars that there had been no point observing a person who was far too well-guarded when really, that had been far from the truth.

"I had one those years ago, until I dropped it accidentally. But you know the rest- I told you of the rest." Cagalli began to laugh wistfully in her heartache. "What a fool I was! Here you were- the person orchestrating those events that I never even realised were attempts on my life."

She pointed at the file with her name on it, her voice entirely changed in its hostility. "And you even confirmed with Greyfriars that I was carrying the pen around! Who is Greyfriars?"

He had gone entirely motionless, his face inscrutable. That crack, that show of temper had long faded away, and what she witnessed now was even more disconcerting. He was steeling himself, and she recognised the person before her as the one who had killed Decant Corriolis all those months ago.

Still, Cagalli confronted him, unable to shake off the betrayal.

"And the car incident- I was locked in there alone. If Aaron hadn't smashed the window, I'd have been dead meat! Were you disappointed that I survived while you noted down how things were going on that Wednesday afternoon, Athrun?"

Spitefully and only because she did not know not to express the bitter disappointment of realising that he had long been out to hurt her, Cagalli caught another file in her hands and threw it forcefully at him. She wanted to hit him, wanted to hurt him for hurting her.

He made no effort to duck; only stood there as the file hit him squarely in the chest and fell to the ground this time. All the photographs they had taken- whoever the people who had been trailing her were- over the years were now spilling everywhere.

Watching those innocuous, almost totally harmless shots of her falling in coloured pieces over the carpet made Cagalli smile. It was a broken, cynical smile that she didn't even realise she was capable of giving in that situation.

"When you laid next to me and told me all about you, I thought- I honestly did- that you were beginning to open yourself to me." Cagalli whispered. "I thought then, that all that mattered was that you trusted me. But I was wrong."

"It didn't matter that I had to trade something in for you to say how you felt about your past, about your father and how you had admired him all this time while hating him. I really did think that I knew you then, Athrun, I really did."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head once and very slightly, but she was hardly aware that he was growing white with dismay.

Athrun looked stonily at her, but remained resolute in his muteness. Her temper flared even more, and her voice began to shake because of her partial fear and partial pain.

"From his diary, it's obvious, isn't it?" Cagalli rasped. "And my god, I was a fool for not seeing the truth when you told me so many times that your father was your ghost! And the other time, when I told you of all the failed attempts of assassination, you remarked that I was surprisingly difficult to kill. I laughed then, didn't I? What a fool I was!"

Cagalli threw her head back and laughed in her pain. "You must have come here to look at everything and laugh at me right after that!"

And Athrun took a step back, making as if to leave. She had never seen him run from her before, but now, she knew she never wanted to again. Not even when she was going to suffer and die for it if he turned back.

"Tell me!" Her voice broke, and she realised that tears were beginning to stream from her face. Why was she so useless? Why couldn't she control her feelings and bite back those little drops that showed how weak she was? "Damn you Athrun- how could you let me feel for you again and do this to me?"

He shook his head, walking away from her. She should have rejoiced at her chance to escape or even taken the chance to put him out of consciousness and find a way back to Orb. She could have turned and refused to watch him leave, just as she had all those years ago. But she chose not to now.

"Did you agree to those contracts with me because you wanted to prolong my stay here?" Cagalli questioned, not able to shake off her disappointment. "You knew how desperate I was to return- and you supposed that if you had refused, I would have tried to escape even if it cost me my life. So you took the chance and tried to stall me. And you got benefits from that too, didn't you?"

He paused, although he didn't turn around.

"Why did it have to be you using me?" Cagalli said in her anguish. "Each time you chose to use me, as your father would have used mine, did you think of what you were doing to me?"

"I'm not my father," He interrupted forcefully. "I'm not like those you don't trust and let near you for good reasons." His eyes met hers as he whirled around, finally showing her his expression. The vehemence he suddenly broke his composure with was so startling that she dropped everything she had been confronting him with.

And Athrun advanced towards her. Flustered, she took a step back. But he came closer still, pressing his hands against the sides of the wall, trapping her against it swiftly. His voice was a hiss, and she cowered, knowing how powerless she was against him now.

"Don't you dare not trust me." Athrun said bitingly. "Don't you dare."

His voice was controlled, but she sensed a tremor go through his body, as if someone had punched him or taken a knife through each palm and shredded it into his shoulders like butter.

"You have no right to make those suppositions, as if you are blind to all I've done for you. You have no right to think that the only thing I care about is a father who died along with my mother."

Defensively, Cagalli put her hands up, trying to cover her eyes, as if he had threatened to hit her. But he did not, for his words were enough to produce the same effect.

"Those letters should have been burnt a long time ago." Athrun told her grimly. "Those diaries would have been held in Plant until today, if I hadn't earned them and hidden them here."

"And it's a good thing you didn't," Cagalli turbulently, mocking him. "Imagine how hard it would be to have no reference while trying to kill me!"

"I never tried to!" He bellowed, punching his fist against the wall, right next to her head. She glanced at his fist and thought of the fine scars on those that she'd noticed before. But no gloves would cover those scars even if he'd worn those.

Athrun did not seem to feel the pain anymore. He stared at her, as if his fist was not raw and bruised and required no attention at all. "You think you have proof that I was planning to kill you? And even you have those, you think I wanted to? You think I did it willingly even now, despite all we've been through?"

And suddenly, without warning although she should have suspected that he had been driven up a wall as well, Athrun grabbed her by the cardigan she'd borrowed, pulling at the collar and ignoring her yelp of surprise and fear. The wall was cold against her back, and she felt him pressing her even more, pushing her to put her in a defenseless state.

He ripped the material off her, immune to how she jolted and began to fight him, trying to scratch or at least push away as he rid her of it. His mouth sought hers and even when Cagalli screamed as best as she could and bit down into his lip, he retaliated. Athrun did more than retaliate- he trailed his lips down her neck again in a manner that seemed both familiar and not.

The hatred that burnt in him and the way he bit at her made her cry out, and Cagalli was horrified to feel lust in her body even when her life was being threatened. All the same, she was struggling and she knew she was unlikely to escape now. His hands were scrabbling against her flailing ones, her bare arms weaker against his.

Athrun was simply furious, she thought in a strange, frozen kind of awe, her cries muffled by his mouth and his hands still fighting with hers and crushing her fingers in his grip. He was a man who had finally snapped- a man who had never really lost his temper with anyone except those he abhorred. Had they both sunk to that level so quickly when she had loved him so much? She didn't know.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing her, and breathlessly, Cagalli looked up at him, panting. He was doing the same, his eyes stormy and his lower lip raw and bleeding slightly from where she'd bitten. He sported a small but painful looking scratch on his cheek where she'd managed to get at him, and he was breathing heavily with the exertion of trying to rein in his anger.

Now, his words were twisted by his gritted teeth. Again, he locked her there by placing his hands on either side of her head as her back was pressed against the wall.

"They can doubt me as a heretic's son, but not you." He hissed.

"How do you want me to trust you with everything here?" Cagalli challenged him, her hands still shielding her. Her breaths were small puffs of white in this chilly storeroom. "It makes sense doesn't it? You left, and you set up some kind of base here-,"

Her hand shot into the air as she gestured, "And over these few years, you made plans to kill me, until you realised I could be used as a pawn, whether dead or alive! When did you realise I was better off alive, Athrun? What made you kill the lackey who tried to shoot me in the bedroom you let him into? He said you had no more use for me, and before he could kill me, you stabbed him yourself. Was it some elaborate play to make me trust you? Did you sacrifice some lackey for that?"

"No," Athrun said shakily. "That wasn't me he was talking about- he wasn't working for me. I needed you- Iwanted to save you! I couldn't let you die-," His voice broke as he watched her expression harden.

Her eyes flashed and her voice grew malevolent. "Was it when you realized I could give you that Orb citizenship you wanted to further your businesses? Or was it later, when I offered you part of me? Or when I was on my knees for you? Was it when you were using me? You were using Lyra Delphius as well, weren't you?"

If anything, her question made him even more incensed and he grabbed her face and pulled her closer, saying softly, in that terrible voice, "Do you think I killed her because I merely got tired of her?"

"You told me she died of illness-,"

"Yes." Athrun said sharply. "Foolishness."

She gasped, and he let go of her as if he had touched burning coals, shoving her aside. And stumbling away now, as if someone had taken a cudgel and set work breaking his body and will, he turned his face from hers, leaving her to realise how cruel she had been.

"Don't go off and leave it at that!" Cagalli snarled, hitting back at him. She grabbed him by his shoulder and whirled him around to face her. "You're going to kill me like her anyway, so I might as well get it off my chest!"

Athrun's eyes narrowed until they were slits, but she was past the point of caution. If he killed her here and now, she would have still found a way to say all she proceeded to. And when she did, she knew the pain she was trying to cause was only equal to the hurt he had given her.

"Would it help if I told you I wanted you to hate me when I made the contract to trade half of my body?" Cagalli taunted. "And that I had purposely played with you because I didn't have any feelings towards you? Did you hate me for that? Would that be the explanation you owe me for why you tried to kill me? Doesn't that explain why you did all this to me? Should I take it that you hated me and for that simple reason, played with me?"

He looked at her, seeing the sorrow in her eyes and the fire she attacked him with. The words she said pained him, but instinctively, Athrun knew it was in her nature to lash out when she was hurt. He'd hurt her with what she thought were lies, but he knew that it ran deeper than that.

If he told her the truth, his chances of gaining his freedom would be dashed, and Cagalli would hate him for all he had done. But if he didn't, she'd hate him anyway.

And when he spoke, Athrun found that he could not help himself anymore than he could help everything that had occurred.

Athrun's voice was a groan of despair, his hands falling by his sides, tight in fists. "I can't tell you- I can't! I would be betraying so many if I did-,"

She stared, biting her lips for a second, as was her habit when she did not know what to do anymore.

"Then don't." Cagalli said wearily, turning her head away. She moved away from the wall she'd backed up against. "I can't force you anymore. Even if I knelt here, put a knife in your hands and offered you my life, it wouldn't change anything now."

Her hands were shaking. "But I will apologize for having gone through these things. I had no right to, and I didn't mean to come down here. I wouldn't have if I hadn't even stepped into your study."

Cagalli's voice dropped, so much that it was a rustle of a page, a caress of a finger that melted too soon into the air. "I only came into the study to learn what you'd like when I gave it to you. That was a mistake. Maybe it would have been better for me to live in my ignorance."

"Give?" His voice was as shaky as hers.

"To celebrate your birthday." Cagalli whispered. "When Epstein offered to take me into your study so I would know if what I wanted to give was suitable, I agreed to. But I intruded even in here. I shouldn't have done that."

She stood there, unable to continue, unable to hold her tears back anymore. Those blurred her vision and fell to the floor, and she didn't dare to look up for fear that she would break down completely.

"Your intruding doesn't matter." Athrun said harshly. "All that's said and done. But I cannot have you doubt me, do you understand? I've told you, over and over again, that I don't have a choice when it comes to you. Believe me."

"Please," He added, and something of her resolve was fragmented by how aged him seemed, how tired he looked.

Cagalli recalled how he had looked at her each time they'd told each other about their pasts in the bath or the bed. There had been that burning need, that strange sadness that never left his eyes, no matter how she had made him laugh and smile. He had sacrificed so much precisely because he hadn't been able to say no to her.

"I never thought I'd be moved by you again- or by anyone for that matter." His voice was filled with that nameless, deep agony. He stood there, rooted in that spot.

"And yet, you look at me now and ask me why I became my father. I don't know why either. I tried to fight it- I really did. And maybe I do have a choice when it comes to you this time." Athrun looked at her, aged by his suffering, wounded so deeply that she knew he would never be the same.

His eyes flickered to her face for a brief instant, and then dropped down. He looked away, turning in the direction of the steps. "There's no meaning in keeping you here when you're not safe anyway- it's pointless now."

Athrun's voice was hollow- the voice of a man who had lost everything in an instant."I'll arrange for you to be sent back to Orb immediately. If you leave, you'll be able to forget, as you wanted to. Now leave this place."

She stared at him, the complete devastation in his eyes and the pain in his face. Another transformation had taken place in him- he was shielding himself, guarding his own emotions now, and suddenly, he was that cold, completely controlled figure of stone and steel.

In those seconds, the last of Athrun Zala had vanished. In his bid to sever the ties that had made them fall in love but become so hurt by each other, he had become a stranger again.

Cagalli stood there, still frozen, sensing the rage he had managed to control by killing all his faculties of human feeling.

And slowly, as she walked past him, her hands limp by her sides, she knew she could not see his expression his fringe covered. Even if she had seen his face completely, he would have probably and already worn his mask.

But perhaps, he was wearing no mask at all. He had already and truly lost all the capacity to feel when she had looked at him and accused him of making use of her. Why was the prospect of returning to Orb after finally cracking through Athrun not appealing anymore? Why was he even hurt when she had been wounded by him- and why did it hurt her all the more to sense that?

As she walked past him, something broke in her too, and the portraits of all those he had loved smiled in a row of unknowing, senseless happiness. Those bore witness to the pain of those living.

Then abruptly, Cagalli turned back and in a few strides, had reached him and flung her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, her hands warm against his cold, unfeeling body.

She could not see his face, for he had turned away, but she could not let go of him now. Not then, Cagalli told herself breathlessly, not for those seven years, and not now, not when it mattered so much.

His voice was a whiplash, more unfeeling than she had ever thought possible, and the unhappiness beneath its veneer made the same pain blossom in her chest.

"Let go!"

"No!" Her cry matched his in equal volume and the same intensity of emotion.

Athrun shoved her away, and the force made her stumble slightly. But she returned, and her hands were strong, and she clutched at him, relinquishing all her pride, forgoing her stubbornness, praying that he would listen to her.

"Don't do this." He rasped, suddenly weak with overwhelming heartache and the pain of every year he had lived mounting and weighing him down. "Don't touch me."

She clung to him desperately, willing him to forgive her, willing him to accept her. He pushed her away quite immediately, but she pulled him to her at the same time, trying to make him understand, trying to tell him that she had hurt him for no good reason, and that she had hurt herself by hurting him.

"I can't understand you," Cagalli said painfully. "Because you won't let me. But I want to, Athrun. Please- tell me."

Then slowly, his hands, frozen in mid air, found their away around the small of her back. His voice was a mumble, and he was breathing as if he had been running for a long time.

"I didn't try to kill you. Believe me. I would never have. I could never have willingly tried to hurt you."

And Cagalli buried her face into his chest. Why was she allowing herself to be fooled again? Why try and believe him all over again? The proof was here, and if he had been playing games with her, she would have been a fool to fall for the same thing over and over again.

But she couldn't- even if he proceeded to take a gun and shoot her in her head, she would still have believed, even to the last minute, that her murderer was not Athrun, or that Athrun had loaded only blanks into the gun.

She was a fool, Cagalli thought to herself. She didn't mind being a fool for him.

"You don't believe me yet." Athrun whispered, still hugging her close to him, as if she would bolt suddenly. "But it's true- it really is. I can't say how- but it's true."

Her voice was ragged with her unsteady breathing and soft with her indescribable pain.

"I want to believe you. Tell me." Cagalli began to stammer, her voice shaking and her hands trembling, as she looked into his unseeing eyes and pale, almost unrecognisable face. "I'm sorry. I have no right to ask for your forgiveness- but I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I-"

Athrun lifted her chin and shook his head, unable to speak, and tenderly, she brought his face to hers, tiptoeing a little, so she could kiss him. He did not respond, but her kiss was searching, demanding, and he allowed her to cup his face with both her palm.

Then she broke away, although her hands were still on his cheeks, and her eyes were golden and half-lidded.

"I'll believe you," She said pleadingly. "Please. Tell me so I can be with you."

"Impossible." Athrun said softly, holding her for a second more, and then beginning to let go of her. "I can't tell you. I owe a duty to keep my silence."

"But I need to know." She said with a mute suffering. "At all costs."

He looked at her, and saw only honesty and trust. There was no more derision, no more of that infuriating scorn and doubt in Cagalli's eyes. And he thought of what she had said, what she had meant to do by even being here.

Because of that, Athrun found himself softening, despite his desire to remain firm in his decision that she had to be sent away. Of the two choices, both would still have her hating him. The ignorance made her mistrust him, but the knowledge would make her despise him. At least though, he thought brokenly, she'd have what she deserved to know with the second option. That was better than having her believe what she thought was the truth.

In that instant, he made up his mind. He had always known that one day, he'd have to tell her everything. He couldn't run away and hope for more time to be with her, but at least, Athrun would try to make her understand.

"Cagalli," He said hesitantly, "If I tell you, you must listen to everything. If you despise me for it, it will be just as well. But you must listen to everything."

"I won't despise you." She said softly. "How could I not feel anything for you when I ended up loving you again after all this time? I was a fool for trying to hate you, to make myself numb to you. So tell me everything- explain it to me properly. I want to know everything about you, all over again."

Cagalli shook her head, stroking his face. "We were so young and foolish then, going on in our own happiness without learning anything. I won't have that now. I'm not going to leave or watch you leave without hearing you out."

He looked at her sadly. "I wanted to tell you a long time ago, but there are others I must protect too."

She studied him and knew that it was not cowardice but the fear of risking things he was supposed to protect. Athrun had never wanted to endanger something, Cagalli realized, and she was about to find out what that was.

"I won't tell anyone outside the Isle," She assured him. "I swear on my own life that I won't. If you must destroy me after this, I would willingly put a gun to my head, as long as I understood why you did everything that you did."

Assured now, Athrun took her hand gently, leading her out of the storeroom, bringing her to the main basement where the sofa was. He felt drained and even more insecure, but Cagalli's hand was warm in his and he knew she wanted to believe him once more.

As he sank into a seat, she sat with him too. Athrun was a little hunched, his hands clasped in her lap, and he began to speak. His breaths were unsteady, and she knew he was trying to come to terms with everything, just as she was.

"I'm not sure you can tolerate all I've done for such a long time." He said quietly, with some wryness that she realized she'd missed quite suddenly. His eyes were dull but he made an effort to smile a little, and heart heavy, she whispered, "I've got the rest of six months to try."

He tried to smile again to return the one she managed, and comfortingly, Cagalli moved closer to him.

"After the war," Athrun told her morosely, "I never thought of returning to the Plants. There was only one place I wanted to be in. When I found myself being asked to leave Orb in a situation I couldn't even explain myself out of, there was no choice for me except to go back to Plant and try to move on from there."

"Eventually, I came to the Isle," Athrun said slowly, "After I left Orb, that is. Before I did that, I went back to Plant to settle my personal affairs. I left almost everything to my estate, as if I'd died, and made preparations to leave Plant. But I took certain things with me, including my father's old letters and diaries." He shook his head, laughing without any real job. "While I didn't want to have anything to do with my father, I couldn't just forget him, could I?"

Cagalli studied him, understanding the turmoil his mind was in.

"I wanted to claim the things that belonged to me at very least, and that's why I came back to the Plants first, even though I wasn't planning to stay there. I didn't even make it past the immigration counter." He shook his head. "I was detained, and I was made an offer by Zaft."

"An offer," Cagalli said hesitantly. "That involved you going to the Isle?"

He nodded. "The Secret Intelligence Council arranged for it. The Isle was supposed to be an asylum or refuge for me, while being a place I was supposed to carry out my new duties in. The deal was that if I agreed to serve for three more years, I'd be allowed to leave the Plants with the diaries my father had left for me."

She looked at him, seeing him close his eyes briefly as if to try and shut away the pain.

"These diaries are dangerous- you know that. Those are perfectly workable plans, even though I never thought of using those or even seeing how similar the significance of my future actions were to what my father planned for me." Athrun told her. "At that time, I was only concerned with obtaining what I wanted to keep. I couldn't just give everything away to Plant's Supreme Council, who wanted to have everything of his destroyed. I didn't want to work for Zaft or anything like that, but I found myself in it again, because I wanted to keep what my father had left for me."

He sighed quietly, a tiny exhaling that seemed to put years into his body. "That's the stupid thing, really. Even until today, I'm afraid to remember my father and unwilling to let his actions cast a shadow over my life, but I couldn't let go of his things either. Still, I did know that I wanted to go somewhere where my father's name would never plague me again."

"That was virtually impossible in Plant." Cagalli realised. "So that's why you were willing to come here!"

"Yes." Athrun forced a small smile, although it ended as something strangely sorrowful. "Nor could I return to Orb because of the reasons you know of. At that time, there was also an existing Zaft promotion before I'd left for Orb, and there was the order from Plant's High Council which I could not disobey. Before I even left for Orb, the order had been that I was to serve in the Plant Supreme Council for as long as I lived."

She stared, wondering why Kira or Lacus had never told her of this. Had they known of this when Athrun had left Plant to try and reach her in Orb again? And if they had, had they kept it from her knowledge in hopes that she would receive Athrun with open arms again? Surely, they must have known that Cagalli would be even more reluctant to let Athrun stay if she knew he'd had such an opportunity he was giving up to be with her in Orb.

"But why didn't you take that earlier offer after the Second War?" Cagalli voice was despondent. "If you'd wanted to forget about Orb and me and move on, why couldn't you agree to work and try and leave everything to the past? Why did you have to go back to Orb after the Second War and try to recover what was already lost?"

He smiled ruefully and she saw herself reflected in his eyes. "You know the reason why."

"But the opportunity that was given to you back in Plant!" Her eyes widened. "Surely, that was a stab at a new life?"

She looked at him and saw a brief flicker of unhappiness in his eyes.

"Did you actually think that they wanted me there?" Athrun said coolly. "They issued a long statement justifying how my qualifications and background would serve them well, but that's all bollocks. The real reason they offered me a promotion after the Second War was to keep an eye on me."

"What for?" Cagalli asked.

"I had been under my father's influence in the First War, and I had served under Dullindal in the second. I had defected twice, and they came to the conclusion that anybody who was persuasive enough would have made use of me." He laughed. "As if other soldiers don't defect! As if my defections had prolonged the war or had made things catastrophic for Plant! As if Dullindal hadn't been persuasive to all of them too! But I was Patrick Zala's son and dangerous by nature- even worse that I would be easily persuaded, as it appeared to them."

Athrun shook his head, looking at Cagalli. "You know the real reason why I agreed to do as Dullindal wanted now, don't you? He offered support for our relationship back then. He knew, by the time you left Armory One, that I was more than your bodyguard. Besides, he had promised peace for a lifetime, and so many others believed them as well."

He rubbed his face in his hands. "Why did I have to be the only one punished for hoping and believing, if somewhat foolishly? Hadn't I already been punished enough by throwing away the person I wanted to be with the most?"

Cagalli held his hand in hers quietly, shaking her head, unable to formulate the words to respond to him.

"Whatever it was," Athrun said slowly, "I didn't want to be chained to Plant's High council. It reminded me of my father's sins and my duty to correct them. Why do I have to? Why should I be expected to? In the past, before the Second War, I did feel I had a duty. But that has changed." He looked at her firmly. "When I finally made head and tail of why you'd rejected me and given your hand to a person who you didn't even like, I knew I'd made the same mistake even before you. I'd assumed my father's mistakes were things I had to solve for him- the way you assumed your father's past responsibilities were your own."

"I don't owe a duty to my father, who chose his own life and how his own death eventually was." Athrun's voice was decisive now, and Cagalli felt a tremor go through her. "Nor do you. And even if I am responsible to solve some problems my father created, I don't want to have some bunch of hypocrites impose that duty on me. Nor should you."

His expression darkened. "As if they had the right to judge me when they had fawned over my father in his day! Under them, a single mistake I made would have stained my father's record even more."

She nodded, understanding. Even now, as Cagalli Yula Atha, a single mistake of hers would have reflected badly on her father and not so much her.

"The suspicion and discrimination isn't overt, but they think I have the potential and therefore will be the second Patrick Zala." Athrun said quietly. "But they don't realise that while I am my father's son, I am not my father. Even until today, I find my superiors keeping checks on me as if I would be planning another war. But I didn't expect you to do that too-," He looked down, smiling ruefully.

Guiltily, she cast her eyes down, for she had looked at him in the same way just minutes ago. But gently, he took her hand and held it to his heart and said softly, "I swear to you that I am not my father."

"I know." She mumbled, feeling guiltier than ever. "But I still think you should have used the opportunity they gave you to prove that you weren't your father."

"But that's exactly why I came to the Isle. When I realized that they wanted to keep an eye on me at all costs, that's when I decided that I'd go along with their plans. And once those three years were up, I'd be my own person and if I could, I'd find a way to go back to Orb again. I wanted you to understand me- not to doubt me and think I'd murdered for my father as I think you made yourself believe." Athrun said. He lifted her chin, looking at her directly.

"At the time when I had left Orb after you'd told me to, I had been too weighed down by the trial, too carefully watched. I decided to bide my time and find a way to return somehow, to explain when you were finally able to accept my innocence. Yet, there was no where else left where I would be free of the actions my father had committed."

Cagalli gazed at him, stricken with sorrow and the guilt of her own involvement.

"Being offered a way to get them off my back even if they breathed down my neck for three more years, and being given a way to forget Orb for a while was attractive. So when the Plant Supreme Council decided they could not control me, they gave me a new identity and let me stay where I would perform duties for a given number of years."

"So that's why I could never track you again. You were here on the Isle by that time." She breathed. "That's how you were able to disappear for so long and be known by another identity. But-," She faltered. "Who are the people here?"

He shook his head, choosing to throw away the lies he'd told her a long time ago. If Athrun had been able to force a smile onto his face and pretend that he was at peace on the Isle when she'd first asked, now he was unable to.

Athrun drew in a deep breath. "The Isle-dwellers are Coordinators who were brought here before the First War broke out. They were people who appealed to Plant in hopes that they would be able to leave their Earth countries to get to space. Many of them had committed all kinds of crime. It didn't help that they were Coordinators and that the Naturals around them were already against them."

"What wrongdoings did these Coordinators on earth do?" Cagalli asked nervously.

"Most of them were driven out from where they were originally, because they were getting too corrupted or too wealthy from some underhanded means. Drug-production, having palms greasier than the food they favour, cyber-hacking, grand schemes-," He trailed off wearily. "The whole works. I suppose I don't have a right to judge these Coordinators, but if I did, I think there's no way to describe them except calling them scum."

She recalled what he'd told her during her first dinner with him on the Isle. He'd spoken about how Coordinators were in and of themselves more privileged than the average person, which had allowed them to be Coordinators in the first place. It didn't matter that there were criminals amongst Coordinators- it only mattered that they were Coordinators and therefore to be hated.

"They were sent here before the First War broke out. I was sent here as an intelligencer to keep them in check on Plant's orders. A rule enforcer of sorts- I track down the Isle-dwellers who try to step out of the Isle, although I never really have to exercise that power. Most are very happy here and don't want to leave. You've seen them at their parties," Athrun said derisively, looking directly at Cagalli.

"Why would Plant agree to look after all these Coordinators who caused problems on Earth in the first place?" Cagalli wondered. "I know Siegel Clyne has always favoured peace and diplomacy, but it seems- seems wrong."

Athrun looked intently at her. "I've wondered about the same thing too. But I suppose that if I were the Plant Chairman and I received appeals from these Coordinators who were going to be persecuted by angry Naturals, I wouldn't have allowed them to die either. Even if bringing them and hiding them away within Scandinavia didn't seem like justice for those they had caused trouble for, letting them die would be wrong too."

"Does Lacus know about this?" She questioned, thinking of her friend and sister-in-law. "Her father headed this operation in the past- an operation that's been continuing even until now."

"She does not." Athrun replied. "Few do. My own father didn't even know of this operation when he was the chairman after Siegel Clyne. It's been one of Plant and Zaft's most well-guarded secrets for a long time. The people who give me instructions are from a council within the Secret Intelligence Division of Zaft, and not all those people are from the Supreme Council."

He shook his head. "Few within the Supreme Council even know about this, probably because of the history of the Isle anyway. Siegel Clyne was the person who arranged for a few trusted people to handle this operation, and he kept it from the public or even his council because there would be too much debate and controversy over it. It's stayed that way, even until today."

"And you became one of the Isle-dwellers while secretly being there to ensure everyone kept within the rules?" Cagalli questioned, her eyes studying him. From the way Athrun was looking at his hands, she knew their crimes had been heinous. She thought of the way he'd looked at those at the party with such great dislike. Cagalli understood now, that he'd hated himself for protecting people who had to face their crimes but were enjoying themselves by being provided an escape route. It didn't seem fair.

Athrun nodded. "Elite soldiers have been arranged to come here and protect them for all this while. I've been guarding this hiding hole for criminals as part of the three-year contract I made."

"If this place is an asylum for them, they won't ever feel the need to leave and answer to their crimes." Cagalli echoed, trying to understand everything in the context of the massive, orgiastic party she had attended with Athrun.

"Most of them treat this place like a holiday resort, since they were allowed to bring their wealth here." He shrugged. "They must pay taxes as ordinary Plant citizens would, but they can afford that and the protection they are given. But not that everyone deserves the asylum, of course."

No wonder then, Cagalli thought, that he had seemed to despise them so much then, but had that rueful countenance about him that night at Rochester's. Had he wondered what he was doing there, whether he had sunk as low as the people he despised around him?

"They've been here for a long time." Cagalli realised. "They didn't seem to recognise me or you."

"These people had to change their identities when the tensions rose even before the First War. You were hidden away from public eyes for so long that they wouldn't have recognized you even if they'd been able to move out from the Isle. In fact," Athrun considered, "Nobody recognizes me as Athrun Zala because I was less than five when they were all sent here."

He smiled thinly. "Not that I'm missing out on being recognised, of course."

"What about the rules of not leaving?" She inquired. "How do they maintain their businesses and wealth?"

"They don't have to. They can fritter away their inheritances and existing fortunes if they wish, and most do. Most can afford the way they live for another hundred years, which is more than enough time for them to gorge themselves to death. As for the rules, there aren't any that prevent them from living like pigs. Those that exist though," He said tightly, "Are to ensure that nobody here gets a way of becoming the most powerful person here. In this place, knowledge would be power, and leaving the Isle and selling information to radical Naturals would be quite a profitable business. It's a protection-scheme in many ways. It's my job to prevent anyone from leaving to sell the identities of these Coordinators to people out for their blood."

"Then why were you able to send the letter and to get information?" Cagalli knitted her hands together anxiously.

"Unlike the other asylum-seekers," Athrun answered tentatively, "I'm serving Plant under Zaft. It isn't an open secret or anything. I do live as Rune Estragon when it is time to make a public appearance for the Isle-dwellers' sake, but I answer to Zaft. In essence though, I have certain privileges on this Isle that the others do not know of. I can leave by using specific yachts- one of which can travel as a submarine. But you knew that, of course." He added.

She nodded, thinking of how she'd been brought here when she'd been injured.

Athrun looked down dully. "I didn't really think about what I was doing when I agreed to come here. I tried not to think, not to understand or to ask questions. The only thing I wanted to know was that I'd only spend three years and then I'd be free to live my own life." He smiled bitterly. "I should have known. The three years sapped a few lifetimes' worth of my spirit. But living with and protecting these people wasn't the most damning thing I did in the three years."

"What do you mean?" Cagalli said, dry-mouthed. She watched him repress a shudder and look at her, his eyes afraid and his mouth tight.

"Right before I left the Isle, I met Epstein Cleamont, who had been Erlich Hoffman then. I was asked to train him."

She furrowed her brow, trying to understand. "But that's normal for soldiers and you're an elite so-,"

"Not that." Athrun cut her off. "I was to teach him to pilot. I taught him to use a mobile suit weapon and to teach him how to kill if Zaft ordered it. He was brought up, under me, to be a soldier. And he became one. He really did. When he was sixteen, I knew that he was ready and that he'd molded into what Zaft had always planned- their perfect soldier."

Cagalli bit her lips. "But-,"

"That's not the worse." Athrun's gaze was distracted and there was a violence in the way he twisted his hands in his lap. "Do you really know who Epstein is? Do you know what circumstances he was brought to Zaft in?"

Cagalli stared at him, not understanding.

He laughed once, a wry laugh that shook his entire frame. "When I returned to the Plants after leaving Orb, the council was still investigating Gilbert Dullindal and Talia Gladys' death. But they had long established knowledge of a child the two had had together and had even acquired the boy."

"Wait-," Her eyes widened and her face was drained of its blood. "Epstein is-,"

Athrun nodded, looking soberly at her. "After the war, Kira actually began searching for Epstein and spoke to the Plant Supreme Council about this child that existed. But Kira didn't know I'd already met the boy and had become the legal guardian. He didn't even know that the Supreme Council had been aware of this child's existence for longer than he had. He didn't known that they'd already found and taken the boy into Zaft. So when Kira informed the Supreme Council that he wanted to take custody of the child, as was the wishes of Talia Gladys, he didn't know it was impossible."

"But even if I hadn't become the legal parent of Erlich Hoffman," Athrun told her, "The Supreme Council would have refused to allow Kira custody. They stated reasons such as that the child could not be traced, and Kira had to accept that. But in fact, they had long located the boy and put him into Zaft, afraid that he would somehow learn of his real father and want to follow in those footsteps."

Athrun smiled ironically. "Perhaps that's why Epstein and I have that strange affinity. Of course, there was also the fact that, the High Council also did not want Kira Yamato to get hold of the time-bomb they viewed Epstein as. "

"Why?" Cagalli asked incredulously. "What's wrong with Kira?"

"The Supreme Council and the Zaft heads do not and still do not trust Kira Yamato." Athrun told her directly. "He fought against Coordinators in the Earth Alliance's uniform in the First War, didn't he? And the reasons he joined Zaft are really only because of his desire to be with Lacus Clyne. If he got hold of an impressionable young boy and taught him those wish-washy defector-style ways, as I remember one council member describing it, then the boy could well become a monster." He laughed wryly. "Dullindal, that is."

"But that's unfair!" Cagalli cried. "Even if Kira made some mistakes in the past, how could they say he'd naturally pass them on to a boy he was asked to look after? Or Epstein's father's mistakes?"

"I know." Athrun said aggressively. "But that's the way it is. They judged Kira without understanding the context, judged Epstein on only his parentage, and naturally, concluded that both would not be safe together. I was chosen instead. I ended up taking custody of the boy, thinking that I would have to only train him and teach him piloting skills, since he apparently had the gift for it."

"Funny how I never realised it-," He said with a queer smile. "But I was such a fool. If they had refused to let a potentially dangerous Kira Yamato meet the boy, then why me, Patrick Zala's son?"

"Yes. I don't understand either." Cagalli said softly. She laid her hand softly on his clenched one.

Athrun took it in his, holding it tightly. "I'll tell you why. Because Kira Yamato could never teach the boy to pilot even if a gun had been placed at the back of Kira's head. But I would teach the boy, if ordered to. And I would teach the boy to fire and kill when ordered to, just as I had been ordered to fire and kill and teach others to do the same. I was a perfect fit."

"Why not other pilots?" She said brokenly. "Why did they have to make you do it?"

Athrun gazed at her stricken expression. "How many pilots do you know? Only the elite in Zaft learn how to pilot. And even then, only a few make it as the more sophisticated mobile-weapon pilots because of the sheer limited supply of these weapons. Lunamaria Hawke and even Heine Westenfluss were above-average pilots and they were assigned average units. "

"But surely there were other pilots?" Cagalli questioned. "Surely there were others, no matter how few there were?"

"It's true." He said steadily. "But Shinn Asuka was out of the question as an instructor- he was too emotional and too shaken by the war. Kira Yamato was out of the question too- his loyalties to Zaft were too questionable. There was only myself, who had involuntarily but nevertheless, been pushed out of knew I was the best fit because I had nowhere else to go."

"Besides," Athrun said wistfully, almost to himself, "Kira could not have known how to teach piloting because he is a natural at it. My expression of natural is ironic, but there is no other explanation of his gifts and abilities in the context of Kira's piloting. It is entirely instinctive to him, and he has never needed to go through the theory or the practice. He can't teach what is already in his blood. Trust me- the Supreme Council had already discovered this when they tried making him instruct the redcoats when he first joined."

"No wonder." Cagalli mused. "I thought he had become the General for Defense and Military Technology only because he refused to teach piloting."

"There was that." Athrun admitted. "But other than his unwillingness, there was his inability, as strange as it seems when it concerns Kira. And Lacus, of course, didn't know about all of this, not even my being sent to the Isle with Erlich Hoffman. There was, and always is, politicking even within the council. Whatever the case, there were limited numbers of mobile-suit pilots, an even more limited number of potential instructors, and Kira Yamato and Shinn Asuka were out of the question."

She listened, understanding how it had been a matter of inevitability of Athrun becoming Epstein's instructor now.

"That's how limited the numbers of pilots are. Even Meyrin Hawke, who graduated in the second-upper class of recruits with her talent for technology and shooting, was only a bridge officer because of a slightly and only marginally weak constitution. The rest of the lesser performers who didn't even make it as engineers and grunts were sent off in the front-lines. They were viewed as spare parts that ships didn't need." Athrun closed his eyes.

What irony that the child of Gilbert Dullindal and Talia Gladys had turned out to be one of those potential few! By the time Epstein had been sent into Zaft, his talent was hard to ignore, and Zaft believed it could use him as an ace pilot.

"The top brass didn't want to reveal his identity to anyone. Not even to him, because it would cause much backlash from the people who had been rejected as pilots."

"Backlash?"

"Here you have the son of a madman and a Zaft captain who chickened out, as they still speak of Talia Gladys." Athrun pursed his lips. "Their son gets chosen to be a pilot even when others kill themselves to get that job. I can see how the superiors thought that all hell would break loose if they revealed his identity even to him."

"If you knew you would be asked to kill while on the Isle," Cagalli asked desperately, "Why did you go with Epstein when you knew you'd eventually grow attached to him?"

"At first, I thought that Epstein was also being sent to the Isle as an asylum seeker," He said quietly, "I thought my sole job concerning him was to be his instructor for three years, although not his parent. I was wary of getting too close to him, or anyone on the Isle."

He paused, looking straight at her. "My agreement with the council seemed simple. I would have the space and time I needed to make Epstein Cleamont a first-class pilot here. For those three years, we used the ocean space for his training, because the unit he'd been assigned was similar to Auel Scheider's. The amphibious model. I thought that by the end of the intended duration, I would have finished my service to Plant and Zaft."

Cagalli stared at him in disbelief. She took Athrun's face in her hands, looking at him, seeing how tormented he was by how he'd rationalised and made himself go through with what he'd done to Epstein.

"That was the sugar coating that I chose to believe. The real deal was that I would be set free if I could trap a person good enough to replace me within three years." Athrun closed his eyes, and she touched his cheeks gently, wanting to comfort him. He seemed to want to continue though, and Cagalli understood that it was the only way to move forward now.

"I was foolish enough to make myself believe that at the end of the three years, I would be free. I even tried to get rid of the guilt by convincing myself that they weren't planning to use the boy I'd trained either. So I taught Epstein everything I knew."

"Why did you believe them?" Cagalli choked. "Why did you do that?"

"You see," Athrun said heavily. "I was promised that I would never be bothered by Plant or Zaft after those three years."

"Then all that you've been doing," She said tentatively. "Your father's diaries, the notes you've made based on them- the collapse of the peace between Orb and the Earth Alliance as long as the Orb Head is held captive for long enough or even killed if necessary-,"

"I wouldn't harm you." He said somberly. "I wanted to have you- I wanted to keep you alive. How could I make plans to harm you?"

Cagalli felt him taking her hands and warming those with his. She looked away, knowing that he was pleading with her, even if silently, to believe him.

"That's why I was even there on the SS Rafael that night." Athrun revealed. "I had learnt that your life was threatened by the Danish terrorists. I knew that they were making plans to harm you."

She shrank back, feeling the grip of his hands on hers tighten.

"Believe me when I say I never wanted to bring you here to the Isle." Athrun begged. "I had my duties from Zaft even then, and I was to protect you and bring you to the Isle according to orders. I was supposed to obtain your consent and hide you on the Isle to prevent the terrorists from harming you. But that was not even part of my plans."

"Then what were your plans?" Cagalli asked in consternation. "Aren't I here on the Isle anyway? When you appeared that night, I was so bewildered and I panicked- I- I didn't know what was going on and by the time I woke up, I was here."

"My plans were the opposite of my orders from the Intelligence Council." Athrun admitted. "I wanted to take you away with me; away from the place I was to bring you to. The vehicle was under my control at that time, and I'd readied Epstein and myself to bring you to Lyon."

"Why Lyon?" She questioned.

"There is a small house in the countryside of France that I was bequeathed." Athrun answered. "I thought it would take some time before the Intelligence Council realized what I'd done and it would take an even longer time for the terrorists to guess where you'd disappeared to."

"Were they trying to kill me that night?" Cagalli asked fearfully. "There was something going on below the deck, and I wanted to go and you wouldn't let me see. And you brought me here to the Isle anyway, so-"

"That's because you ended up shooting yourself and I had no choice because you needed medical attention. Lyon was too far away- reaching France would mean risking your life more than it already was. There was no choice for me except to follow my orders," Athrun looked at her directly. "But know this. It doesn't matter where we are. Even if we had made it to Lyon, I would have still kept you with me. I would not have let you return to Orb immediately."

She stood up, backing away, pushing his hands from hers. "That's insane! If I stay here with you and you keep me from returning to Orb, a war will arise! And if the Earth Alliance fights against Orb, Plant will be forced to intervene! That is surely not part of your orders, is it? To make Plant get mixed up in all of this?"

"I know," Athrun said evenly, looking at her quietly. "It's selfish, but I want to be. Why shouldn't I be? Orb's taken you away. They've forced you to be their pillar and given you nothing but sorrow in return. At least, you'll be safe on the Isle, and I'll let you return, just in time, by the end of the six months."

She shook her head, trying to remain calm. "Why didn't you tell me from the start? I'm the cause of this, aren't I? You weren't thinking of your duties when you took me here."

"No." He admitted. Athrun looked away. "I just wanted to speak to you once more and to make you trust me again."

"But if you weren't trying to start a war and you were on board to meet me again, then why couldn't you say so?" Cagalli demanded. "Why couldn't you just tell me there and then?"

"I couldn't." He said gently, rising and moving towards her, leading her back to where they had sat. "Think about it. There was clearly something dangerous happening below deck. If I told you what was going on, you'd have rushed below, without any doubt. And that's what the terrorists would have planned, and that's when you'd have been captured or even killed."

"They've made attempts on my life before." She whispered. "You knew. You recorded those down and even aided them. How can you say I'm safe here? Each time I leave this place, you prevent me from seeing where we are going until we get there. And for those weeks when I was trapped in a room-,"

With some effort, Athrun calmed her down, hushing her by nodding and indicating that he would tell her what his intentions had been.

"How did you know they would try to kill me that night? Or those attempts on my life?" Cagalli asked doubtfully.

"For about a year, I had been making use of a spy to hear of their plans." Athrun informed her. "All I could hear was rough, almost estimated hearsay. That was why the incidents you survived were such close shaves- they were always a matter of luck and coincidence. If I had somehow arranged for security to be ten times tighter, they would have realised something was amiss and killed the spy."

"And who was the spy?" Cagalli asked in trepidation.

He looked at her straight in the eye. "Lyra Delphius."

Cagalli stared at him in shock, but he continued, knowing that the difficulty of continuing was not as painful as letting any doubt linger.

"I met her some time during my second year on the Isle. She operated a small flower stall while keeping in contact with some other girls from the brothel she'd grown up in." Athrun seemed to become more withdrawn. "Lyra convinced the brothel owner that she could earn more money doing a legitimate business. When I met her, I paid and redeemed her. She was indebted to me and I was lonely, and we started a relationship. She reminded me of you, a little at times. But she was very different, very strong-minded, of course, but more quiet and haunted by the world."

"Lyra Delphius."Cagalli said, entranced by the name.

"She was the only one who called me Athrun here." He said quietly, regretfully. "I asked her to."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want her to love a person I hated."

"Rune Estragon." Cagalli said, understanding finally.

He gazed at her. "And also because I couldn't stop myself from wanting to remember you."

He stood up, pacing. She reached out, pulling him back, trying to steady him. "All I could think of when I first met her was you."

Cagalli said slowly, fighting the twinge of pain and jealousy, "I knew you must have been with someone who looked similar by the end of the night at Rochester's."

"Yes." Athrun admitted. "I'm not sure if I was attracted to her by how similar she looked at certain angles and in that light, but I eventually accepted her for who she was. When I met her, she was running a small orchard and flower shop, but she was also having trouble with some thugs at that time."

"Through helping her, I found out that she had been brought up by the local whorehouse and she had narrowly escaped her fate there. At the same time, I realised that she had information about Greyfriars through a friend of hers, who she often met up with. Greyfriars was more than a Coordinator running from radical Naturals- he was also a Danish terrorists who'd rounded up many who wanted independence for Denmark and were willing to do drastic things to earn it. That's when I knew Lyra was of more use to me than I'd ever realised."

He paused, looking at how she was taking it, but her eyes, while wide-open, were guarded. He knew what she was thinking, and he could not help agreeing. He had never deserved Lyra. Athurn had used her in so many ways, never loving her properly even after he had left her. But in a certain way, Athrun reflected, that had been the best thing he had given Lyra- her freedom and his honesty, as she'd demanded of it.

"Was that why you married her?" Cagalli asked quietly.

"I didn't marry her because I wanted more information from her. All that information was coincidence anyway, and she didn't even know the significance of those recounts even at the end." Athrun said tightly. "But my reasons for marrying her were probably worse. As the third year drew to a close, I thought that starting a new life with her would be the final thing to my forgetting the past."

"What was she like as your wife?" Cagalli asked softly. Not really seeing what lay beneath her question, Athrun answered straightforwardly and truthfully.

"I couldn't ask for more. I was never around much, even though I'd given her a small house in a neighbourhood of some other Isle-dwellers with their own bungalows. When I came to her, she never asked where I'd been or why I'd left her for two months. But of course, when we really quarreled over anything, it was over the things I could not reveal to her. My past, the people I worked with-,"

"And that took a toll on the marriage?" She said softly. Cagalli recalled all she'd done to Athrun and knew with a sinking heart, that she could not compare to Lyra, who'd given unconditionally.

"Yes, if you could call it one at all." Athrun answered, not sensing Cagalli's sadness. "At times, I couldn't bear to bring harm to her by being near her, and I kept away from that house- from that life I still wanted. If the wrong people realised that she was my wife and that she was actually a spy for me, she would have gotten into a lot of harm. That was the same reason for why I chose to leave her by the end of the fourth year on the Isle. If we hadn't separated, they would have used her against me. But there was also the fact that I had never really loved her for who she was."

"She would have helped you forget the past." Cagalli whispered, more to herself than him. She still could not reconcile with the fact that he had been married. It made her wonder what it might have been like, if she was still back in Orb, and he hadn't come to the Isle but went back to Plant and married someone else there. "You should have left with her after your third year had passed."

"Impossible. I used her while hating myself, aware that I was treating her kindly without even really meaning it. When I bought a small house and set her up somewhere, she was thrilled." Athrun told her reluctantly. "I should have realised then that I was doing something so cruel and so pointless for both of us."

His voice broke a little. "There was also the issue of Zaft planning to use Epstein as a replacement for me. And when the third year ended, I knew I couldn't leave the Isle just yet, because I was also worried about Epstein. With his abilities, he would be more susceptible to Plant's political plans. And while they didn't seem to be planning a war or anything, I didn't want him to do what I'd done on the Isle."

"When they realised that I didn't want Epstein to be my replacement, Plant persuaded me to stay for a while more- indefinitely, in fact. And I agreed, hoping that I would teach Epstein to think for himself and warn him of the dangers of being sucked into ideology that didn't correspond with his own beliefs."

"Did that confuse him?" Cagalli asked quietly. "First you teach him to pilot, to hurt and to kill, and then you tell him not to. Weren't those the same struggles you had to go through?"

"It wasn't easy." Athrun admitted. "Especially since he was set on following my footsteps, as he understood it vaguely, and joining the redcoats as soon as possible. In the second year I was on the Isle, Zaft suddenly promoted him by giving him a FAITH membership and redcoat status all at once." He shook his head. "It was an obvious plot to make me less willing to leave by making Epstein even more fervent about serving the Plants. And when Epstein finally promised me he would not sacrifice his life for Zaft unless he believed he had a good reason for doing so, I planned to leave the Isle with Lyra."

"Then why didn't you?" Cagalli questioned. "That was when your contract had just ended, right? Why did you stay for nearly another four years?"

"Because I learnt of what the terrorists were finally going to try and do as a last resort when the fourth year ended." Athrun said despondently. "I did all I could from where I was-," He cast an eye over the files, "Gathering information and trying to prevent the attacks from working. Of course, it wasn't just through Lyra."

He laughed once. "Of course, the Intelligence Council did the smart thing and told me too. They laid out the facts- that your life was being threatened, that I had a choice of extending my contract and preventing harm from being caused to you, and that an indefinite stay on the Isle was better than leaving and knowing that they'd be risking your life. And they even threw in more pay."

Cagalli saw him smile bitterly and he shook his head. "Because I couldn't watch and let you be brought to be a sacrifice in starting another war, I pledged allegiance to Zaft again. Because I couldn't bear the thought of you dying when I could at least try to save you, I decided to stay on. And because I could not look at Lyra and give her more false hope, I left her."

Cagalli felt tears build in her eyes. "But how could you? She gave you everything, didn't she-?"

"I know." Athrun said heavily. "But I still couldn't love her as more than a friend. I felt guilty for having made use of her. For those reasons, I was determined to not look at you and be moved ever again. That failed too."

No wonder he had been so cold, so removed! Cagalli had automatically assumed it had been because of her betrayal and how she'd ejected him from Orb against his will and his right to stay. But it had run deeper than that.

"Some time after you arrived here," Athrun revealed, "I met her again. All this time, she wasn't even aware of who you were. She was probably some illegitimate child two Isle-dwellers had here and abandoned, as quite a few of them are. Some grow up here as natives, not knowing anything outside it- she's one of them. Even when she died, Lyra never even knew who you were or why I would call out to someone else in my sleep."

"How did she die?" Cagalli ventured to ask. Her fingers were trembling in his.

Athrun looked at her weakly. "Poisoned- the terrorists found out that she had given me information about them and didn't want a weak link. And when I found her, I had to do the same thing I did to Corriolis to put her out of her pain."

She could see it then, the way Athrun must have held Lyra tenderly and then shot her in her heart, looking away because he did not want to see her die by his own hands. That had been the night he had returned to the Manor and held his breath under water, trying to remind himself that he was still human.

While there was only a slight grief in his expression, it was enough indication of his inconsolable state. Athrun would never forgive himself for that.

Now, Athrun stood up, pulling her over to him and pressing her body to his as they moved against the sofa. He gently arranged her against him, holding her in his arms, beginning to speak again.

"I left her because I didn't want to put her in anymore risk. But in doing so, I actually destroyed her. I left her unguarded when they must have found her and poisoned her." Athrun told Cagalli.

Her voice was muffled against him, and Athrun knew Cagalli was holding back her tears. "What did you do after you left her?"

"I became the spy myself." Athrun answered steadily. "That's how I knew what they were really doing even in the most minute detail. That's how I knew when to be on the SS Rafael. I did things to ensure their trust, gain their leader's support, and basically became one of them. Eventually, that included shooting Lyra, although they didn't realize that I did it out of mercy and not malice. I couldn't even shed a tear for her, because they would have connected everything almost too quickly."

He sensed her fear and gripped her shoulders, his eyes earnest and his face pale.

"I joined them so I could see you again." Athrun said, his voice tense. "I know you will push me away for telling you this. To have met you that night, I went through years of helping them. I needed to convince the Danish terrorists that I was on their side, and that I believed in their cause. It would have been very difficult convincing them that I supported their cause in terms of the ideology, since I'm obviously not a Danish nationalist. Instead, I offered them a business proposal."

He smiled, and it was filled with loathing and misery. His eyes could not look into hers.

"I agreed to fund their research into explosives and chemical weapons as long as the shared the information with me and the companies I had acquired to make these weapons." Athrun told her.

She did recoil from him, and he fought back the guilt and hurt even. Her voice was shaking. "I haven't heard much that I can trust completely about what's going on in Scandinavia. But I know they've killed schoolchildren with their explosions and protests. How could you work with people who'd kill innocent ones?"

"At that time, I realised that if I could learn what they were doing, I could mitigate those while pretending to be collecting information for them about you." He said wearily."It was more effective than refusing to work with them. And they accepted me into their circle, not so much as one of them, but a sponsor, if you like. But I knew that they wanted to kidnap you, kill you for their cause, even."

Athrun breathed deeply, and she knew how difficult his years had been, filled with secrets that were being spilled to her now, in a single hour.

"I told them that I knew how to bring you back to the Isle." He said softly, brushing his lips against her ear. "And how to make you go without much of a struggle. They liked this offer, because they knew they had roughly two hundred other bodyguards to deal with that night. There were about fifty very important, high-profile guests on the SS Maverick and fending off the bodyguards required nearly all their efforts. It made more sense to assign one person to find the Orb Princess and tranquilize her."

"You were that person." Cagalli said, realising how the events had transpired that night. "But surely, they must have known that you had other motivations for volunteering for such a job."

"I also convinced them that they needed me, and not vice versa. It was set up as a business proposal. Given that I had once been your bodyguard and knew your combat weaknesses, it would be simple to disarm you and hand you over to them. That's why I was allowed to go along with them to the SS Rafael that night."

"That's insane!" Cagalli cried, thinking of the sacrifices he must have made. "You would have had to wait here, living here alone, waiting for an opportunity to present itself, working with people you hate, those terrorists who wanted to capture me. You worked with them and then betrayed them just so I would be by your side! What were you thinking, Athrun?"

"That I'd be damned if I let you die without me meeting you again." He said patiently. "They would have killed you if I didn't convince them that using you as a live captive would capture more fear. I persuaded them that if you died rightaway, a thousand other terrorist groups would claim they'd done it."

He looked at her wanly. "I toyed with the idea of bringing you to me before they could lay their hands on you. To do that, I flouted the rules of the Isle. Long before I met you on the SS Rafael, I switched a pen you got for a present to watch out for possible threats to you."

"But that means that you betrayed the terrorists." Cagalli said in surprise. "For one, you did bring me back to the Isle, but I wasn't handed over to them. You kept me in your manor for all that time."

"I've told you already." Athrun said firmly. "I wanted you with me. My original plan was to abandon the game I was playing with Greyfriars. I was also prepared to flee from the Isle and Zaft's duties. Basically, I was going to be a double-crosser that night, except that you shot yourself first."

She paused, tensing a little. "So you did bring me here for your own reasons then."

"Perhaps." Athrun conceded. "That night, when you were on the royal yacht, I came to you. During that time, they hijacked the yacht. I was there, pretending to aid them in capturing you. But I wanted to ensure your safety from them. By sheer luck, you went to the deck and I followed."

"No wonder you tried to convince me from returning to the halls, where they must have been looking for me." Cagalli muttered. "You knew what was happening all along. Letting me go below deck would have been me rushing into the crossfire."

"You actually wanted to," He said dryly. "Good god. You're lucky in so many ways, Cagalli. You've escaped death so many times."

Cagalli shivered. "What about the locked car and the records you kept of the years before I went to the Isle? What happened that day?"

"You were meant to die on that day." He said heavily. "You never even realised that someone was looking out for you through Shinn. You thought it was a coincidence, didn't you? The person who sent Aaron there was Shinn because he asked to speak to you, remember? You never realised Shinn was there for a reason."

She stared, her eyes growing wider.

"But that's not all." He said slowly. "If I told you of every attempt they made, you would never sleep well again. After I understood that they were tired of trying to get you in Orb, but wanted to kidnap you and sacrifice you for their curse, I knew I had to save you first."

She shook her head, trying to take in everything. "So you've been fending off people away from the Manor, the same terrorists who have been trying to capture me again?"

"Yes." Athrun said directly. "And that was why I couldn't let you out of the Manor. If they had caught sight of you, it would have been all for nothing."

"And why did you forbid me from knowing anything about the Isle?" Cagalli demanded. "If you had explained it to me-,"

"True. You would have trusted me more," Athrun admitted. "But I couldn't give away the secrets of all the asylum-seekers, no matter how much I despised some of them. If information were to leak out that they were here, not just some anti-Coordinator naturals would want their blood. Even some Coordinators want them dead."

She nodded, accepting his reasons."And there is another obvious reason why. If the terrorists realised that I knew the location of the Isle, they and even the Isle-inhabitants would have killed me."

He nodded.

"That's what nearly happened." Cagalli said ruefully, finally understanding. "Because you didn't hand me over although you'd agreed to, they thought you might have revealed some kind of information to me. So they sent a person here to kill me."

She was feeling a terrible weight on her chest, but she embraced it gladly because she was finally understanding Athrun.

He reached a pale hand out to her and she flinched, but he stroked her face very gently with the back of his hand. "At one point, they were sure that you had found out. They knew that we had once been lovers. I told them that to convince them that I could bring you back here in one piece. My plan, as you know, was to defect and hide you away. But you hurt yourself, and I had to bring you to the Isle. During that time, they grew suspicious and thought I'd told you of them. Decant Corriolis was sent in to kill you for that reason."

He hung his head, and her heart ached for him. Slowly, she caressed his face with her hands and held it up to her, looking into his eyes.

"I didn't want to kill him." Athrun muttered. "But I couldn't let them kill you. Not then- not when they insisted that I hand you over to them once you had recovered. How could I let go of you when I had only just met you again? I couldn't. I invented excuse after excuse, reason after reason to justify why I had to keep you with me. Greyfriars has been buying those excuses for a long time now, even when his followers are starting to get impatient."

"What did you tell them?" Cagalli asked, pale-faced.

"It started off with you being injured and medical attention being required. When you had recovered, I told them I was extracting information from you, and got them to believe me. But it grew more and more difficult."

There was suffering in his face, and she thought of a lion she had seen in a circus cage as a child. Its face was unflinching as the circus master flicked his whip, but the sorrow in its face had something of a blind and mute pain in it. A pain nobody except the beast could understand but not tell anyone of.

He kissed her forehead. "The Isle is a place for those who want to leave their pasts behind them, for those who can afford to lave their pasts behind them and buy a new identity. I bought mine with the freedom I might have had for nearly seven years."

"A new life?" She questioned. She looked around at the place. "This?"

"That's what I wanted to believe."He said, with a strange look coming into his face."I bought my identity by giving up a life as Athrun Zala. You saw those letters Kira sent, didn't you? I stopped contact with him and Lacus a week before I came here. I've not kept in contact with them or anyone from the past since then. Those who come to The Isle all do the same. They buy new names and new lives with money, perhaps, and the opportunities they might have had as themselves."

His fingers wound themselves into her hair and he gazed into her face. "The life I would have led as Athrun Zala had little freedom in itself. I would have spent my time serving the High Council when in reality; they would have only doubted me for as long as I lived."

"But as Rune Estragon, you have to distance yourself from the rest of the world," Cagalli argued, "Alone, here-,"

"Don't you do that as well?" He said musingly. "As the Orb Princess? Isn't it fitting that we both meet here again, and that we now know each other as Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha?"

Cagalli bit her lips. "I still think you should have left with Lyra, and maybe, warned me outside The Isle. Or you might have contacted Plant and gotten them to contact me."

"I couldn't." He said dryly. "Plant can't get involved with Scandinavia openly. You know that. Or the Isle either."

It was true. In the state of foreign affairs, Plant was tiptoeing around most of Earth Alliance and Orb's affairs. Forcefully entering the Earth Alliance territories was certainly going o be dangerous enough for another war to start. It was even more difficult that Scandinavia did not acknowledge the existence of terrorists, and so Plant could not enter it without a valid reason to.

"And everybody on The Isle is a Coordinator or of Coordinator descent. Every last one of them."

"Even the terrorists?"

"Even them. And the Earth Alliance would not have liked Plant dealing with any of their colonies- nobody wants to quarrel. If Plant tried to seize the Isle, it would seem like Plant trying to regain a pocket of Coordinators and a nice piece of Earth's territory as well. You know how dangerous that is."

She nodded, trying to absorb everything and the burden he had carried for so long.

"I contacted Plant, nonetheless. I was persuaded to stay on so that I could infiltrate the terrorists' circle and influence their decision in kidnapping you. But to do that, I had to gain their trust, and Rune Estragon funded their research activities. Of course, the funds were secretly part of Plant's work. I left Lyra because I did not want to pull her down in this. And eventually, I gained enough trust from Greyfriars, and that was how I appeared with them that day, on the SS Rafael."

"If they were so eager to bring attention to the cause," Cagalli said doubtfully, "Why me? Any other high-profile figure, even those within Scandinavia, would have achieved the same purpose."

"They did try that." Athrun said regretfully. "But it was silenced."

"There was the Crown Princess' husband-," Cagalli recalled.

"The terrorists realized that anyone less important or less internationally-recognized than the Orb Princess was ineffective. The Swedish Royals ultimately control what information goes in and out of Scandinavia." Athrun told her. "Remember how the previous terrorist attacks were always silenced? It took a whole schoolhouse massacre for any drip of information to leave Scandinavia."

"Oh-," She remembered. "Yes."

"But nobody can deny the Orb Princess' disappearance," Athrun said confidently. "And in fact, there is no better way to bring world attention to a very small region in Scandinavia by taking an international figure there."

"Would they have killed me if you'd handed me over?" Cagalli whispered.

"They already decided to shortly after I brought you to the Isle. After all, your role had been completed. Orb was going to storm into Scandinavia to find you, and for the first time in ages, Orb was in a dispute with Earth Alliance. They had no more need of you, as the man who came into your bedroom said- if anything, you would be a hindrance if you returned to Orb at all. They'd already achieved their end by bringing you to the Isle, through me."

She shuddered, thinking of how vehemently Athrun had kept her from returning. He'd done everything in his power to keep her from escaping, knowing that she had no way of doing it without being caught by the terrorists first and dying for it. She had not understood him then, but now she did.

"I couldn't ship you back to Orb secretly either. If you were back in Orb, the whole world would know you were safe. That would have been openly double-crossing the group I'd sworn allegiance to." He said quietly. "They would have killed me. I was afraid to die because I would never meet you and tell you what you meant to me ever again."

She thought of how impatient his kisses had been when she'd first arrived, how he'd forced the truth out of her, how desperately he had reacted when she had lost her speech after witnessing a murder. How many had Athrun killed for the purpose of protecting her?

"I thought you were harming me." Cagalli confessed. "That I was just another obstacle in your path to something you wouldn't even let me know about. I was so confused and hurt with all the secrets- and I never understood why you brought me here and why you locked me in that room for that period of time."

He knew he didn't have to explain anymore about the refugees he'd brought into his house. It was enough that she understood this much. Anymore would be unncecessary, and his telling her about Erik Strumsson and the Halfs the Isle had received would only make her want to leave sooner. Athrun looked at her and realized that even now, he was afraid of her leaving when he needed her so much.

She was tracing his lips with her fingers, her eyes lowered, and her breath warm against his. He took away those hands, staring at Cagalli.

"I knew that I wanted to be the one who met you on the yacht that night, and that I wanted to tell you that I was innocent and I'd never killed anyone in Orb. I wanted you to accept me again and to let me save you- to bring you away to Lyon, where I'd hoped you'd be safe for some time. But I never wanted to hurt you." His voice broke.

She brought her arms around him, finally able to grasp what it meant to love Athrun Zala.

Cagalli kissed him, trying to feel him respond against her, and slowly, he began to reciprocate. She whispered, "You've always done everything for me, haven't you? You came here because of me, and you stayed here because of me. Every person you had to kill, you did it to protect me. Look at me, please, I-,"

He gazed at her and saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Athrun brushed them away with his fingers, stroking her face, and she whispered, "I want to live for you. You've lived for me, all these years- I want to do the same for you."

"You already have,' He said firmly, "Every time you put your arms around me and told me that you belonged to me, I knew I was doing what I was meant to do. I was meant to be used by you, to be given to you, I resisted but I failed so many times- I'd always return to you even if you cast me aside."

"You belong to me." She told him, smiling faintly. "You belong to me now, and I won't let you leave me even if you want to."

And Athrun raised his hand to her, stroking her mouth with his thumb, his other fingers framing her face. "I'm not going anywhere if you don't."

His voice had lost its ability to remain toneless and now it hurt her to hear him address her with more tenderness than she deserved.

She held his hand, pressing it to her cheek. "You've been alone all this time, haven't you? Here on the Isle, waiting for that night when you took me back here. You were always afraid to let me know anything about the place, and about you. But both our plans failed."

"Yes," He said roughly, drawing her into his arms, his heart swelling with emotion and anguish. "I had only thought of your safety at first. I knew I couldn't convince them to leave you alone- the best I could do was to convince them that a live captive served their purposes, rather than a person who any terrorist group would claim they'd killed if they managed to. So I volunteered to help them bring you back, and then I brought you to my Manor instead of theirs, to keep you safe. But then I began to feel for you again, and I couldn't let anyone else have you."

She pulled herself away, although not entirely. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but there was the same strength in her face and her mouth was pleading and trembling. He had a hold on her, Cagalli understood. A thread that bound them together, a thread she'd tried to cut so many times before. But not anymore.

Without a word, she knelt, reaching for the last button on his shirt, giving in to the inexplicable heat and lust in her. But it was more than that- it was not mere desire but need now. And Cagalli undid it, and moved to the one above it. His fingers found hers, and their eyes stared at each other.

"Let me be with you." Cagalli beseeched him, "I want to please you. I don't want anything in return. Just let me be by your side, even if you begin to hate me during this hour or after that."

"No." Athrun said gently, pulling her hands away from his waist. "You were right for refusing to let me take all of you for each contract we made. I can't do this to you."

"But I'm not asking to return to Orb." Cagalli begged. She looked up at him, and he saw that her lower lip was quivering with emotion. "I'm only asking that you take me and let me please you for once."

He stared at her, and she kissed him hesitantly.

It was nevertheless powerful and evocative and he found himself being explored by her, a fearlessness in the way she parted his lips with hers, pulling him even closer. Good lord, what could a man do with someone like her?

He let go of her fingers, cupping her waist as she dutifully slid her hands under his shirt, one after the other, and peeled his top above and away from him. As she set it beside them on the couch, Athrun tried to refuse her again. He placed a hand on hers and shook his head mutely.

Her eyes dimmed but stubbornly, Cagalli drew near once more.

While the room was unheated and the lack of a shirt made this clearer, he felt feverish with her stroking his abdomen and chest with her palms, kissing his shoulder and pressing herself towards him. She would not give in to his reluctance.

More intently now, he shifted her aside, ignoring the roar of disapproval his body sent with the distance he created between them. Athrun looked at her cautiously. "You-,"

"I want you to." She whispered. "We've never before. We were too young to know what we were doing then. We were too silly chasing wars and power for the sake of our dead fathers."

"Cagalli." He said softly, with hesitation, "We shouldn't do this, you shouldn't-,"

She trembled, still pressing her mouth to his shoulder. Her eyes were wide and golden, and she reached to his thigh, stroking his flesh through the material of his pants with her soft hand. "Why? I can, so why shouldn't I?"

Athrun turned away from her, trying to steel himself and the flush of warmth and desire that was beginning to spread from every crevice of his body.

"It's not the same anymore." She said steadily. "I know who you are now, and I'm sober enough to know what I want. I'm not trying to satisfy myself and try to forget you by having some kind of fling that puts the past to sleep. We're not reviving the past- not when we're in the present now."

Still, Athrun shook his head a little, and her voice shook.

"Why?" Cagalli said tremblingly. "I don't want anything in return for this, I only want you to love me. I know I'm not like anyone you must have had in the past, but I-,"

His voice was harsh as he interrupted her. "Don't you dare compare yourself to the others."

She looked away, thinking of the selflessness that Lyra had shown him even while Cagalli had forced him into such pain. Even the other women he had loved for a few hours would probably have given him more than what Cagalli could ever give.

And she bit her lips, trying not to cry.

His hand found its way to her cheek as he made her look at him. His voice was still rough, but his eyes were tender. "You're worth more than all of them put together."

Then delicately, he took her face to his, laying a kiss on her lips. In the back of his mind, Athrun was aware that the scent of his musky cologne on the cardigan had mixed with her lighter, more floral scent, and the combination on her skin was irresistible. He'd vaguely noticed it when he'd wrestled it off her earlier, and now the creamy flesh of her arms made him shiver.

He ran his fingers along each bare shoulder as she closed her eyes, breathing shakily. He unbuttoned her dress with deft fingers, kissing her now and not breaking away. While Cagalli desponded eagerly, deepening the kiss, she felt his fingers shift to her waist, pulling apart the dress. Blushing, she reached for his belt and began pulling it away, and she flung it to the couch in response to his undressing her.

He bent and began to kiss her forehead, a gentle, chaste kiss. But then, Athrun could not resist pulling her to him, catching her in his arms and deepening the kiss he laid on her lips once more.

As Cagalli busied herself with exploring his mouth, he found the clasp at her back and undid her brassiere, slowly pulling it off her chest and arms, then throwing it to the couch. It joined the other articles of clothing they had already freed each other of. Then she pulled herself away, gazing at him, blushing slightly, shielding her bareness with her hands, which proved less than sufficient.

"What's the matter?" Athrun said, a bit tensely.

She only shook her head slightly, looking bashful as she moved off the couch slowly, then knelt. Her voice was trembling a little, although he did not think much of it. "I'm supposed to do this now, aren't I?"

He did not sense her unsureness because he was already enraptured with her. Athrun got up too and stepped forward slowly, her fingers reached to undo his pants and he felt them pool at his knees. But Cagalli lowered them even more to his ankles, and she sat up a little more in her kneeling position.

She began reaching out to stroke him while she rested and rubbed her cheek against his left thigh. As she grasped and rubbing at him, he groaned, balancing the weight of her head against his hip a little more with the help of his left arm. But he made a decision and pushed her by her shoulders.

Breathing unsteadily, Cagalli felt her back thud soft against the furs of the carpet and felt him kneel next to, then over her. She blushed, a little embarrassed. Shifting down now, he parted her thighs and began kissing her abdomen.

Athrun heard her laugh nervously, and he whispered huskily, "What's the matter now?"

Cagalli murmured, "Wasn't I supposed to-,"

"That can wait." He said swiftly, running his fingers over his hips. He tugged at the remaining article of clothing she wore, hearing her gasp a little, and that made him pause. "I rather do this first. But shall I stop?"

He felt her shake her head. "No, I didn't mean that-,"

Her hands shifted his head to her, and teasingly, he licked at her, knowing that she was unlikely to be satisfied with that. True enough, she started shivering again, and he caved in as she pleaded with him in strange, soft sounds that were partially-formed words. He brought his mouth closer to her, tasting, stroking, locating her sensitive nub as she trembled with sensation, too impatient to pull the cloth from her legs completely. Her little sounds of gratification grew louder, and she hissed, slick with desire.

He whispered, "Tell me what you're thinking."

She shifted a little, hands by her head, palms facing the ceiling. She leaned her head back fitfully as she gazed towards him. "I-," Her voice caught and she gasped quietly once, her eyes feeling wet with pleasure. "It feels right."

"Good," He whispered, touching her again. Then Athrun was exploring her as she'd intended to do to him, aware of every pant and murmur that spilled from her lips, a thousand times more sensitive to every spasm that she experienced as she reared violently.

She leaned back, gasping quietly, twisting suddenly and then becoming still. She watched him move away, and she was aware that her cheeks were burning, even though she had experienced this with him before.

But Athrun, thankfully, did not quite catch her sudden awkwardness. Instead, he knelt above her, looking hesitantly at her. Now, she felt Athrun moving up to her. Her voice was hushed, and she parted her lips to whisper. "Come closer to me."

Hissing a little, Athrun got up to stand and undress entirely now, kicking aside the pants to a place he cared little about. When he dropped himself to his knees, coming closer as she'd asked, he pressed himself against her lips, bidding her to touch him. She was already parting her lips, and her tongue was stroking all she could manage, her mouth tasting and swallowing him as he groaned.

As she gazed into his eyes and he rooted his hands in her hair and cried out, she nibbled, grazing him with her teeth. When she focused on him, her tongue wrecking havoc, he reached beneath to her head, pressing her closer to him. Kneeling there, he cracked open one eye, watching her as she brought her head up a little more, his hands cradling the back of her head. Her hands were splayed on his thighs, his knees hard against the carpet because he was kneeling, her mouth and her lips teasing and baiting him. Her hands were gentler and more tentative than what he'd expected, but that change made him desire her even more.

It didn't occur to him that she was nervous, and even if he sensed it a little, he didn't think it was abnormal for Cagalli, who had only just learnt of the secrets he'd kept within this room for so long. While she touched him, Athrun closed his eyes, lost to the sensations of her soft palms rubbing against him.

Inevitably, Cagalli remembered how he reacted when she had done this with him. Panicking inwardly, she tried to remember what had followed next when she'd taken peeks at some chapters she had really been supposed to skip in that archive of sensational stories she'd borrowed from Aaron. But her mind drew a blank even as Athrun made a small, desperate sound of pleasure and shifted away from her.

"Forgive me," He said softly, cradling her. "I know you're another person's, but I can't stop now, I-"

Cagalli looked up at him, her expression a bit unsure, but something undeniably sultry about her eyes. "I've never wanted anyone else, except you." She moved her hand from his hardened thigh to hold him again, making him shiver with need and anticipation.

She sat up as he moved away, still on his knees, then laid carefully by her side. He smiled a little at her and she tried to return it even thought her heart seemed to be pounding against her throat, and flustered, she resumed touching him. She kept her hands gentle against him, watching him close his eyes and lie back, her head resting on his chest, and she hoped it would buy her some time to remember what to do.

He seemed to be shivering a little, and suddenly, a nervous thought struck at Cagalli. Her touch seemed to be igniting the impatience that he had controlled up until now. Contrary to what she had hoped, his body did not relax but seemed to become tenser. She looked at the straight lines of his form, the cruelness of his silhouette despite its lean, almost slim appearance, and the body that was capable of crushing and tearing others apart. Nervously, she tried to bring her hand away, suddenly unsure of how to continue.

But Athrun was certainly not keen on that, for he opened his eyes, using his right hand to hold her hand firmly in place.

She only looked at him, her cheeks rosy and asked shyly. "What should I do next?"

That question was not the first one she had asked, and in surprise, he stared at her. There was something frightened and unsure about her that he could not ignore anymore. Was it really simple nervousness, Athrun wondered? She had cast her eyes away from his, and he could not read her expression, but he sensed that the last of a façade she had possibly worn had vanished.

He considered what she she'd said all over again, and then in amazement, Athrun articulated his thoughts, "You've never done this before?"

She looked away, afraid. "Not with anyone- no. I've haven't done anything actually, with anyone."

"But-," He said hoarsely, "You told me that Marlin-,"

"I lied." Cagalli said shakily. "I knew you were jealous of him and that made you agree to the contract. But if I told you that I hadn't been with another, you wouldn't have touched me, would you? You wouldn't have wanted me if another man hadn't already taken me. How else could I make you trade the information?"

Athrun began to laugh quietly, then louder until he was shaking with the thought of how silly she had been, and yet, how cleverly she had managed to incite jealousy in him even then.

But Cagalli stared at him, confused, and he hastened to explain. "You thought I wouldn't want you if you were inexperienced?"

Then he pulled her towards him and laid her on the carpet, resting a cushion under her head. Her eyes gazed into him, and she whispered, "Was I wrong?"

"Very." He said tenderly, stroking her lips and tracing her mouth. "It wouldn't make a difference. I've always wanted you."

"But I've never done this before," She said, gasping as he laid next to her and bit slightly into her neck. His hands were moving over her, causing dozens of little fissions of heat to build agonizingly under her skin. "I'm not sure if I can please you."

He raised himself over her and his hair covered the sides of his face like a curtain of midnight. Intrigued by how beautiful he was, Cagalli reached up and wound her fingers in his hair.

Athrun's voice was a whisper. "Were you afraid all this time?"

She nodded. And in a husky tone but somewhat understandingly now, Athrun kissed her cheek and spoke. "I see. So what do you know about what we're about to do?"

Cagalli coloured, wondering how to broach the subject. But he was being so straightforward, so gentle, and so candid that she found no room to be unnecessarily embarrassed. "I don't know much, except that- that- men don't like inexperienced partners-," She trailed off in a whisper, utterly losing her boldness now.

He laughed gently, kissing her forehead. "Who's been telling you old wives' tales? That was only spun up to frighten daughters from being too eager to jump into bed with any hormonal boys who showed interest in them."

Athrun leant closer, holding her face in his hands as he looked directly at her. Her heart was thumping, and they could both sense her apprehension, but his next words set her at ease. "Don't look at me like I won't be here with you in the morning, and don't look at me like I'd ever push you away, now that you've agreed to be here with me."

She shivered, trying to come to terms with what she had understood so far. "But the first time will always hurt, and won't that make it a turn-off?"

He smiled humorously. "Maybe. I've never really thought about it."

"That's because you're not female." Cagalli said pointedly.

He laughed candidly. "If you really want me to admit it, I can vouch that my first time was a mess. But that didn't make me a social outcast or a convict or something. It's just another old wives' tale, I suppose."

"Damn you Aaron!" She cried in embarrassment, realizing she'd revealed the full extent of her ignorance. "All that chick-lit with the unreal, mind-blowing encounters! I should have known all that was fiction anyway!"

And awkwardly, she looked at Athrun, who began to chuckle disarmingly and spoke. When he did, his voice was a sensual whisper that sent thrills everywhere in her body. "I can tell you what's not fiction though."

"What?" She said unsurely.

"That I need you." He said simply. As Athrun trailed kisses over her shoulder now and bit a little into her neck, she moaned but twisted away, looking at him with wide, slightly apprehensive eyes. "After this- does it get rougher?"

"Were you afraid that I would hurt you?" He said teasingly, letting go of her momentarily and propping himself on one bent elbow to stare at her.

Cagalli nodded eagerly, almost keen to confirm that she had not listened to a drunk and possibly crazy Aaron in vain. "I've heard stories that frightened me- even when they concerned experienced girls. The secretary for one of the ministers often comes into the office with bruises and cuts and she says those are accidents and rope burn marks and-." She trembled, looking at him wide, frightened eyes, clearly put off by the horror stories she'd heard without realising those were exceptions.

"I won't. I'd never." Athrun assured her, cutting her off by pressing a finger to her lips. He pursed his mouth slightly, thinking how awful it had been for Cagalli. To have been frightened out of her wits and never having the pleasure of making love with someone she had liked or been attracted to- that was unthinkable.

Still, he found a tiny bit- or more accurately, huge- satisfaction at realising he would provide Cagalli her first experience. When he had slept with inexperienced partners, Athrun had never cared much for their nervousness or lack of knowledge when it came to bed matters. He had mostly preferred partners who knew what lovemaking was to entail. With Cagalli however, he found her innocence intriguing- vitally intoxicating even, and he felt a frisson of pleasure at knowing he would teach her to love him.

He berated himself inwardly, knowing that he was being horribly chauvinistic with that thought. But he couldn't have helped it, Athrun realised. There was something about her that made him extraordinarily possessive, and he was glad that she was allowing him to be.

"I'm being honest now," Cagalli blurted out and making him laugh again. "I don't know much, so don't be disappointed. And- and," Her face turned pink for a second. "J-Just go easy on me!"

"Did you mean literally or metaphorically?" He asked huskily, smirking at her.

She stared at him indignantly, then laughed once and smacked his shoulder playfully.

He hugged her tightly, whispering, "I'd never do something as stupid as push you away. I've done that once before. Idiotic, really." She embraced him back, giggling a little in her nervousness. The atmosphere was as Athrun had never experienced it- friendly, entirely sincere.

But it was time to change that a little, as Athrun was clearly intending. Athrun moved over her then, and she could feel him trembling violently, growling in low, unsteady gasps as his lips travelled up her neck. She felt his hardness pressing against her belly then thigh, but desire overcame the first tremor of fear. He drew his head back, braced on his elbows as he looked down at her, and his hands framed her face gently, holding her still to look in her eyes.

Cagalli found difficulty breathing. All she could do was run her trembling fingers down his spine, and her legs against his, wrapping them around his waist intuitively. Then roughly, he ran his mouth from her lips to her chin and neck, nipping and biting, and she cried out.

Her foot stroked his calf in tormented pleasure, trying and she felt the heat gather between her legs as he sat up suddenly, pulling her up with him. He shifted to her back, and over her shoulder, gazed at her chest while easing her shoulders to calm her down.

Appreciating his efforts to make her relax, but not quite aware of what he was really doing, Cagalli closed her eyes, leaning back against his chest as she knelt, her knees sinking into the thick furs of the carpet. It was an unconscious lesson she was learning, however. He was teaching her to respond to him, and in doing so, he was preparing her for him. While he eased her shoulders and back, she made murmuring sounds, enjoying his touch.

Athrun too, was enjoying himself quite thoroughly. He ran his hands as a wordless caress against her front, over and over again, pausing only for her breasts. When she opened her eyes as she felt him slacken his administrations, Cagalli caught sight of how Athrun staring silently at her her. A little embarrassed at his open admiration, she grinned at him and said laughingly, "Well? Are you going to just stare?"

He smirked, she felt a delicious throb of danger move within her. "And here I was, thinking that I would have to go easy on you."

"You still have to." Cagalli said cheekily, imitating his smirk and surprising him. She lifted her arms and wound them around his neck, and his chin's weight increased on her shoulder as he kissed her neck. "While what I know isn't everything, what I know isn't exactly useless either.

"Absolutely." He breathed, gazing at her side-turned face and thinking how beautiful she looked, her hair framing her face, tousled and golden, and her eyes molten with lust.

And slowly, almost as if he wanted to prolong the agony of her waiting, Athrun transferred her to look at him, and lowered his head. His hand still kneading her, he ran his tongue down the valley of her breasts and heard her gasp as he cupped her breasts tightly.

"You're mine," He said softly, in that sensuous murmur. A tiny moan eased itself from her throat as he fiddled with her tenderly, playing harder and harder until her cries were satisfactory to his ears. "And I won't stop. Everything we did was a prelude to this, Cagalli. Everything I did, everything you allowed me to do was preparing you for what we will share. You didn't even realize it, did you? Everything I chose to do that you allowed- that was to prepare you for me, for you to let me take you like this, with you knowing, with you wanting because you understood-,"

He caressed her breasts with both hands, and stroking one bud still, slipped a hand down between her legs, his eyes gazing momentarily at the remaining article of clothing she still wore, even when he'd pulled it down to her knees earlier. Athrun heard her moan and shifted slightly.

"You don't like it?" Athrun said huskily, wantonly caressing the nipple he was occupied with still. They could become engorged with even the lightest caress of a feather, and he wondered how she could dip herself into a pool of cold water without having a towel right next to her to disguise her body's reaction. He felt himself grow, if possibly, tighter.

She mewled in the heat of the sensation and her breasts trembled temptingly as her body did. He fought the urge to hold her breasts still with his hands while the rest of her body writhed against the soft carpet.

"Athrun," She begged, "Please-oh, I,"

"Patience," He said lazily. He tweaked at her less gently now, and she arched her back in a heady pleasure.

"You like what I'm doing, don't you?"He said deliberately, bending down and kissing the bud lightly but not giving it more than a fleeting brush against his lips. His other hand was still stroking her gently.

Cagalli nodded feverishly, and he smiled.

"Like this?"

He moved closer to the other nipple and ran his tongue slowly across its point, knowing that of the nerves lay under it, like a complex system of wiring that led to the tug of electricity at her core.

Her hands were pushing his head closer, but he refrained.

Cagalli stared at him, her golden eyes dilated, and not seeing. Her voice was a plea, even if the words would not form. He could not torment her any longer, or keep away from her for any second longer. So he drew her into his mouth, warming it with his tongue and running his tongue over the ruche surface. He drew in a breath forcefully, feeling her quiver, and he felt something in him threaten to explode.

"Athrun," She whispered in a tiny cry. "Like this. Yes."

As she held onto him, he reached to her hips and stripped her panties from her knees completely now, balling those and tossing it somewhere. Her thighs were already wet, and he stroked them, enjoying their slickness.

Cagalli breathed his name, her voice stretched and yearning, and he brought a hand between her thighs, parting them and stroking her to make her relax, his mouth shifting to another bud. Then slowly, he snaked a finger smoothly into her, and then, without hesitation, added another into her as she cried out, panicking a little.

Athrun couldn't help thrusting his fingers roughly and even more deeply into her, a contrast against the even controlled movement he had applied earlier on. His mouth grew more intense on her breast, and she threw back her head, a sound ripping itself from her throat.

He transferred his mouth to her neck now, kissing it. "Relax. Trust me."

She calmed down, stroking his ear by curling her arm towards his face. He resumed his administrations on her breasts, his fingers still moistening and teasing her folds. He marveled at how lovely she was, her breasts full and high on her body, sensitive and soft, then taut and pliable in his mouth within the very next minute.

He added yet another finger into her to stretch her, noting how tightly his fingers were while in her. Cagalli swallowed, trying to adjust to the combined thickness of a few fingers in her, still swiveling her hips. He murmured a reassuring word or two, knowing that he had to familiarize her body to what his would be like. Only when she had become used to him did he pull his hand away.

He brought it to her lips as she tasted her own desire, bringing each finger into her mouth, one by one. She licked his fingers, tilting her head back a little to taste the entire finger. He watched her as he dipped each finger into her velvety mouth and withdrew it. As he did, her lips made a soft, suckling sound, and he had to control the urge to hold her down and enter her there and then. Her eyes were a light shade of gold, swirling and molten as he occupied himself with her breasts and she concentrated on his fingers.

Then, delicately, he brought his lips and tongue to her thighs, and her feet struggled as she writhed in ecstasy. He tried to taste her a little by little, savouring her, recording her responses in his mind, but he found himself lapping at her moist sweetness and the way she flowed, smooth and like honey for his tongue and teeth.

She called his name, an animal's soft, longing cry.

"That's right," He said in a low voice, trembling with desire and tenderness. "I'll make you remember that I was the first man you ever had."

As he raised himself above her, she glanced down and felt slightly fearful, wondering if he would even fit. But he lifted her face back to him, and his slight smile made his intent clear. He wanted her to remain looking at him.

Then she felt him press against her, entering her, tearing into her, filling her, and far too slowly. A cry of pain shot from her, and small, sudden and uncontrollable tears suddenly flowered from her eyes' corners.

But Athrun swiftly wiped them away, knowing that she was still riding on the lingering effects of pleasure and that the pain was both diminished and fading fast. He ignored the urge to plunge deeper into her to fulfill his own heat.

At that moment, she bucked against him, effectually tightening around him, and he shuddered. She heard Athrun's breath catch, but he never broke eye contact, not yielding to her body's shock. Athrun bent over her as she move uncontrollably, her body still instinctively trying to reject and throw his own body off hers. But hands were occupied with holding hers down, and she flailed against him, her strength quite surprising.

Roughly, he kissed her, biting her lips when she tried to break away with the pain of his entering her. Cagalli was still fighting him uncontrollably, crying out in pain and involuntarily trying to throw him off her, but he had been well-prepared, holding her wrists down by both sides of her head.

Her small cries of pain seemed to melt past everything, putting only the pleasure he was experiencing into focus. She felt amazing, moist and incredibly tight and like a burning noose around him. He wondered if the nerves in his body were exploding, but he forced himself to be still, focused on her, for her face was scrunched and he saw that she was biting her lips.

His whispers of reassurance were almost incoherently in his desire. Athrun found that he, or perhaps even she, for it was indistinguishable at this point, was twitching uncontrollably, his body enclosed by her walls. And he was afraid, for he thought he would come there and then, whether she responded or not. She was sprawled under him, her body soft and glorious in the furs of the carpet.

There had to be some kind of release. She was burning, perishing in the heat, and her nerves were charred, yet far too sensitive even when she was struggling. Cagalli sobbed once, and she struggled under him, trying to find a way out, an end to the uncontrollable, incomprehensible passion that was threatening to eat her whole.

After what felt like an excruciating eternity, he was as fully within her as she could allow, and through the sweat and dazing heat, Cagalli became aware that fire he had started in her had not died, despite the pain melting away. As she felt him begin to move within her, it elicited a low, needy growl from her throat. Athrun gently let go of her wrists, lingering only momentarily before his lips located her neck so he could nibble. As she felt her body getting used to his, she relaxed a little, but felt herself tensing again when Athrun licked her thundering pulse with a small smirk.

Obligingly because her own passion was taking control of her, Cagalli gripped him hard, her nails digging into his soft back, her legs tightening around his waist, her hips bucking against his, trying to get him even deeper inside her, even though she was already as full with him as she could be. It was bliss beyond her wildest dreams laced with sheer torture, and the only way out for her and for him, he realised, had been for Cagalli to give in.

He did not say anything, too charged to speak coherently, and within moments, she nodded said shakily, "I'm fine."

"Good." He said softly, with some relief. And Cagalli began to move her hips, dissipating the last effects of the pain and finding the first hints of pleasure. He groaned, trapped in her, embedded in her depths.

And then, quickly, she transited into the wild heat that consumed that both once more, and he was mounting her entirely, sitting astride and in her, and she was moaning and begging him to move faster. She was a tempest, her body liquid and molten, his body awake and alive, tearing into hers, his movements threatening to become erratic, but his will keeping them both in check.

She writhed, and he had to control himself as she grew even tighter around and against him. He groaned softly, wondering when he had lost control and she had become dominant even while grappling with this new experience. But she begged him again, and those dissolved the thoughts in his head. "More."

"No," Athrun said sensuously, still moving at his unhurried, strong pace, not willing to be badgered into ending it too soon. "You'd forget me if I let you have your way immediately."

Her face was beautiful, almost ethereal in the warm light, and he gazed at her expression, understanding that it was contorted with pleasure and feeling. He felt a new stab of lust and possession enter him, and he caressed her face, lifting himself over her with the other. His hands found her breasts as they trembled with the movements of her body, and he kneaded them greedily. This time, Cagalli found his rhythm easily, and Athrun guided her well, building their movements into a frenzied, desperate tango of sensation until she cried out.

The blaze inside encompassed her then and erupted through every pore and cell, exploding in a blinding, intense heat such that the awareness of everything else died. Breathless now, Cagalli cried out, low and hoarse, clinging on as if he were her only hope to keep from completely burning out of existence.

His mouth covered hers in a growl, feral and desperate. And Athrun reached below her simultaneously, cupping her rear and forcing her to move for him even while she climaxed, and his name on her lips melted into his groans of hers. He felt himself losing some consciousness, and saw that her eyes were hazy with the same effect. But he controlled himself and reached down in the height of their frenzy and bit her neck, hearing her ecstasy while vaguely recognizing his own.

He wondered if his blood was flowing backwards, whether his essence was being drawn out of every pore of him, through that small opening that led to the rest of her. His soul and very spirit seemed to be gushing and bubbling out of him, as if he had reached a boiling point. Then he poured himself into her, entirely, and then emptied himself of her in one fluid, pulling movement.

But even when they lay side by side, his kisses and the combination of her desire and his made the familiar heat stir within Athrun again. Her tongue flickered, wet and pink behind her lips, and he felt himself tighten. Cagalli's neck bore his teeth marks, although those would fade within a day. Quietly, Athrun placed a hand on an inner thigh, conscious that he had marked her as his.

"Funny." Cagalli said breathlessly, almost talking to herself. "I never realised it felt this- this wonderful. Was that why the girls in the office kept talking about the times they'd fallen asleep in someone's arms, even though they had so much heartbreak to share about?"

Athrun smiled inquisitively at her. "So you heard the stories from the random people in your office?"

She nodded, a bit embarrassed and blurting the first things that came to her mind because of that. "But I didn't really know what to do- of course, now I know and I'm not without my own experience anymore-,"

He shifted her onto her back and gazed into her eyes as he slid into her once more. Cagalli made a small, wild sound of pleasure and he began to fill her entirely, pushing himself into her until he had filled the cavern of her body entirely. She threw back her head, arching her body with a little cry that spilled from her lips. And Athrun ran his hand to her lips and stroked her face tenderly.

"No." He said quietly. "Now you aren't."

The wild, heightened sensations did not fade, leaving them unsteady, unable to relax into one another. They fought each other for control. As Cagalli raised herself to kiss him, and he gazed at her plump white breasts, like young pups, spruced, wet with perspiration and with pink noses, the blood rushed to his loins once more.

He waited until she'd become comfortable and even confident above him, and then tackled her, dominating her once more. When she finally gave up fighting him, Athrun nipped at her neck, then nuzzled her. Cagalli looked at him, blushing adorably, her eyes were wet with tears, shy and lowered. In that moment, he understood her pain and joy.

She smiled, her voice breathless. "It's the first time I've ever experienced anything like that. All in one day."

"You're not a girl any more." He said deliberately, holding her face in his hands. "You're a woman now. Mine."

She moved against him a little, and with a groan, he knew he could never be satisfied when it came to her. And he grabbed her chin with his fingers.

"You belong to me." He said quietly. "Go on. Say it for me. I belong to Athrun."

"I belong to-," Her voice was ragged with sensual anticipation and endless desire. "To Athrun."

Her answer was enough to make him flood into her even though he hadn't meant to or even expected it. And Cagalli's lips formed a silent 'o' of pleasure and longing as he tried to sink deeper into her. Soon, it was clear that she could not take any more of him and he was deeply and almost entirely in her.

"I'll never let you go." He whispered dazedly. "You belong to me now. All of you."

Athrun raised his head and gazed down at her, brushing a trembling hand against her cheek. Cagalli moved just enough to faintly nuzzle him.

When he could finally move once more, he kissed her gratefully and laid a hand gently on her soft stomach. Eventually he had to let go to stand up he reached into a set of drawers she hadn't managed to get to. And sighing a little, Athrun brought forth a small box and moved back to her.

"What is it?" She whispered, sitting up slightly, still panting even with the little he had done to her. Cagalli was alarmed, he could see, afraid that he had not been satisfied by her.

But the next thing he did allayed her fears entirely. Athrun opened it and her eyes flew from it to his eyes. Without a word, he sat by her and took her hand into his, sliding a ring onto her finger. Her eyes filled with tears and he pressed her hand to his chest, saying hoarsely, "I kept it, but it's yours. It was always yours."

"I gave it to Meyrin!" Cagalli whispered. "Wasn't she the one who'd kept it?"

He shook his head gently, smiling ruefully. "She gave it back to me before I went to Orb. But I never got a chance to give it to you."

"What if-," Her breath caught and Cagalli choked back a sob. "What if I can't wear it for you?"

Athrun made no direct answer but kissed her forehead gently. "It doesn't matter if you'll have to leave me eventually and go back there. It doesn't matter if you go with someone else in the end, as long as you know that I never wanted anything else except to be with you."

Kneeling next to her, Athrun picked up her hand and slid the ring on. With a pang, Cagalli realized how familiar it felt, how much she'd missed having this band of light coolness against her flesh even when she thought she'd long forgotten what it felt like.

And wryly, Athrun added. "But I'm not giving it to you because of what we just had, alright? I meant to when you left for Orb. And even just now, I decided I wanted to bring that forward. I just- just forgot when you looked at me the way you did and asked me to take you."

Cagalli laughed, a happy, shy sound, and brought her arms around his neck. He chuckled too, settling next to her once more. She looked so soft and young, so heartbreakingly innocent and breathtaking that he wondered if he had made a mistake by sealing her to him with how he'd just taken her and placed the ring on her finger. Looking at her, Athrun knew he'd taken her, all of her. It would be impossible to forget her ever again.

He raised himself over her and gazed down. Her arms found his as she moved into his embrace, and she was overcome with the joy of finding him and herself once more. Athrun closed his eyes and gently kissed her forehead, lying down at her side, drawing her to him. Cagalli readily responded, rolling over, snuggling close as she lay her head on his chest, listening to his heart as his pulse gradually tapered off to normal.

Feeling completely sated, and utterly relaxed, it wasn't long before Cagalli drifted off to sleep. The band on her finger sat around the flesh, and she closed her eyes and saw it in her mind's eye. The world around them didn't matter anymore than the first snow falling outside, not visible to their eyes and the lack of a window. In the unheated room, filled with his secrets, they had their warmth for each other, and it was enough.

In the world around her, she had been lost, and in the house, she had been a captive. But in this room, in his arms, Cagalli found him, and Athrun knew that the night would draw softly and tenderly against them, a cloak of protection, a salve to the wounds.

He waited until she had fallen asleep, then quite involuntarily, did the same. But as he did, he could sense her breathe against him, and he knew the snow outside was falling as steadily as her heart beat beneath her flesh.

She had come home.

To him.

* * *

2 months. 15 days.


	23. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 22

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open, and when those refocused, she knew she was alone in his bed.

They'd spent a complete week together, Cagalli thought distractedly, but she should not have expected that to go on indefinitely. After that week, Athrun had left, and he'd been gone for three days.

Yesterday, he'd returned and she'd been overjoyed, but he'd vanished again this morning.

Sitting up, it occurred to her that winter had stained all white beyond the window. He'd closed it, but her bareness made her shiver, and rubbing her arms with her hands, Cagalli looked to the sheets that had covered her before she'd woken up.

At the same time, she spotted what he'd left behind again.

A rose's silk folds were on the pillow he'd occupied next to hers. She picked it up, enjoying its fragrant depths and the scented centre tempting her, directly under her nose.

The nights they'd spent had seemed to be part of a larger tapestry- a painting of other patterns and motifs that she knew the existence of but never seen it coming all together.

It had made sense; she thought a bit wistfully, that Athrun could not have been with her for an uninterrupted time.

Perhaps, he had been even more aware of this than her, although Athrun hadn't brought it up until the night when he'd told her that he wouldn't be here in the morning. But during that week, they spent time greedily, like each hour meant nothing in the face of eternity. But they did not have that.

She stared at petal that loosened itself and fell softly to the sheets, a single drop of red. Each hour was a sand grain of an hour glass neither had the means to change the dimensions of.

For that matter, Cagalli had long discarded hope of ever knowing when the hour glass would be filled with the last speck. If a day felt strangely fast, then the week they'd spent together seemed queerly insignificant in the face of how they'd lived the days wantonly, loving so absolutely and so desperately that it seemed excessive to themselves.

She looked at the blossom. It had been picked in its prime, in a greenhouse that provided it a longer than average life in an artificial environment. It looked more beautiful this way, Cagalli realised, held between a person's fingers and taken into a place that allowed it to see what the real world was really like for once. It would live for a few hours, in this winter air, before withering.

Slowly, she got out of bed, smiling at how her clothes had been folded neatly and put on the bedside table. A pair of slippers were waiting at her side of the bed, and gratefully, Cagalli wore those.

While Athrun was not here, she knew he must have done all this before he'd left. There was the warmth of the sheets and the faint scents of their bodies, as well as a single blood-red rose on the pillow next to hers.

Whenever Athrun left for business, he often did so even in the wee hours of morning. He always did so ever so quietly, like a cat that was afraid of being heard. Naturally, Cagalli scarcely awoke although she would have liked to, if only to be with him for a few more minutes or perhaps even watch him dress and perhaps let her kiss him goodbye so he could start his day.

Athrun had left this morning without a sound. He never wrote a note and left it behind either. What could he have written anyway? While he'd told her everything, Athrun could not say where he worked or why he had to leave at times. Besides, Cagalli thought now, a note telling her he'd be back would have been superfluous.

They both understood that he would come back to her, no matter how long his business took. But if he had to leave without a sound in the morning, he always left a rose on the pillow he had occupied previously.

The small but exquisite blossom that she'd picked with others and put into the vases of their room had been selected by his fingers, placed on his pillow. It was his reminder that despite his leaving, he had thought of her possible uncertainty in the morning.

But Cagalli was not afraid of waking alone anymore, for she understood that Athrun could not afford the mornings with her on every day.

Besides, she thought with a soft smile, the past week they'd spent together was enough to sustain her. Even if Athrun had to return to his businesses, she knew he would come back when he could, just as he had yesterday afternoon.

Before Cagalli took a towel and prepare to take a shower and wash up, she began straightened the sheets first. As she had always done before, she felt compelled to remove signs of her presence in the room, even if it was now theirs. The sheets seemed to want to be put straight, the pillows fluffed and put in order, and the room untouched and distant as it had always seemed to her.

It was an open secret of sorts, she realised, that she slept in Athrun's bedroom and that he had abandoned his study even when he had favoured that as his room of rest in the past.

Morning after morning, she would creep to breakfast only after Athrun had first gone down. That way, the aides would not suspect too much. Of course, she hadn't had to wait for him these past few days, since he wasn't around anyway.

Overall, moving into his bedroom had been a rather strange business, Cagalli decided. The maids had seemed to know of every single development in her and Athrun's relationship- especially the past week that Athrun had passed without going to his office or leaving his bedroom very much.

Had the aides somehow realised that the study that he'd once used as a bedroom had returned to its status of being a mere study? Or had they realised that their master had suddenly became quite attached to a room he'd never really favoured in the past?

Whatever the case, the twins had somehow shifted an entire wardrobe of clothes over and her vanity-table things. In the middle of the week that they'd spent together, Athrun had remarked that their initiative was quite astonishing. But thankfully, his room and vanity table was certainly large enough for another person.

In the bath, Cagalli thought of the vanity they now shared, smiling a little. A trinket box with a tiny cat smirking at her was now a permanent fixture at the table, along with other things.

And for the past week, the number of things that used to be in her room had increased quite rapidly in this room. Certainly, she spent a great deal more time here and not just at nights, for they could never resist if one of them deepened a supposedly innocent kiss.

As Cagalli got out of the bathroom and dressed, she was suddenly glad that the people around them had long assumed she was Athrun's lover anyway. In the past, Epstein had supplied her all sorts of things she had taken without much protest. That had been because she hadn't known how to explain otherwise.

At this point too, nothing much had changed in the twins' treatment or attitude towards her. If it had, then they were even closer to her, perhaps because they sensed she was even closer to Athrun now.

But then, Epstein seemed to have changed slightly.

Cagalli paused, her fingers stalling on the belt she was trying to adjust. He did not seem willing to talk to her as they had before, and he seemed a little distant from her, even though he willingly responded whenever she approached him.

For the past two weeks, Epstein had seemed cautiously polite and overtly courteous, something he hadn't been for some time. Perhaps he felt worried too, over how she'd stumbled accidentally into his master's basement because of his bringing her to the study.

Perhaps, Cagalli thought with more cheerful thoughts, telling him it had worked out fine would set his mind at ease.

"Alright." Cagalli muttered to herself. "All done."

She put down the brush, got up from the vanity seat, and began to make her way out of the bedroom.

There were the knowing looks that Epstein and the maids gave her as she arrived in the breakfast hall every morning. The incident of her finding the basement had been one and a half weeks ago, and since then, it had become clear that Athrun was finding every opportunity to work from his manor if he could.

Apparently, as Cagalli remembered Laplacia telling her, his decision to leave the Manor for three days had been for lack of choice. It had been urgent business he couldn't delay any longer, although he'd come home yesterday before leaving in the morning again.

Ko of course, was the baby of the household and naïve, quite oblivious to everything. He had leapt for joy, in fact, when Athrun calmly informed the household that he was cancelling some trips and would stay in the Manor for at least a week instead.

Come to think of it, Cagalli realised, Ko hadn't even realised that Athrun had been back yesterday afternoon and had spent the night in the Manor before leaving again the morning. Similarly, Ko wasn't even aware that Cagalli was probably the reason for this.

Still, Cagalli was unsure of whether to keep their relationship an open secret as it currently was, or to come clean about it. Nobody seemed to be asking, but she felt compelled to keep it indiscreet as much as she could. As a result, Cagalli kept the ring on a chain secured around her neck, hidden under her clothes here nobody would see it, until well-

She smiled embarrassedly to herself, thinking of last night. Athrun had left in the morning a few days ago, then returned in the late afternoon. She hadn't asked him where he'd been, and he hadn't offered that information either. Nothing of that sort mattered. Instead, they'd spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, then in the evening they'd had dinner and then spent the rest of the night in each others' arms.

Come to think of it, Cagalli thought dryly, they hadn't even managed most of dinner.

When evening had arrived, Cagalli been preparing to go for dinner, only to have him suddenly appear in their room and lock the door.

Seeing how he was standing behind her in the mirror, his face buried near her neck, his eyes watching her, it was clear Athrun had other plans. His nearness had set off that strange, tattoo of her pulse and adrenaline in her, and Cagalli had teased him then. "Don't you know that you should have dinner before dessert?"

As Cagalli walked past the bed to get to the door now, she couldn't help but recall how Athrun had watched her from the bed. She had undressed before him because he'd requested it. Cagalli thought of him lying on the bed admiring her even when she was blushing and trying to remain calm.

Now Cagalli shivered a little, hoping there would be a normal colour in her cheeks when she got down for breakfast.

Still, she had every reason to remember last night. He'd emptied the trinket box of its contents, forced her to lie naked and absolutely still on the bed while he arranged everything on every square inch of her body, taking his time to stroke her as he laid out gems in a dazzling mosaic.

She had trembled, impatient but unwilling to disobey him as he'd ordered her to not move a muscle. He'd smiled that half-smile of his while kissing at her, ignoring her pleas. He'd done the same to her calves and toes, then moved on to her thighs. She'd tried to remain still, the gems on her body flashing with her suppressed trembling below the layer of jewels.

But as he had continued to tease her, she had hissed his name and swept everything off her, sapphires, pearl necklaces, diamonds, emeralds and rubies and whatever he had cared to give her, not caring that they fell to the floor, pulling him to her. He had glanced at the only thing that had remained on her- the ring she wore for him, then whispered with a smirk, "What took you so long?"

What a pity, she thought, closing the bedroom door, that Athrun couldn't be around for every minute of every day.

* * *

At the breakfast table, she helped to lay out the food, grinning and serving the aides as she had for these few days. Ko had laid out the cutlery and the twins had decorated the table with new flowers from the greenhouse.

As for Cagalli, she bustled from the kitchen to the dining hall, pouring the juice for the girls and Ko, and receiving a small, hesitant smile from Epstein when she remembered that he liked milk with his coffee.

He was helping to serve the food too, and she flashed him a smile that made him colour a little, although Cagalli did not notice.

"Miss Cagalli," Laplacia protested, urged to sit down by Cagalli, "Why don't you let us continue serving?"

"Oh," She grinned. "I thought it would be nice to serve you instead."

She heaped a steaming omelette onto Laplacia's plate, and the girl beamed at her, swinging her legs from the chair she sat on in her excitement.

"And Cartesia likes the half-boiled one," Cagalli murmured to herself, fetching it. She placed it in front of the other twin, and Cartesia smiled a little hesitantly and waited for Laplacia to take a bite before starting.

The twins and Ko, as she had insisted to Athrun, were now eating breakfast with her and Epstein. Athrun had been rather surprised by the idea that she'd put forward on the morning after she'd found her way into the basement. Time seemed to be marked by that day as of lately, Cagalli realised, for incremental changes had been made everywhere.

That morning, the two of them had finally made it down to the dining hall and sat, grinning a bit embarrassedly at each other, aware that Epstein and the twins were already busy in other parts of the Manor, for it was late in the morning y then. When Cagalli had sat down for breakfast, she'd realised that even if it had been the usual time in the morning, there were not many changes in the number of people at the table. And so, she'd asked Athrun, "Why don't the twins ever join us for breakfast?"

But Athrun had shook his head a little and told her, "They don't eat when others are watching."

Athrun had proceeded to explain to her that the twins had a strange habit he had never really understood as well. Even when he'd adopted them as young children, Cartesia and Laplacia had never eaten anything in front of him, despite their obvious trust for him.

"If Ko or Epstein were here," Athrun had concluded, "They would swear that the twins never eat as long as there is anyone in their presence."

That strange habit had reminded Cagalli of mistrustful animals who half-ate and half-tensed up whenever anyone came near. She'd insisted that the twins join them that very morning, and they had been rather unwilling to at first. Laplacia had looked ill at ease as she'd picked at her food, and Cartesia had looked positively paler than she already naturally was she'd tried to shuffle the utensils around.

Over the next few days of that week though, they were getting more used to eating with others around. Ko had been the next addition to the table, since Cagalli had insisted that he and Epstein eat breakfast with them before staring the day's worth of his training.

During that period, Athrun had looked on with some amusement, as if he were half expecting the aides and Ko to refuse or to panic. But her insistence had won them over, and it seemed that the whole family was present, save for Athrun. The seat at the head of the table was empty.

Now, she slipped off the apron she'd borrowed from Cartesia, settling down into her own seat and helping herself to the toast. Sinking her teeth into the fragrant, homemade bread and making a small sound of bliss, Cagalli closed her eyes in joy.

"I like the cake that Lacy baked," Ko chirped up, lifting his face from the food and displaying a milk moustache. "And I like the waffles that Cartesia made."

Laughing in affection, Cagalli wiped it off with her napkin and nodded. "Cartesia and Laplacia, you're amazing. I wish I could do that too."

They blushed simultaneously, and Ko looked at Cagalli in surprise. "You can't?"

"Back in Orb," She explained briefly, "I ate television-breakfasts. There was instant waffle, instant pancakes, instant everything."

"Television breakfasts?" Cartesia cocked her head like a confused puppy. "What is this television breakfast?"

Epstein cut in quickly. "Remember what I told you both the other time? Television is like that screen Mr. Estragon uses-,"

"Oh," Laplacia was remembering. Her face showed a recognising gaze as she recalled a vaguely familiar word. "I remember."

Cagalli was amazed, staring at Epstein, who hadn't spoken until now. Also, she was amazed by what the twins did not seem to know.

Still, she remembered what Athrun had told her over the week about them. Abandoned children like Lyra too, the twins had lived as little urchins in areas where the Isle-dwellers had thrown their rubbish, sometimes fed by the more sympathetic people.

Athrun had taken them in on orders and had been instructed to teach them the way he had taught Epstein too. Unlike Epstein, the twins had no recollection of anything significant and were wary of everything. Nor did they know of anything outside the Isle. But their knack for organisation and their love of the kitchen had been clear ever since they'd stepped foot into the manor, and gradually, Epstein and Athrun had become reliant on them.

"What they do know of the world outside though," Athrun had told her one evening when she'd asked, "Is of military secrets and training. For them, the radio is an information-transmitter, and anything that shows moving images is defined by military language."

She'd seen his wistful smile and knew that he regretted so many things. That had been the moment when Cagalli was glad that she'd become closer to him.

She jolted to attention, because Cartesia was tugging her sleeve. "What other television meals are there?"

"There were television-lunches and television-dinners too," Cagalli remembered. "On the days when I had no energy or time to cook."

The widened eyes of the twins and Ko made her chuckle. "Not the nicest of breakfasts, trust me. I wish I could cook the way you, Laplacia and Epstein can."

"I help too!" Ko piped up, and she laughed and answered, "I bet you do."

But then, Ko looked at her, inquiring, "Cagalli, do you have a bit of a sore throat? You sound like you overstrained your voice a bit."

She felt her cheeks become warm- her voice was still hoarse and she wondered how to disguise it. Clearing her throat in vain, Cagalli smiled at Ko as he offered her remedies like honey with water. However, she found herself missing Athrun and thinking of the most recent hours they'd spent together.

He was usually gentle and controlled when he spoke to her. But in the bedroom, he took what he wanted of her, greedy and insatiable, demanding of her, like he was afraid that he would never hold her again.

Over the past week, she realised that Athrun, with her, was an overrun clock. He would hold her as if to make up for lost time, for the time that was going by, and for the time that would eventually come.

"I think Ko's correct, Miss Cagalli," Laplacia was saying cheerfully, "If you have a sore throat, you have to deal with it. It's not going to go away by itself."

Cagalli nodded distractedly, her smile still present but her thoughts elsewhere. She could only hope that none of them realised what she was distracted with.

Over the week they'd spent, Athrun had encouraged her to be uninhibited with him when they made love. When they did, she was forthright and refreshingly honest with him and herself, demanding for him to touch her exactly the way she wanted to be touched, accepting that she could demand whatever she wanted from him.

In the bedroom, they lost all control, untameable creatures that gorged themselves on primal consumption, led by both desire and need. Desperation driving each climax, they would be left with the soft, lasting aftertastes of joy that transited into a strange, healing peace each time they fell asleep in each others' arms.

She craved his touch and the warmth of his arms folding securely around her, whether he was possessive at times or remarkably gentle at others. Each time, however, they were attacked with such passion that Cagalli e was afraid that it was only temporary and he would disappear if she blinked.

Four nights ago, he'd told her with some regret that he would be unable to stay for the mornings after that, although he'd promised her he would try to return each day. He had done what he'd said for a few days now, and Cagalli hoped he would return again today.

"I'll get some honey water for you," Cartesia offered, looking like a pretty little kitten from where she nibbled at her toast daintily. "It's only fair, since you cooked the eggs today."

Cagalli began to protest, but Cartesia had already hopped off and run to fetch it. Laplacia followed naturally, and Ko, eager to tell them what proportion was the best for a sore throat, trailed excitedly.

Epstein, who sat opposite Cagalli, was quiet. His eyes did not meet Cagalli's.

Noting that he had been very reluctant to speak to her this past week, Cagalli felt nervousness enter her. Their past closeness seemed to have become a little strained for reasons Cagalli wasn't quite sure of, but she could see him look a little troubled before he noticed her staring and quickly changed his expression.

Puzzled, Cagalli ate her toast.

He had seen her merging from the main entrance of Athrun's bedroom the morning after she'd entered the basement. At that point, Epstein hadn't said anything, only looked silently at her as she'd coloured, and then watch him move off. Epstein hadn't spoken much to her since then.

With a start, Cagalli realised she had been so caught up and preoccupied with Athrun that she hadn't even spoken to Epstein over her entering the basement after he'd left the study.

But now she recalled what Athrun had told her of his past and Epstein's relation to it.

It was time, Cagalli decided. She had to speak to Epstein sooner or later.

Also, Cagalli was thinking that he had mistaken Athrun's recent lack of time spent with him and work as a sign of Athrun's unhappiness with Epstein's carelessness. After all, Athrun had certainly been staying away from the study where both of them usually worked.

She bit her lip, thinking that she would tell Epstein of this because it was an opportune moment when they were alone.

"Epstein," Cagalli said tentatively. He looked up and then sat there stolidly, staring at her without any clear emotion on his face. "Have you spoken to Athrun recently?"

"Funny isn't it?" Epstein muttered wryly under his breath. "You used to speak to me in order to find out what he was thinking. But that's changed now."

"Come again?" Cagalli said curiously, not really hearing him properly.

Epstein paused, wondering what to say to her. But she was his friend, and he knew he could not refuse Cagalli at any point.

"Alright," He said simply, looking at her. "I suppose I have to find out what he's thinking through you now, since he hasn't really been to his study much for me to talk to him. Now isn't convenient though- I have to run some errands."

Cagalli nodded helplessly, but tried anyway. "Er- Epstein? Don't worry about your bringing me into the study and my finding the basement and storeroom. It doesn't matter- I've spoken to him and he's told me what's going on." She smiled lightly at Epstein. "We're fine now. He told me what was going on."

He looked at her, a little surprised. "I know that."

"Wait-," Cagalli said unsurely, "You mean-,"

"I set it up." Epstein admitted. "The bringing you into the study, the stubbing my toe- all of that."

Not understanding, her eyes grew a little wider. "But why?"

"Because I wanted you to know how much burden he's carried for nearly seven years." Epstein said firmly.

"You mean you know about our past?" Cagalli said, gaping at him.

He nodded, looking more guarded than she could recall. "I found out- some time ago. When you first came, I didn't, of course, but I eventually wormed it out of him."

This was not true- Athrun had always been very secretive of the past he'd had before meeting Epstein. Despite the numerous times that Epstein had asked, Athrun had always told him that it didn't matter.

But after the incident when Cagalli had been the only one Athrun had accepted in allowing her near to tend to his wounds. Epstein had spoken directly to Number Seven.

Seven had been reluctant too, but he had eventually told him of the past Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha shared. Since then, Epstein had been a little less forthcoming with Cagalli, because he didn't know what to make of a person who'd rejected the parent he thought so much of for reasons that didn't seem to make sense. Nor did Epstein want to get too close to Cagalli, who could make him forget himself.

But all that didn't really matter. What mattered was that Epstein did not want to let the parent he loved so much be inwardly unhappy even while struggling to keep the little bit of peace he'd found with the captive.

So Epstein looked straight at Cagalli, who was looking a little confused. She did not understand that his motivation for making Cagalli discover the basement had been a very simple one.

"It wouldn't be fair for you to be with him if you didn't know how many problems he faces everyday," Epstein explained. "I didn't know if you would hate him or accept him when you discovered everything he was keeping from you, but I wanted him to be honest with you."

She gazed at the boy Athrun had taken with him here and found a smile spreading over her.

* * *

In Greyfriars' house, Athrun opened a suitcase.

As usual, the record was going on, and it seemed that the rather ancient mechanism Greyfriars favoured to play the music made the room seem frozen in time.

Unlike the dining room that Athrun had been in before, this room was completely different. That dining room had been filled with riches- gifts from Greyfriars' followers. Many of them were indebted to him. However, this gramophone that Greyfriars used had been assembled and made by Greyfriars himself.

He stood there, watching Greyfriars examine the suitcase' contents and then nod approvingly. "Not bad. Not bad at all, Estragon."

"Thank you." Athrun said mildly. "It took the companies I acquired quite some time to reproduce this powder. And that, I must admit, took quite a pretty penny."

"You must really hate him," Greyfriars mused. "And that's why you're spending so much time and money working for me, just to ensure that you eliminate him."

Athrun shrugged. "Every man has his own vendetta."

Greyfriars was studying him. "For four years, you've been working under- no, side by side- with me. I don't know what yours is, frankly. You can't expect me to believe at this point that it's just your nature as a businessman that's making you fund research for our weapons and the production of everything we need."

Athrun did not know what to say, although he should have been prepared for this a long time ago. Greyfriars was not a simply, empty-headed person who took every follower for granted.

Greyfriars was charismatic precisely because he understood what each person wanted and how the person would work for him if he convinced them he could achieve it.

As much as he despised the truth, Athrun knew there were similarities between himself and Greyfriars. He should have known that Greyfriars would ask for the real reason that Rune Estragon was working with him- if not in the past, then now. But that was where Athrun was more than equipped to deal with Greyfriars. After all, Athrun understood Greyfriars than Greyfriars understood Rune Estragon.

"I want revenge," Athrun said simply. "For the same reasons as you."

He pointed to the coffin that lay, almost unnoticeable, almost innocuous like a small table of sorts, in the corner of the room. It was covered with lace and was empty at this point, but he knew Greyfriars would not let go of the past so easily. "My own child died in that blast."

That was the surest way to gain Greyfriars trust, Athrun knew. People tended to trust those who were most like them, or those that they could sympathise with. And people tended to sympathise with others who had suffered the same plights.

There was a silence for a moment as Greyfriars eyes passed over Athrun. "Thank you. I didn't expect you to tell me. And for your grief, and for all you've done for me, I will make sure he suffers."

For a second, Athrun wondered if he was looking at a man who had faced no choice except to do what he had. But he shook his thoughts free inwardly and concentrated on Greyfriars as he had to.

Greyfriars was not someone to sympathise with, Athrun told himself firmly. The Numbers had warned him of this, as had the Eyes. Working as a spy was only for those who knew where their loyalties really lay. And his could not possibly lie with a man who had planned to have Cagalli killed for reasons she didn't even understand.

Greyfriars paused as he touched the vials but did nothing as stupid as to inhale the powder. The original powder that the Eyes had obtained from Mullin's suitcase was very lethal, and a simple dosage through inhalation would cause death quite immediately. Greyfriars had been quite eager to get hold of the drugs that Mullin's company was capable of producing, but Rune Estragon had beat him to it.

From what Greyfriars had been guided into believing, Mullin had never meant to sell Greyfriars that drug and to help him reproduce it. After all, that explained why Mullin had happily died from a heroin overdose and his suitcase had been found with nothing more than that drug by itself.

However, as Rune Estragon had offered, Greyfriars had another viable alternative. Here was an already trusted business partner who owned other drug companies that were capable of creating a drug that Greyfriars had heard of and wanted to use.

Besides, Greyfriars thought to himself, Rune Estragon was on his side, and Rune Estragon had proved to be a worthy man and business partner worth keeping. Rune Estragon was already handling the weapon companies that Greyfriars had wanted to acquire for so long, and Rune Estragon needed Greyfriars to complete his side of the deal. In other words, Greyfriars was quite sure Rune Estragon was to be trusted.

Now, Athrun watched as Greyfriars snapped the suitcase shut and handed it over to him, nodding again.

"When do we get the quantities we ordered?" Greyfriars demanded. He stared hard at Athrun, who looked fearlessly back at him.

"By the end of the month, it should be ready." Athrun knew that Alstarice Krieg was meddling with the drug companies and actually making them produce something quite similar to panadol tablets crushed into fine white powder. Hiding his smirk, Athrun knew that the biochemical weapon that Greyfriars was relying on so much was going to fail the minute it was sent out of the factories in their crates.

"What about the firearms we ordered some time ago?"

"Next month." Athrun looked at Greyfriars straight in the eye. Kitani Harumi was doing a fine job of controlling those companies and even the raw material companies that supplied the key ingredients for the weapon-producing factories. In other words, those would never reach the customers. Greyfriars wasn't the only customer ordering through Rune Estragon of course, Athrun thought inwardly. There was another customer that would be enraged to find out that his weapon stores weren't increasing.

In the meantime, Greyfriars leaned back, closing his eyes, then reopening them with a very tired expression. "My followers have been asking me why we can't kill her now."

Athrun felt his heart skip but controlled himself. Forcing a note of impatient incredulity into his voice, he answered. "Same old question and same old answer. Don't you see? Killing her now would be ruining the impact you hope to create. It's the same reason why it was better letting her survive the scuffle on the SS Rafael."

"Frankly," Greyfriars revealed. "I wasn't even sure whether to let her live or die that night. It was you who convinced me that it was better bringing her back to the Isle alive and in one piece so we could use her and her voice to tell the world of why she was being brought there. But that never materialised did it? She's been in your manor for ages and even Decant Corriolis was killed when he tried to kill her."

"I was preserving your purposes." Athrun told him firmly. "I answer to you, Greyfriars, not some lunatic who wants to garner support within your group amongst the more impatient members. Her immediate death would be less impressive than to have her being watched by the whole world."

"I still agree with that." Greyfrriars muttered. His eyes were dark.

"Her death must also be watched by those who would otherwise claim that some other group caused it." Athrun knew he was succeeding in convincing Greyfriars. "Only then, will Sweden be unable to control the media anymore, and only then, will the existence of your group and the cause you have been working towards become undeniable."

"That's what I told them, based on your advice." Greyfriars said heavily. He sat up and then looked directly at Athrun, who was standing before him. "But they say they'd rather get another leader who is more willing to be less cautious and to do more extreme things."

Athrun shrugged, although he knew he had a great deal to lose. "I say that's your problem. I'm not a Danish terrorist like them or like you. I'm a businessman. I will pledge my support to the group that serve my interests, and that includes the leader that can serve it for me."

Alarmed, Greyfriars sat up. He had grown too reliant on Rune Estragon by now, Athrun realised. "No-,"

Pleased at his reaction, Athrun sat down slowly. "I'm not threatening you. But for your sake, Greyfriars, don't rush things. I want my side of the deal to be fulfilled, and I'm a fair person. I'll fulfil your side of the deal, which you can only hope to achieve if you follow my advice."

"I know it's good advice to keep her alive- to prevent Orb from chickening out later and deciding not to attack Scandinavia," Greyfriars admitted. "At least if we have her alive and Orb reconsiders the ultimatum it gave Scandinavia, then we can release footage of her and tell Orb that she is alive and that if they want to get her back, they have to come get her."

He was looking more strained than usual, Athrun noticed. Probably because his group was badgering him too much, Athrun supposed. "But I'm just saying that my followers are getting impatient."

"Again," Athrun told him. "It's up to you to handle them, not me."

Greyfriars drank his tea, looking at Athrun. "I know. I've been curious though-,"

He paused, looking at his right-hand man. "What does the Orb Princess do in your manor?"

Athrun kept his tone neutral. "She's sedated, most of the time, and she's chained to her bed."

Greyfriars looked sympathetic for a second, which surprised Athrun. "Poor child. She doesn't even know why she's here."

Athrun shrugged, willing his mask to be in place. "That's not my problem either."

"I know." Greyfriars agreed.

He cast an eye over the tiny coffin in the corner. Those were surrounded by new bouquets of red clovers, and he knew Greyfriars would never recover from the pain of losing his wife and children.

When Athrun spoke, his voice was calm. "Tell them that if they want revenge for the children that died in the schoolhouse massacre, they'll have to sit tight and wait only a few weeks more."

* * *

In her bedroom, Lacus was stirred from her sleep, for Shinn was calling her name. With a jolt that ran through her aching feet to her sluggish mind, Lacus sat up, a photo-album still in her lap.

Leon was still sleeping by her side, and blearily, she looked at Shinn.

Right behind him was Meyrin, and she gazed around before she remembered that Lunamaria had flown back to Panama for some urgent business.

"It's time for Leon's meal," Meyrin said cheerily. She looked at Lacus smile wanly and Shinn held up a milk bottle. "Shinn's sterilized it already, so you should go ahead."

"Thank you." Lacus said a bit weakly. She looked at Leon who was still fast asleep. "I'll let him sleep a little more though."

Grinning, Shinn pulled a chair for himself and then for Meyrin, although Meyrin declined.

"I've got to make a call to my sister," Meyrin told them both sweetly. "So don't worry about me and do what you have to do first, alright?"

He nodded for himself and Lacus, then waited until Meyrin had closed the door. Turning back to Lacus, he saw he stroking her baby's cheek, her hair falling softly over her shoulder. Despite what people said about mothers taking on a glowing appearance, Lacus did look a bit pale and Shinn felt a tug of worry. He'd only just received Kira's call an hour ago, and he had promised Kira to ensure Lacus was eating well and healthy.

"And if you sense the slightest issue," Kira had told him firmly, "Call me."

Now, Shinn looked back at Lacus, who had apparently been flipping through multiple photograph albums. He raised his eyes to her questioningly and his friend smiled. "My father's photograph albums."

"Why take these out?" Shinn questioned.

"I was only remembering the past, Shinn."

He took one and saw Siegel Clyne bouncing a young child on his lap, his face young with happiness and the child with Lacus' soft pink hair and large blue eyes.

Smacking himself on the head inwardly, Shinn grimaced. Of course it was Lacus. He gazed at the woman in one picture who was holding a bundle of white and pink. Her mother looked almost plain and looked nothing like Lacus- not the pink hair, or the blue eyes or the face, save the strangely classic dignity that radiated from both women. Other than that, the resemblance was almost impossible to find.

Lacus must have sensed his thoughts. She offered, "I look more like my father."

Shinn tilted his head a little, not saying anything.

She chuckled warmly, but Shinn looked at her with doubt in his eyes. ""What do you need the past for, Lacus?"

"For the present." She said simply, looking at Leon still curled up, his hands and feet in mittens to keep him warm. "I thought that it was a pity that he wouldn't ever meet some of the people I loved the most."

"Like his grandfather?" Shinn asked hesitantly. He hoped Lacus would stop being so ambiguous, as she had a habit of being.

Shinn liked simplicity- he liked black and white. He wanted people he could trust, and people he'd bite if they got near. He didn't want to have to deal with people who could be either friends or enemies at any given point. Even though the war had taught him that it was not always possible, black and white never seemed possible with Lacus.

But for once, he suddenly wished she would be more ambiguous so he could pretend he was unaware of what she was really referring to.

"Yes." A tiny tremor passed through Lacus and she tried to steady herself. "When my father died, I never even got a chance to say goodbye. Just as this child will never say hello to his grandfather. But that can't be helped, can it? Unlike other things."

Immediately, he knew what she was thinking about. Inwardly, he berated himself for going down this line of conversation and even allowing Luna to insist he come and visit Lacus and the newborn baby with her and Meyrin. What if the things he'd agreed to help Athrun do were actually harming Atha?

Privately, he made a silent prayer that everything he had helped Athrun do was not anything wrong per se. Lacus' blue eyes were very clear, and he thought of a helpless frog being dissected. He was the frog.

Swallowing the sudden disconcertment in him, Shinn shook his head. "Atha's going to come back. Kira's doing all he can. She'll come back."

"What makes you so sure?" Lacus' voice was soft but steady.

"I- I just know it." Shinn replied uncomfortably. At least, he assumed that whatever Athrun Zala was up to, it would not involve hurting Cagalli Yula Atha.

"And what if I ask you about-," She paused. "About Athrun Zala?"

Shinn fought back the urge to bolt out of the room. "What about him?"

"Nothing, really." Lacus said clearly. "I was just thinking about him recently. I was thinking that it would be a sad thing if Leon never got to see his godfather."

This time, a bead of sweat did travel down, although it was thankfully at the back of the neck where Lacus could not possibly see it. "How did he become the godfather?"

"We agreed on it." Lacus said after a pause. "Right after the Second War. But of course," Her eyes turned to his meaningfully. "He disappeared without a trace. Just like Cagalli."

"She'll come back." Shinn said with more vehemence than he meant. "Surely."

She was silent for a while, looking quietly at him. "I hope so too, Shinn."

Carefully, he flipped through the album, avoiding Lacus' somehow searching eyes. But as luck would have had it, the next page contained a few pictures of a young Athrun and a person who could have only been Athrun's mother.

There were a few pictures of Athrun and Lacus as children, sitting next to each other quite formally and posing for the camera. Both resembled little dolls which were being ushered into their positions at the tea table.

But there were also other pictures of Athrun playing hopscotch with Lacus as children, and pictures of Patrick Zala on the adjoining page. Of these, many featured Siegel Clyne standing next to Patrick Zala and smiling, both comrades and colleagues at that point.

Lacus was still studying Shinn. "Athrun hasn't changed much, has he?"

It took all of Shinn's control to look back at her and keep his thoughts under check. He wondered if a thousand small beads of sweat were at his hairline. "I-I'm not sure. I suppose the last time I met him, he did look like this kid-,"

He pointed, feeling like an idiot, gesturing at a somber-looking eight year old Athrun who was standing next to a waving and smiling Lacus. Despite himself, he thought of the grave Athrun who had always seemed so stoic but had been so quietly desperate each time he'd approached Shinn for help. Lacus bent a little closer, but he was aware her eyes did not move to the photograph but seemed to be seeing through him.

Feeling incredibly pressured now, Shinn flipped a little faster and came to a page that featured photographs of something infinitely safer for Lacus' wellbeing and his blood pressure- landscapes. But that was what he had thought.

Meanwhile, Lacus had taken another photo-album and was flipping through it too, smiling at some memories only she could summon to her mind. But now, as Shinn kept his hand on the page, Lacus' eyes turned to him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes." He agreed sincerely, looking at one shot of a rose-garden. Lacus passed a hand lovingly over that photograph, pointing at it.

"The home I always remember with the fondest memories," She told him blithely, "Because of that garden."

Feeling a little afraid that she would become emotional the way Luna was prone to while forgetting it was unlikely of a perennially-composed woman like Lacus, Shinn pointed at another. It featured a wide-swept sea and coasts of shells and beech trees. It could have been taken anywhere, but there was an aged, austere charm to the view. "Was that near your childhood home too, Lacus?"

She looked at it, pausing and frowning a little. Then she shook her head. "No. My father took all these photographs, and I've never seen this place. I suppose that must be a place he visited on Earth's territory."

"How do you know that?" Shinn said interestedly, peering at the adjoining photographs now. There were pictures of wide cliffs and grey seas, and put next to the pictures of the gardens that Lacus had expressed fondness for, the cliffs seemed to overshadow the bright colours of the flowers because of their sobriety.

"There aren't any beaches in Plant that look like that." Lacus said mildly. "Controlled environments mean that the beaches will never look this natural. It must have been back on Earth." She studied the pictures again, trying to remember if her father had ever mentioned those. He hadn't, as far as she could recall, but he'd told her that he'd lived amongst Naturals once.

"Maybe it was his childhood home," Shinn suggested. "It would make sense, right? This is the place he lived in when he went to the Plants and married your mother and started his family-," He gestured at the photographs Lacus seemed to have more familiarity with. "This was probably the place he lived in before that."

She frowned a little, peeling off the plastic sheets that protected the photographs. And Lacus selected one of stormy seas and those beautiful cliffs, wondering if her father had continued with his habit of marking every photograph he took and labeling it at the back. Plucking it from that page, she flipped it, and Shinn paused and drew a little closer.

"Skúvoy." She read. "C.E. 38." Lacus showed it to Shinn, who looked at what was probably Siegel Clyne's handwriting and raised his brows in an expression of interest. His voice was puzzled. "Haven't heard of that place."

"It probably doesn't exist anymore." Lacus told him steadily. "My father told me that when he left for the Plants as a teenager, his own home had already been destroyed. Lots of places were destroyed by radical Naturals back on Earth- even before many Coordinators migrated to space. The ancient places of Venice, Greece- so many places. You see, there were many Coordinators who populated those beautiful, old places where the wealth seemed to be drawn to."

"It's not like much changed after those places were destroyed and written off the maps," Shinn offered tentatively. He frowned a little, not sure why he was babbling about his own past at the mention of Siegel Clyne's and Lacus' vague recollection of the things her father had told her. "My own parents were forced to leave Kowloon with my sister and I when their business competitors started accusing them of using underhanded means as Coordinators to earn their salaries. That's why we went to Orb- which welcomes Coordinators and Naturals alike."

"Kowloon," Lacus murmured. "Another beautiful place. I remember looking at a book of ancient places that were sadly, destroyed, and I remember the picture of Kowloon. It was during a world history lesson with my tutor- it was a long time ago, probably."

She smiled at Shinn, and staring at her, he understood why so many worshipped this woman, including her husband. Despite her queer ways and somehow disarming mannerisms, this woman seemed truly kind and pure even though she was probably cleverer than most were aware. He was forcibly reminded of Cagalli in an instant, and feeling a bit flustered, he dropped his eyes.

Lacus, however, had returned to the photograph. She stared at it for a little longer, aware that she had never been to the place despite having looked at this photograph many times before. And then Lacus nodded, replacing it and calmly pressing the plastic sheet back. "Well, you're probably right, Shinn, this was probably part of his childhood."

"Nice place," He offered, feeling like the worst had been over. At least they were not talking about Athrun, who he was supposed not to have been in contact over these few years. He repressed a slight twitch of his shoulders and concentrated on meaningless conversation. "Those seas are fantastic. I wonder where those are?"

"Scandinavia, I think." Lacus mused. "My parents were of Scandinavian heritage." She suddenly thought of something and began to speak, but Leon woke up at that point and began to cry. Lacus stiffened with attention, gathering the baby up and quickly bringing it to her. The child began to cry a little more insistently and she shook her head haplessly.

Shinn watched her make a sound of distress for a second, then remembered the bottle and passed it to her. She sat up straighter in bed, holding her child and smiling at Shinn gratefully, and he returned the smile.

Neither of them remembered the photograph album or thought about anything more than getting Leon to pipe down right after that.

* * *

Epstein's form was hunched over as he weeded. He was nearly on his knees, and in his hands, the shears were making distressing sounds. Grass was flying into the air, perfuming it with the scent of dew and fresh green juices.

Some distance away, Cagalli watched him. She was weeding at a far less efficient pace than Epstein, despite insisting that she join him to do the same.

Without the bulkiness of his usual suit and because he'd taken off his shirt to work, she could see his slimness and youth. He'd taken off his glasses too, and she could not ignore how much he looked like his mother now.

The new knowledge that Athrun had given her now allowed Cagalli to feel sorrow for both Gilbert Dullindal and Talia Gladys. More than that, she felt great sorrow for the little fragment of their past that they had left in their present- Epstein himself.

But Cagalli found that she could not concentrate on anything. Her head was throbbing slightly but insistently, and upset, she tried to concentrate on whatever she was doing. But what was she doing? She was thinking of thoughts that were as fragmented as her concentration.

Epstein noticed she had been staring at him for quite some time, and put down his shears, sitting carefully in the grass. She did the same, smiling hesitantly and he returned it.

"I suppose Athrun told you about my parentage." Epstein said matter-of-factly. "I guess it came as a shock, didn't it? It came as a shock to me when Athrun first told me."

The use of Athrun's name made Cagalli stare at him, an Epstein shrugged, continuing. "It was during his second year here, you know. I was arguing with him over a mission I was supposed to be going for, one that he refused to let me go into. I told him he didn't really have a choice or a decision since he wasn't my parent and that I didn't have any anyway."

Cagalli was stunned and Epstein smiled wryly. "I know what you're thinking. You're right. Even on the days when I wasn't at my best or wasn't listening to his instructions, Athrun never scolded me or told me off. But that day, he had to control himself from socking me in the face, I'm sure."

"What did he say when you told him that?" Cagalli shook her head.

"He lost it and yelled." Epstein recalled. "First time I ever heard him yell at me. But he told me that my parents didn't die so I could join them in the afterlife by chasing after some foolish ideal either, and that's when I realised he knew more than he let on. I didn't even know the circumstances of my mother's death until that moment. He told me the rest eventually, of course."

He glanced at her, for Cagalli was silent. And then Epstein shrugged "I don't look much like him, I know. I've seen pictures of him, and I don't really have his features as much as you would have expected."

"Well, your father was a very talented man." Cagalli said helplessly. "You do take after him in that respect."

This was true. Gilbert Dullindal had been a brilliant man, filled with ambition, talent and potential. When he had died, Cagalli had been in Orb at that time, commanding the troops from where she was and praying for the safety of the others.

When the news of his death arrived, she had not been as relieved as she thought she would be. Rather, she had thought of Dullindal as that highly intelligent, persuasive person that Cagalli had sincerely admired but had disagreed with in the end.

"Yes, well, Gilbert Dullindal never wanted me." Epstein said harshly, surprising her. "That's why he let my mother leave him."

"That's not fair," Cagalli said immediately, reaching out to Epstein and touching his hand gently. "He didn't even know-,"

"He probably didn't want to know." Epstein said quietly.

The ministers around her had been cursing the man who had orchestrated the apocalyptic situation the world and society might have faced. Yet, all Cagalli had thought of was what a brilliant person he had been, how driven he had been, what a _waste_ everything had been.

She had not been unable to comprehend why such sympathy had instinctively arose in her at that time.

But now, Cagalli knew why Dullindal had strove to create that future. His pain had been far to great for him to bear, such that his final dream was to eradicate the possibility of dreaming again.

If only he knew that Talia had given him a son, she thought with a pang. If only he known of that the child she'd bore for them.

"What made you decide not to acknowledge your parents?" Cagalli said softly, thinking of her own birth father. The only father she knew was Uzumi Nara Atha, and Ulen Hibiki was someone she'd never met or never hoped to.

Epstein shrugged. "The fact that he never acknowledged me. I know he never knew I existed, but that's only because he never bothered asking for the real reasons why his lover suddenly upped and left. The only parent I know of is Athrun Zala"

There was the son that Gilbert Dullindal had left behind. Did Epstein know she had pitted herself against his father, and did he forgive her for that? Or did he even know who his parents were, or did he think of them as strangers despite actually having met them?

Cagalli bit her lip. Did Epstein know of her and Athrun's role in his parents' death?

It occurred to her that Epstein was the son of the man that she, Athrun, Kira and Lacus had indirectly caused the death of.

By pitting themselves against Gilbert Dullindal, they had only been keen to prove that their ideology was superior to his- and he had failed and would be the person history thought of as a villain. Conversely, Cagalli Yula Atha, Athrun Zala, Lacus Clyne, and Kira Yamato were the victors that books featured and academics recognised as important forces in shaping history- particularly the two women.

Now, Cagalli saw the four of them as merely correct only because history was written by victors. They were the victors- they had imposed their ideology on the war's survivors as much as Gilbert Dullindal had attempted to impose his on them.

Gazing at Epstein, Cagalli was aware of how many things she had not understood in the past.

In the aftermath of the Second War, Kira had told her of the relationship between Gilbert Dullindal and Talia Gladys. And Athrun had been requested by Talia Gladys, or perhaps even Kira, to look after her son. Why Kira? Why Athrun? Had it been merely because they were there? Or was it for a reason that only Talia knew?

Talia Gladys had been just another woman, really, torn apart by her loyalties to her job and her desire to return to her son. She had exceptional leadership qualities and was a very good officer, but beneath that, Talia had been little except a woman fighting her demons every day. From the information Kira had gathered, Cagalli had understood that Talia Gladys had probably continued her relationship with Gilbert Dullindal.

He'd eventually stepped aboard the Minerva and came face to face with her, and Cagalli could only presume that they'd either been attracted to each other again or had never fallen out of love. Either way, they'd probably entered a semi-casual relationship, as Arthur Trine had revealed to Kira Yamato, and Talia had probably never even told Dullindal that they'd had a son.

Naturally, Cagalli had not paid much attention to the presence of the boy that Kira had showed her a picture of. At that time, she had also been too bogged down with rebuilding Orb. Thus, she had clean forgotten about the child, who bore a strong resemblance to Talia Gladys, a boy whose smiling, happy face had seemed normal.

That had changed. She was looking at that same boy and she was aware that he had taken on some of Athrun's traits. Epstein was a bit guarded, a person who was a bit mistrustful, a person who kept to himself, and a person who had his own insecurities just like Athrun.

"Epstein," Cagalli said carefully, making him pause his weeding and shearing. "Remember the other time, when you remarked that both our parents were too caught up with their own lives to care about their children?"

He looked directly at her. "Yes. I hold to that, even now."

"What do you know of your parents?" Cagalli said awkwardly.

Epstein shook his head. "Athrun Zala was very kind to their memory. I don't think I can be. I don't think they deserve a person like him to tell their child that the parents who left him were good people."

She looked at him, a bit disconcerted. "Epstein- I don't disagree that Athrun is like a brother or even father to you. But your parents-,"

"My birth father didn't want me." He spat. "Nor did my mother's husband. Not even my mother. That's why she left me back there with her husband and let him throw me out! I know Athrun said she wrote letters- but what's the point?"

Epstein's eyes were narrowed. "Those went to the old house we used to live in. It was obvious she didn't even think that her husband would throw me out after she'd left for the Plants."

In that moment, when she had uncovered his weakness, she had placed her finger on why he was so emotionally vulnerable, so affected by each and every of Athrun's moods.

She pulled his hands into hers. "It's not like that, Epstein. I'm sure your father wanted your mother to stay with him. But he couldn't marry her at that time and let her have a child. As a young politician, a family would be a weight to a career that was about to take flight."

"So he left my mother?" Epstein asked aggressively. "And then what about my mother? She left the man she married back in Germany, just because she had been offered a promotion back in Zaft, which she had previously resigned from. She wanted her career more than me."

Cagalli bit her lips, trying to find the words to explain it differently to him.

"And your birth father was just like mine." Epstein said accusingly. "Ulen Hibiki was once my father's teacher. Did you know that?"

She shook her head wildly. Cagalli had cut off all information of her birth father, not wanting to know anything of him. But here Epstein was, providing her all the facts she had not wanted to know of.

Epstein looked at her directly. "I'll tell you what really happened then. Gilbert Dullindal had been a brilliant physicist and doctor- under the tutelage of your own father, of course. My birth father witnessed your twin's birth. Or creation. Whatever you call it. Maybe that's how Gilbert Dullindal realised that if you planned the future for everything, the child would never have to worry or to be hurt."

He shrugged. "Looks like your father and mine got along well not only because of their intellectual interests. Your father used your brother in his experiment- and he would have used you too if your mother hadn't intervened. Then she had to watch her marriage fall apart because of that."

His expression hardened. "My father was willing to sacrifice anything for his own dream too."

He pulled away from her and began to shear again. The grass flew furiously into the air.

In the past, she too, had thought of Gilbert Dullindal as delusional and Talia Gladys to be emotional to the point of being irrational. But now, she could not say the same. After all, Cagalli realised, she knew what it meant to do anything to reach an almost impossible ideal, and she knew what it meant to want to give everything up for a loved one. How different was one human from another, really?

Cagalli thought of Kira, who had given up a future of quiet and anonymity for Lacus. She thought of Lacus, who'd given up that same future to work for the ideals of peace and harmony between Naturals and Coordinators. Hadn't Lacus sacrificed things for her ideals too?

Cagalli thought of the way she'd done things she had never dreamt of doing in order to ensure her service to her country was no disrupted by anything. When had it ceased to be a service and more of a personal raison d'etre?

Had it been merely when her father had died? Or had it been all those years later, when she'd believed that she had nothing else to live for except Orb, and that Orb would be the one thing that she needed for the simple reasons hat Orb needed her in the first place?

'Your father would have loved you if he knew you'd existed." Cagalli told Epstein firmly, trying to reason with him. It was difficult, she realised. She was pulling at straws, because nothing she seemed to think of could deny the fact that Epstein was truly against his birth parents. "Those ambitions- those dreams probably mean nothing when you find another reason to live. That's why your mother left him to have you."

Epstein shrugged, hiding the hurt away, as he always had. "She still went back to Zaft, right? If not to meet him again, then what? She never told him I existed, I suppose. And she left me with a man who didn't care for me- so I'm not convinced when you say having a child made her forget her ambitions. She went back to the Plants because she couldn't give up her relationship with my birth father even when she had me and another person who loved her. In any case, her husband soon realized I wasn't his son and threw me out fast enough. My birth father didn't want me too. He let her leave him because he wanted to focus on his career too. So what if she was carrying his child?"

When had Dullindal decided that a mere theory would be the path that was worth walking down? Hadn't that path meant sacrificing everything humankind had used as motivation for an unknown future?

Had he made his decision when his own dreams had vanished and he'd found hollowness in trying to believe and hope again? Or had it been when he'd met the living creations who were all but waiting to die and trying to leave their own make on humankind? Hadn't those living creations been the sons of someone who had worked so hard and had been so infinitely hopeful as to alter his own genes in hopes of writing his future for himself?

Looking at the son Gilbert Dullindal had left behind, Cagalli couldn't say she knew any better. Whether Gilbert Dullindal had known that he had a son or not, he had believed that the only way to prevent unhappiness and pain was by writing and dictating lives.

While people would never know how to expect and would therefore never dream, they would never feel the disappointment Gilbert Dullindal had personally felt. They would never aspire for what they could possibly or possibly not have, and they would never have to suffer if their dreams never came true.

After all, as Dullindal had reasoned, they wouldn't know what a dream was like, or what it meant to dream.

"Epstein," Cagalli said, watching him wipe a few beads of clean sweat from his forehead even while he snipped at the grass savagely. "Are you upset at my knowing about who your parents are?"

He immediately looked wary, the shears pausing in his hands. Then he sighed and nodded. "A bit."

Cagalli bent forward, gazing intently at him.

Epstein shook his head tersely. "I was hoping he wouldn't tell you about the other reason why he stayed on after three years. He shouldn't have burdened you with that." His eyes flickered to hers, and again, she saw what she found so familiar. But now, she knew whose hair and eyes he had, whose face his resembled. "My father was Gilbert Dullindal and his was Patrick Zala. A fine way to associate the sons of madmen." He laughed ironically.

Cagalli grabbed his face in her hands, lowering his head slightly so she could stare at him. "Don't say that. I never thought that of either of you."

Suddenly, he was no longer an adult but a confused child again. He put away the shears, no longer able to vent his frustration. "The only person who won't ever sacrifice me is Athrun Zala, Cagalli. And that's why I had to make sure he had a chance at his own happiness."

He shook his head. "Don't take him away, Cagalli."

"I know Athrun belongs to you too, but he belonged to me first." Epstein's eyes were pleading with her. "So don't take him away."

"Take him away?" She echoed, confused.

"He's the only person I have." Epstein begged. And she was forcibly reminded that Epstein was not as old as he made himself to be, not so matured as she had thought, and in an instant, Cagalli had flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly

Her voice was soft. "I'm not taking him away. I can't. He already cares for you too much for me to change anything, and I wouldn't change it for the world. I knew your parents briefly- Athrun may or may not have told you that."

"I know." He said instantly. "You need not apologise for anything. His death was his own making. Besides-," A hard look crossed his mouth, which made him look uncharacteristically cold. It pained her to realize how similar he looked to his father suddenly. "The only person I recognise, like I said, is Athrun Zala. He's the one who gave up his freedom to keep me safe. That's why I promised him not to go in the end. That's why I decided that he was worth dying for if he wanted me to, except that he would never accept it because he is the person who really cares for me."

He turned back to her, extracting her from his arms gently.

She patted him on the back, and then on impulse reached forward, holding his face tenderly, and kissed his forehead. This was the child she had been, Cagalli realised. One who'd had a vague recollection of someone who ought to have been around but wasn't.

* * *

Only two days after that, did Athrun appear in the evening.

She hadn't seen him for a few days, and Cagalli wasn't even sure if he was around in the manor at all. Nevertheless, she had spent the nights in his room, waiting until she had fallen asleep.

For the past few mornings when she had awoken, Cagalli had been quite sure he would be there. But he hadn't been, and she felt a little bit of disappointment but hid it well enough.

If Cagalli had ever wondered if she had missed out on teenage escapades in the past, she had probably dismissed it as something unimportant. Now however, she wished she had gone through the said processes of finding oneself totally emotionally reliant on another to the point that hours spent hanging around the phone seemed like a good way to spend time.

In her case, the hours of doing everything but nothing was an experience she had become quite familiar with. In other words, Cagalli found herself thinking of nothing but him and doing everything to concentrate.

The rest of the days had involved helping the twins to spring-clean a few rooms that were not used. Time had also had been spent with Ko. This morning had been no exception.

But during lunch when one person had been absent, Epstein had informed her that Ko had taken a bit of a fever after his afternoon training. Naturally, she rushed to his room, and had not found him there.

Upset, she had whirled around to find Epstein trailing after her. He was a bit breathless because Cagalli had shot off so quickly without hearing him. Now though, she hadn't found a need to.

"He's still training, isn't he?" Cagalli had demanded.

Epstein had nodded, about to say something, but Cagalli had taken off at the speed he had never quite seen before.

In the training hall, Ko had been barely able to stand. His slightly unfocused eyes had flown to hers as she entered with Epstein, and when he turned around, she saw that his cheeks were red.

He'd looked around with surprise on his overly-pink face, saying blearily, "Cagallli? Why are you here?"

His hands had been a little unsteady on his sword, and not for the first time, Cagalli had been stricken to see how ridiculous it was. A boy like him, carrying and practicing with a sword that was slightly more than half his height! What more would he be asked to take on next?

"Leave it," Cagalli had ordered. "Go back to your room."

Ko had looked at her stubbornly, about to protest, except that he opened his mouth, got ready to argue, and found himself kneeling forward in a faint.

Subsequently, Cagalli had stayed with him in his room for the rest of the time, soaking cloth bandages in cold water to ease his fever. Some time in the later afternoon, Ko's fever had mostly subsided, and he'd gotten up and tried to insist he go back to training.

Epstein had put his foot down firmly, despite Ko's hopeful eyes. When he'd left, Epstein had seemed almost rueful.

"I've got to get back to my work now, Ko." Epstein told the boy softly. "But Cagalli will keep you company."

The boy nodded, smiling at them both even through the haze of his fever.

As Epstein left, Cagalli had slipped beside Ko, hugging him, feeling his flushed, slightly pink face rub against her shoulder as she patted his head. Cagalli began drawing him close and hugging him delightedly, liking his warm little form and the way he melted into her arms.

Almost deliriously, she began to cuddle him, laughing as he put his arms sweetly around her and began to rub his face into her shoulder.

Ko was slightly better now, she thought to herself, touching his forehead while he snuggled against her.

Epstein had carried him back to his room, and Cagalli had been to upset to see that Ko's stubbornness had led him back to the training hall, not Epstein's insistence. Ko was fixated on his training, she realised, because he had little else to do here.

At this point, Ko shifted against her and she sighed quietly, looking around the room.

The first time that Cagalli had entered Ko's room, she noticed the absence of any childish elements immediately. A ten year old boy would have model trains and cars, aeroplanes and even toy soldiers or a mechanics set.

But the room had nothing except a bed, a pillow, some plants, and a few swords and framed photographs which seemed out of place in a corner of the enclosure. That was it, really, she thought to herself. It was an enclosure.

"Cagalli?" His voice was muffled.

"What is it?"

""What if you get my fever too? Is it high?"

"It's not a high fever," Cagalli said with some relief to herself, touching his forehead again. Ko was still looking at her doubtfully.

"I won't," She assured him quickly. "We're all immune now, from the jab that Epstein for from Miles Summon. Besides, this isn't a flu. This is just you overworking your body."

He began to reach for her again, and she let him bury his face, quite unaware for a few minutes this child was not hers. It made no difference however, as she felt Ko rub his face tiredly against her neck. She giggled at the sensation and stroked his fair head, wondering what Ko's father had looked like for Harumi's child to have hair of this color.

"When you get better quickly, we'll go for a swim again." Cagalli promised.

She felt him squint against her shoulder as he leaned against her .

"Yes." He mumbled. "I'd like that."

He continued staring at her, his eyes wide. He had beautiful features, although they were a strange mix of his mother's jet eyes and what must have been his father's white, milky skin. He rested his head against her chest and she ran a hand through his curls, smelling the soft baby powder of his face and the egg complexion all children had.

"Why do you train so hard?" She asked curiously.

"Because I want to protect everyone. My mother, Epstein, the twins, and Mr. Estragon" Ko said innocently. "My mother tells me that they are worth more than a few men put together. But how is that possible? You can divide, and you can multiply, but when you add, it doesn't work that way."

She tried to see his logic but failed to, just as he had failed to understand the figure of expression. So she laughed, ruffling his hair.

"Cagalli," He yawned, "When did you and Mr. Estragon become friends?"

Cagalli blinked, then remembered how Epstein had introduced her. Chuckling, she decided not to correct that. She wouldn't know how to even begin explaining anyway, Cagalli decided.

"Two hours and one gun-shot after we first met." She said merrily.

"Gun-shot?" Ko's voice was puzzled.

"An accident." She laughed. "Don't worry about it. Nobody got shot. I just fired by- by accident."

"Close-range?"

"Close-range."

"Mr. Estragon said it once-," He interrupted himself with another yawn. "That close-range shooting takes more control and will for one to squeeze the trigger." Pepita was curling up somewhere near them, bored by the inactivity. Like her master, the puppy had exhausted herself with affection.

She paused. "It's true. How shall I explain it?"

"It's something he mentioned a very long time ago." Ko offered haphazardly, beginning to fall asleep. "Maybe-," He tried to explain, getting himself more and more confused. "I think he called it an internal struggle."

"Hmm." Cagalli smiled indulgently. "I think it's precisely what you think it is."

"Really?"

"Mm."

"I thought so," He said sleepily, and within minutes, he was fast asleep in her arms. "I always wonder whether to shoot first and run, or run away and then shoot." His ongoing fever was making him a bit drowsy.

She felt him cling to her and smiled a little. He was like a small weight, those lead pieces one attached to a string and watched for oscillations. Tiny but beautifully shaped and solid, Cagalli wondered how he would grow up on the Isle. If he could talk of shooting and of hurting, it was unlikely that his childhood would last for much longer.

Like Epstein, what did he really know of his mother? Would he have to grow up, piecing together random bits of information that gave an incomplete and negative picture of someone who'd done all she could to distance him from the world she lived in?

He cuddled next to her as she lay by him, and stroking his fair curls, she kissed his forehead. He was born as Harumi's child, but for now, he was safe here. He was a perfect little creature who would grow up suddenly like a runner bean, she thought fondly. These limbs would lose their chubbiness and become lithe and with a panther's masculinity.

Cagalli eyed the wooden sword that lay on the other side of the bed with some sadness. Unlike the messily-strewn toys, this one was well-wrapped up and leaning against the wall.

This place needed more toy aeroplanes, building blocks to make cities, all of that children should have all had. This boy needed more than lessons to make him learn what he was living for.

"Maybe something that would occupy his hands," Cagalli muttered to herself. "Something a boy of his age would like… Perhaps they'll accede to my request that his room be made more liveable."

Something knocked very lightly on the door. Without waiting for a response, it swung open.

From where she lay, she looked up and froze, for Cagalli had caught sight of Athrun in the doorway.

In his heavy, jet-coloured coat, he cut a stern, if not striking figure when surrounded by the neutral wood-tones of Ko's austere room. Ko remained fast asleep, his small arms around her and his face turned towards her like a baby marsupial.

Cagalli continued to stroke the slumbering child's cheek as she had before that. Athrun watched her, and although she did not want to show it, she was disconcerted.

His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth a firm, set line on his face. Nothing about his body language suggested clear hostility, but she felt slightly threatened with this child next to her, as if she had been his mother who was bound to protect him from all. Athrun looked at them carefully, and his voice was quiet so as not to wake the child.

"How have you been?" He said after a pause.

"Fine." Cagalli whispered. "You?"

"Fine." He echoed. "Epstein tells me that Harumi requested for you to look after Ko."

"Yes," Her voice was soft and her face and form lovely, rounded and yet delicate with Ko's body, a perfect symmetry of both bodies curled for warmth. Athrun watched her, wanting to bring her into his arms.

And yet, Ko was cuddling even closer to her, burying himself even closer to her. His small arms and hands were wound around her as if she were a bolster, his head pillowed on her chest, for he was still deep in his dreams. Cagalli's voice was quiet. "He's a lovely child."

"He is." Athrun made no effort to step closer. "A pity then."

She looked at him unsurely, although her voice remained as soft and as murmuring as his to allow the child to sleep on. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing at all,' Athrun said deliberately. "Now, leave him to sleep. He has a long day even after this. His training will start immediately after his dinner."

"Training?"

Her eyes flew back to the sword.

"That's right," He said in that unreadable way. His mouth was stern but his eyes were either ambivalent or slightly sad. "He is near perfection in his skill with the knife, but this weapon is not exactly the same. He will need more practice with this."

"But he having a fever!" She gasped, horrified at the prospect of the young body bearing his mother's scars. "And he already knows how to protect himself-,"

"He's learning to do more now." Athrun told her quietly. "Epstein will accommodate the fact that he has a fever, although Harumi would never allow that. When you are attacked, nobody cares what your handicap is. If anything, they will exploit it."

They understood what he meant. Athrun spoke again. "Some things cannot be helped. But don't think about him for now. Leave him."

Cagalli looked helplessly at the child who was clinging to her even in his sleep.

"Leave him." Athrun repeated, and she knew she could not disobey him. "Come here."

Regretfully, she extricated herself from the boy, who made a small sound of discontent although he did not wake up. In that moment, Cagalli realised that she could not refuse to. She wasn't Ko's mother after all, she thought sadly, and she wasn't bound to this child the way she was to Athrun.

Carefully though, she tucked him in before getting up. Away from the heated mattress and another body's warmth, Cagalli shivered a little.

She moved to Athrun slowly, taking one careful step after another. With blazing eyes, Athrun caught her hands in his even though she hadn't expected it.

Wordlessly, he pulled her out of the room, shutting it quietly, not looking back at Ko. There was something pained in his eyes, and she thought she understood what it was. He was shutting himself away from the things he could not help. But there was more than regret in his eyes.

"What is it?" Cagalli said awkwardly, still afraid to raise her voice for fear of waking Ko, who was inside.

"Come with me now," Athrun said intently. His voice dropped even lower in volume as he pressed a hand to her cheek, and his eyes narrowed but did not close as he laid a soft kiss on her lips.

She gaped at him, her colour rising. "You don't mean that-,"

He answered her by pulling her waist close to his body with his other hand, and she felt him and knew instinctively, that Athrun wanted to touch her.

"Wait-," Her voice was nervous, and she felt her heart beating violently. What was wrong with her, Cagalli wondered. Hadn't she known and learnt enough of Athrun over this time to recognise when she had no say? But why- why wasn't she feeling upset or even resistant to that, and why was the pulse in her racing?

"No," He murmured, kissing her cheek now. "I can't. I won't. I need to feel you now-,"

And perhaps he was right. Cagalli found every nerve, every pore charged with that strange, tingling desire even though he had done little more than kiss her. And it was then that she realized how much her body ached for his and how fragmented something was on the Isle without Athrun.

He was already leading her to his room, and she stumbled in as he locked the door, and within minutes, his mouth was on her neck, her mouth in his hair, kissing him, pressed against the door.

"You'll never know how much I missed this," He muttered. Cagalli shifted awkwardly as he undressed her, knowing that her breath was appearing as small puffs of mist in the cold air of his unheated room.

Distractedly, he pulled his tie loose, throwing off his coat and undoing his shirt swiftly. And promptly, he led her to the bed, where she mounted it, slipping beneath the sheets and watching him before he joined her shortly.

Hugging her to him, Athrun buried his face near her. His bare arms circled hers tightly and her torso and his own began to share each other's warmth.

It struck her that only a short while ago, a child had done nearly the same, and now, with Athrun, the same act could mean so much more. He was not a child, but a man, one who knew what lust and desire meant, one who knew how to induce it in her. But all that did not change the fact that like the child, he wanted to feel her near and feel safe.

"You know," She murmured, stroking his hair, "Ko's a good child."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "I'll say. He can be a little demon though. You're lucky he likes you."

"How do you know?"

"I watched you with Ko. He likes you."

"Does he?" Cagalli said distractedly, trying to ignore the maddeningly pleasurable sensation of his fingers stroking her inner thighs, and the electricity of his mouth roving on her neck then further down. "He's trying so hard to live up to his mother's expectations."

He kissed her, seizing her breath, and gave her little time to recover. His hands were stroking her and hers were entwined around his waist now. He muttered her name and groaned as she began to nibble at his shoulder and neck.

Teasingly, she raked her fingernails on his lower back, and he hissed in pleasure. It was all he could do to maintain his control when she asked in a playful whisper, if he liked what she was doing.

"I watched you kiss him," He said roughly, "I felt envious."

Cagalli laughed, slightly flattered. "A little obsessive here, aren't we? Is it the five days that you haven't been back that's making you so impatient?"

"Two days." Athrun corrected her. "I came back three evenings ago, remember?"

"Which proves my point." Cagalli chuckled. "I can kiss your forehead if you like, here-"

Her lips met the smooth wax of his forehead, a chaste, tender kiss that he closed his eyes to receive.

"I need more than that." He retorted. And roughly, he began pulling her up and cradling her as they sat, facing each other on his bed.

"Say," Cagalli said softly. "Do you think it's possible to give Ko some toys? If he's a child, he should have some time to himself and less of that awful training with the sword I saw by his bed. Or do you think that-,"

"No." Athrun's voice grew into a command but a plea at the same time. "I'll explain everything later."

"Why not now?" Cagalli said, a bit confused. "Why-,"

"Focus on me now." He interrupted, his voice a bit harsh because of his impatience. "Only on me. I want you to think of only me and what I'm about to do for you. Only me."

She found her head sinking into the pillows, and smilingly, she wound her fingers in his hair as he bent over her. Her eyes closed, and she felt his lips brush against hers, knowing she was lost to him.

Each time they made love, Athrun found himself asking who Cagalli really was. She could please him by simply laughing at what he said, smiling or touching his hand slightly with her fingertips.

Beautiful women were often poor lovers, expecting to be pleased without having to please because of their pr-existing appeal. But Athrun found Cagalli to be an anomaly. She was incredibly generous as a lover, satisfying him until he begged her to stop. But she demanded as well, and he found that he could not resist her.

Eventually, he lay on his stomach, the sheets covering his waist. She was curling by his side, the loose shift she had tied around her moving open a little. Her hands were stroking his back and massaging his arms and neck.

"That feels nice," He muttered. "Very nice."

She laughed, glad that he was back with her, although she didn't dare to ask when he'd be leaving again. "You're incorrigible."

"Why not, if it's you dealing with me?" Athrun said agreeably, his face buried in the pillow, exhausted.

"Your shoulders feel stiff," Cagalli murmured. She drummed her fists slightly and kneaded into his back. She pressed her lips against the back of his neck, her cool arms brushing across his back. Cagalli's voice was a bit cautious. "What were you up to these past few days?"

He clammed up swiftly. "Nothing much. Just work in general."

"Alright. " She said a bit meekly.

He turned to look at her. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Ah." She said simply. "I don't expect you to either. But that doesn't matter."

He stopped her from massaging him and took her into his arms.

Possessively, he moved above her, held up by his arms. He tried to kiss her but she moved her head away and his lips met her cheek. He tried again and this time, touched her neck. Then laughing, he ran his mouth over her neck and undid her shift deftly.

"We just-," She said in amazement and a bit of protest on her lips.

He forced her on her back, kissing her cheek with a twinkle in his eye. "I missed out yesterday and the day before that. It's only fair."

Cagalli chuckled and looked at him directly, watching as the background behind him changed from the wall to the door they had been pressed against at, and then the ceiling as he lowered her onto his bed, dragging the translucent curtains across to house them in their nest. She clung to him, discarding all thoughts of Orb, the Isle, and what the future really meant. There was no past or present- no future even, when she was with him. There was only him.

He was leaning forward as he thrust hard, pausing purposely to make the tension within them build up, then plunging deep into her, bring them so close but not beyond it so that every sensation was agony in its very pleasure.

Briefly, she wondered if she was reciprocating fairly. His body was chiselled and hard against her softer frame, magnificent and intent on pleasing her as she trembled, panting his name like an animal- his animal. She wondered if she was doing enough for him, but his voice assured her that she was even though she doubted that she could.

She made a cry of frustration, and he relented. He had to. He built his rhythms into a mad rush of thrusting, his hips strong against her soft, slippery thighs. She had moved over him without him realising it, riding him, moving herself vertically over him, his voice articulating her name, hoarse with feeling and sensation.

His hands were burning into her breasts and waist, and he knew that his climax was seconds away. The concept of time was abstract, but here, with her on the Isle, in this cove of their world, time flashed by amidst a strange form of eternity. Nothing made sense. He tried to make sense of the days, but all that made sense was holding her.

And when he found himself erupting into her, his shouts of pleasure strangled as she kissed him, Athrun knew why he had been unable to concentrate on his work.

Despite all his efforts over the past few days, being away from her had been harder than he'd expected.

His voice was strained and her name breathed in spasms, his body nearly contorted. And shortly she climaxed, her voice in a low cry until they were curled up, his chin tucked above her head, and their arms tight around each other, the aftermath of the spasms melting into chocolaty warmth.

As she breathed against him, curled up like the child he'd watched when he'd entered Ko's room, Athrun brought her closer. She settled into his arms easily, as she'd learnt how to all over again in the basement of his study, and soon fell asleep.

While she slept, Athrun held her, faced with all the old fears. If he slept, he would awake to find that she had left. If he fell asleep, she would change somehow, and in the morning, he would be faced with a stranger.

How funny Fate was! In the past, he'd despised the manor. He'd despised working from it or even having to spend his time there, for it had reminded him of Rune Estragon. Away from the study, he'd secured the things Athrun Zala had held dear to him, and he'd kept a little sanity by spending time in the abysses of a place nobody had been in. Apart from that place, Athrun had hated spending his nights in a place that reminded him of his loneliness.

But Cagalli had changed that too.

She'd found her way in there- convinced him to let her enter his mind for once. And after she had, he'd found himself unable to leave the manor without feeling regret or even unhappiness.

The possibilities for why he felt empty and distracted when apart from her now frightened him. But Athrun was still drawn to her, and he knew that he could find no peace except when he looked at her and reminded himself that she was still there with him.

The hours passed without him realising it, and he was soon asleep.

But in the morning, when he woke and was glad he didn't have to leave the manor today, Athrun could not bear to wake her, if only watch her sleep by his side for a few hours more.

* * *

In the morning, Athrun got up to make a call to Seven.

Six rooms away from the bedroom that Cagalli was asleep in, Athrun realised that he was about to be engaged in a conversation that would have deafened most. He was glad that the locked study was soundproof, and he was also glad that he could control the volume of the voice coming through the speaker.

Number Seven was roaring, and Athrun allowed himself a secret smile.

"I can't believe you let her find that basement of yours!" A long distance away and in his flustered state, Yzak threw out a hand in anger and it hit into a pile of papers on his desk, which knocked into another pile. He cursed openly into the phone. "When was this?"

'More than a week ago,' Athrun thought to himself. Aloud he said, "Two days ago. I've already covered it up as much as I can."

Athrun could guess what was going on from the sounds, and his lips twitched silently. In his own study, he gazed at it and realised that it was less neat than what he would have allowed for, except that Cagalli had been in here and he hadn't cleared up these few days. What was the point when she'd come in and they'd end up sweeping everything off the table to make love there anyway?

"Give me a second," He heard Yzak mutter. "Stupid things get in the way-,"

Athrun grinned, imagining Yzak's office. He'd been there once, right before he'd left for the Isle, and knowing Yzak, nothing much would have changed. Yzak's office was actually neater than what most of his subordinates would have expected of him. In other words, it was a bit of a mess but it wasn't a catastrophe.

Athrun cast his eyes towards the locked door, blanking out Yzak's tirade with the memories of much more alluring thoughts and sounds.

He had locked the door in case Cagalli wandered in, and he knew it was better to prevent that for now. While Yzak continued saying whatever he had to say, Athrun thought of how she'd come into his study yesterday in the late afternoon. From the looks of it, she'd been painting by the shore, but the twins must have gone there and told her he was back.

"And you left only a three-word voice message to tell me of what happened!" Yzak demanded, his voice modified into a strange, multi-layered stream. "I mean, for God's sake, can't you stop giving me heart-attacks? What the fuck am I supposed to guess from the words 'She found out' anyway?"

"Sorry about that. I knew you'd call back anyway. I didn't really have time to say more. I was meeting Kitani Harumi yesterday." Athrun told him mildly. Amongst other things, of course. He smiled a little to himself. His back felt a little sore from lying and being pressed hard against the wood of the table he was currently using in an infinitely more normal way.

"See! I told you she was smarter than you thought!" Yzak who was quite unaware of Athrun's distracted thoughts, was brewing into a huge storm. "She convinced you to let her in right?"

Athrun began to speak, but Yzak interrupted. "Don't need to tell me, I knew she was planning something." He began to say something again, something about upping the security.

Surely, Epstein and the maids were aware of Athrun's less than slavish behaviour to his work desk by now. Perhaps, they'd even found out about the first time when Cagalli had visited Athrun in his office and how they'd spent the subsequent afternoon locked in it, his files no longer on the table, but strewn all over the floor.

Roughly one and a half week had passed since he'd told Cagalli of what was happening, Athrun recalled, and the aides probably had more instances to certify that the captive was quite free to visit the study as and when she wished.

"So that way, she won't find out more-," Yzak was saying something that Athrun wasn't really listening to.

The week he'd spent with Cagalli had gone by far faster than Athrun cared to acknowledge, with him finding excuses not to meet up frequently with the Eyes on less important reports that he'd still gone for in the past.

Instead, he'd spent as much time as he could with Cagalli. For the past week, they'd had meals together, sparred for hours, and taken long swims near the coast. He had watched her paint and she'd watch him read. Neither of them vocalised their thoughts, but it was clear they wanted to be in each other's presences. For that matter, neither of them could resist each other.

As a result, they had made love frequently and sometimes, even indiscriminately in rooms that anyone could have walked into- particularly Epstein, the twins or even Ko. It only increased the thrill and danger involved, and Athrun realised he had never loved as deeply or as recklessly with anyone except her.

Yzak was still advising someone who was not paying attention. "And you should also ensure that the refugees who are in the East Wing are allowed to leave as quickly as possible-,"

Despite his better judgement, Athrun would seize her in his study or the library or anywhere, really, when she goaded him and distracted him from pouring through his work. She had more tricks up her sleeve than he'd ever thought possible, Athrun thought wryly, thinking of how she could brush innocently against him and then prevent him from being less than a meter away from her for the next few hours.

On more than a few occasions, he'd promptly locked the study and cleared his carefully arranged things from the table with a carelessness he never knew he could exhibit, and she would encourage him. Ironically, in the more sober moments, away from the dizzying sensation of his lips and hands on her, she was embarrassed and afraid that others would know of this.

Yesterday when he'd returned, Athrun thought with a grin, he'd pecked her on her cheek in front of Epstein at the dinner table, and Cagalli had actually tensed up and blushed, pushing him away a little. But hours later, she had been the one to make wild, pagan, love to him in the tight passageway of their previously separated rooms- the bonfire that prevented him from working with all his concentration even when she was not next to him.

"How did she get in anyway?" Yzak demanded, unaware that Athrun had been preoccupied with thoughts that were only tangentially related to what he had been going on about for the past fifteen minutes.

"It was an accident that she found the place." Athrun told his superior, when Yzak got back to the phone, probably having rearranged the fallen things or more probably crushed those to bits in a temper. "My aide was careless and she got into the study and found the adjoining room."

The voice grew even more agitated. Yzak was nearly spitting. "It was something you were supposed to prevent!"

"Relax." Athrun said casually, covering for Epstein as well. "She didn't find out about the Swedish Royals or the Halfs."

"She would have," Yzak gritted his teeth and rubbed his temples, knowing his subordinate would not be able to see him tear his hair out. "If she knew that the supposedly dead husband of the Swedish Crown Princess was alive and kicking, she'd ask questions and we'd all be in the worst shitstorm of the Cosmic Era!"

"It was all under control." Athrun told him stubbornly. "She's promised me not to leave the Isle."

"Control?" The caller snorted. "Promise? You must be joking! The last time, you allowed that madman under Greyfriars- what's his name-,"

"Decant Corriolis." Athrun supplied.

"Yes, whatever his name was," His superior said impatiently, "To get as far as her room. If you had been a second slower, he would have killed her. I told you, you don't take risks like that- you shoot first and question later! Or are you afraid that we won't cover your ass when it finally gets exposed?" The voice grew distinctively frustrated, "I've already told you that you don't have to be worried about these things- you're acting under Zaft and Plant's name and we're-,"

"I'm not worried about that." Athrun interjected. "I've never been. Remember when we committed war crimes while obeying Rau Le Creuset's orders? Zaft certainly cares enough to protect its soldiers."

"Don't use sarcasm with me!" The voice snapped. "I can assure you, on my own honour and even my head if you like, that I won't allow you to be tried as a murderer when all you were doing was kill in self-defence or on our orders! I'm no Rau Le Creuset, that's for sure!"

"I know." Athrun said quietly, allowing himself a smile. "I've always known that. What I want to know though, is why we can't bring her back to Orb. Won't Plant be free from questioning in the Galactic Courts? If nobody will questions our intent or how we reproduced the Orb Princess, why not let her go back now?"

He could almost imagine Yzak shaking his head. "We rather not complicate the situation for the Supreme Council. It's better if we stick with the scenario we originally planned for. The immunity you contributed to us obtaining is a bonus, but it doesn't mean we can throw aside the plans and let her go like that. Your orders are the same for now. Keep her on the Isle until we tell you she can go."

"Roger." Athrun said coolly. "I'll make her stay, that's for sure." Even if the Numbers had decided to send her back, Athrun knew he was reluctant to let Cagalli leave any sooner.

Yzak could sense Athrun's confidence, and that made him worried.

"On a side note, you should remember what your scope of duty is. You know the Numbers and the Eyes have immunity from the Galactic courts now," Yzak said firmly. "And that's partially thanks to the letter you sent to Kira Yamato, which made him approach Chairman Kanaver. But I think you know that while we can safely provide a defense for what the Eyes and the Numbers have been doing all this while when the time comes for it, anything you do beyond the scope of duty cannot enjoy the same protection Plant and Zaft would have given otherwise."

"You're really starting to become old," Athrun said impertinently. "I've heard that over and over again. You're boring me."

Yzak exploded. "Don't think I don't know where your relationship with her is headed! Do you expect me to play idiotic and pretend I'm not aware of the only way you could have made her promise to stay with you on the Isle?"

"How much do you really know, Seven?" Athrun sounded cautious now.

"I have my imagination." Yzak said drily. "And at this point, I'm actually afraid to use it. But between us, I'm wagering that you're trying to pull the wool over many parties' eyes."

'Not bad,' Athrun thought to himself. Yzak hadn't lost those killer instincts. But Athrun played along with Yzak. "You can guess anything you like. I'm not going to be an idiot and throw away what Plant and Zaft have promised me for my service."

"Let's hope not." Yzak's voice, even though distorted and modulated as usual, was clearly wary. "Whatever it is don't take things too far or too easily with Cagalli Yula Atha. I've seen her. We all know how she works and how tightly she manages Orb. A woman who removed all the political threats and potential competitors for power within a little more than a year is not one to underestimate, let alone someone with her character. She's a very clever woman- she'll escape if you even blink. I'm not sure if she's lulled you into some false sense of security."

"Don't worry." Athrun replied, thinking of Cagalli who was curled in his bed. While it was probably true that Cagalli's past actions had all aimed towards helping her escape, he knew that the truth was the exact opposite from what his superior was claiming. Cagalli was unlikely to leave even if enough escape routes were right in front of her.

"Now that she knows a little of what those terrorists are up to, I bet she's prepared to fight tooth and nail to go back to Orb." Yzak fretted. The modulated voice that Athrun was hearing seemed to squeak in its anxiousness.

Secretly, Athrun smiled.

Cagalli had fought him last night, that was for sure. She'd left two nasty pairs of scratches on his shoulders. He glanced at his hand, which sported a bite mark. She had been impatient, trying to take control of him, of them. But he smiled privately now, thinking of how she had finally allowed him to dominate her.

"Perhaps she needs something to occupy her." The person mused, still in his stream of consciousness. The irony was that the caller had somehow forgotten to be all business-minded, despite the intent of his call. "Maybe she wants something to spend her time on."

"Maybe." Athrun said diffidently. It was clear that all she wanted these days, he thought semi-humorously to himself, was to be bedded by him. It was obvious in the half-lidded gaze each time he happened to brush his fingers across hers during a meal, obvious in the way her voice became slightly hoarse and her lips a bit wet when she looked at him.

Her voice played in his head, a low, smoke-like moan raising itself to a soft cry of pleasure, and he nearly groaned. He wanted to get back to her and not stay here listening to the Numbers warn him not to get too close. After all, Athrun had long chosen to ignore all the warnings, slept with her more than a few times and was already destined to burn in hell. A few more warnings were pointless.

"What has she been doing recently?" Yzak demanded, suddenly realising that Athrun had not spoken up while he had been wondering about everything.

Athrun grinned, thinking of things that his superior had probably no idea of.

She would lie with him for hours and make love to him in return for his holding her, and even now, his body could still recall what she had felt like.

"Painting," Athrun said coolly, telling his superior of all the things Cagalli did when she was _not_ making love to him. "Sparring with my aides. Gambling with them. They like poker." He was guiding his superior as far off-course as possible. "Lazing around. Looking after Kitani Harumi's boy."

There was an intake of sudden air on the other end. "That woman's positively mad! The head of the underworld with the head of a superpower- you're asking for trouble."

"You're the one who suggested I speak to her when I came to you as a friend and asked that you take over the Zala enterprises," Athrun pointed out. "You're the one who told me you had a person you thought I'd like to meet. You knew she had heard of the Isle through her underground connections and wanted to get her son there."

"That was me being stupid, okay?" Yzak was sounding highly annoyed. "Kitani Harumi is trouble, and so is that Orb Princess! If Cagalli Yula Atha convinces Kitani Harumi to bring her back to Orb, we'd be quite screwed against Kitani Harumi. Yes, we can probably take her down, but we'd probably lose a few people doing it. She's a demon."

"Her son's not," Athrun reminded him. "And I think Cagalli likes children. She'd like that child- she spends a lot of her time with him and my aides."

"I don't care what you do as long as she stays put in that stronghold we assigned you." The man on the other end said uncomfortably. "I know you've carried a torch for her ever since you met her. But your duty must come first."

"I know." Athrun said reassuringly. "It has always come first. I'll keep her in check."

"You keep yourself in check too." Yzak warned.

"Don't you trust me?" Athrun responded wryly.

He looked at the mark on his hand, surveying it with some interest. Cagalli had bit him very hard on his hand yesterday, but he'd punished her eventually. When he'd finally let her fall asleep, she had whispered that when she got her energy back, he'd regret it.

He grinned, thinking about her.

The voice on the other side snorted. "Oh come on, we both know why you stayed behind at the Isle. Besides your saviour complex where Epstein Cleamont was concerned, of course. I try to trust you, but I'm beginning to wonder if I should. You have a chance to prove yourself now. Don't waste it on the past."

"I know." But Athrun was planning for the future already, and Yzak's advice was as good as a random whistle of the wind.

Perhaps Yzak sensed this, for there was a long sigh from him. "Do what you want. But don't jeopardise what with been fighting so hard to save for almost seven years. Your promotion awaits you too. And if you do this well, you know what the prize is. Your father used to say that all the time, didn't he?"

"Eyes on the prize." Both men muttered.

Athrun chuckled, thinking strangely fond thoughts of his father now. "That bastard."

"Give your father a little credit. He tried his best."

"Yes." Athrun said dutifully. "He screwed our lives in a way that was quite irreversible."

"You see? You haven't made much progress, despite your high-and-mighty , moral-arseness. You still hate him because you love him. But I'm not a shrink and I sure as hell am not yours. I'm off to get some sleep. You better too."

"I will." Athrun said simply. "I had a rough night."

"Good God! You don't mean-,"

And Athrun put down the phone, cutting off the line. He wanted to get back to bed too, since Cagalli would have probably awoken by now. There was nothing better than a rough night, than rough nights leading consecutively to a busy morning, Athrun thought with some regret, but he had other work to catch up on.

Sighing, he took a file from his desk, flipping through it. If he could get through this quickly, Athrun told himself firmly, maybe he'd get back to their room soon enough to be there when she woke.

All the same, Athrun knew he was clinging on to something very fragile.

The plans were in the final stages, and as long as Cagalli stayed on the Isle, those would be put into action in no time at all.

* * *

For the next few days, Athrun stayed with her.

Cagalli had never known what it meant to live, she realized. To live was to do something without inhibition, without a care, without reservation. If she had to hurt inside even when she was smiling by Athrun's side, wondering when he would leave again, then she would willingly do so.

Once, she'd asked Aaron why he subscribed to so many romance novels.

Looking at her straight in the eye, Aaron had told her that to find someone to love was a chance of a lifetime.

"Even one complete attempt at loving is not given to every single person on this earth. Love isn't everywhere, you know. At times, people are right for saying it's fiction. Maybe I've come to believe it is."

But if it did exist, and if it did exist in her lifetime, Cagalli knew that she had gotten her attempt.

They would lie in bed and talk, talk of everything they could talk about. She would tell him of all the new things in her house, how she had been coerced into buying those because she couldn't say no to Aaron Biliensky.

They talked about her favorite authors, about the times when they'd run off from events she had been asked to attend with her bodyguard, about the kind of weather he liked, about the paintings she had seen and wanted to see once more.

And inwardly, Athrun suspected that he was living a life beyond his means. When he had to leave in the morning, it was physically and emotionally painful to leave her, although he made it an effort to leave without waking her.

When he did, he lost every trace of gentleness and returned to his businesses with the ruthlessness that was demanded of him. When he was forced to handle slightly more complicated businesses, he disposed of the task quickly, then returned to his Manor, soaking himself until he was sure the rusty smell of blood did not cling to him any more

Guiltily, eagerly, he would return to her side, desperate to forget anything that was outside of the little happiness they could derive from each other, desperate to hold her and convince himself that for the few hours at least, she was pure and good enough to make him less blood tainted.

In his arms, Cagalli could not hide herself from him anymore.

She could laugh and cry so easily, shed of her steel and power, without any kind of defense. She told him of Arabella Debbie Biliensky, and Aaron's fondness of chocolates that he must have passed on to his little niece.

She told him of the house he had once lived in, and she would gently correct him when he mentioned some servants' names- for they were no longer there.

He, on the other hand, would try and imagine what the house looked like with Aaron's most recent additions to it, and she would fill in certain details and tell him exactly what had been added in and subtracted from the mix of furniture and antiques. Laughing, Cagalli would tell him about the chairs Aaron had threatened to chop and use as firewood, and he knew that she had been very lonely.

In return, Athrun would tell her of how Epstein used to amuse him by playing pranks when the boy had been younger, as a child would. It hadn't been too long ago, but there was always this passing of age when children became adults. Of course, both of them knew that this passing had been hastened by Athrun's bringing Epstein to the Isle.

And she would know that he was in pain although he hid it.

Slowly, he opened himself to her.

In the past, she had thought that having too many toys killed the excitement children ought to have in those. But after listening to Athrun hesitantly recount and mention the puzzles he'd been asked to solve as a child, Cagalli knew that a far worst thing was to grow up, lacking the understanding that those had been toys.

Cagalli found herself becoming part of him, as if she had entered some portion of him and had assumed some part of his identity. It was difficult to say what it was that made her feel that she _knew _him, but she found that she did.

They would trade stories, things about themselves that they had told nobody else about. They would lie in bed after a session of frantic, wild lovemaking, flat on their stomachs, talking and laughing, listening and learning.

He told her of his childhood, of the way he had once taken a pair of scissors and cut up the curtains and the table cloth. When his mother had told his father about it, his father had merely said, "That's all?"

So the seven-year old had taken the same scissors and cut up his own clothes, the smart little pair of pants and the jacket that his parents made him wear during special occasions. Again, his father had not been keen to hear about or address his son's latest misdemeanour.

But Athrun had taken to some documents that his father had arranged on the table in his room.

That had been the only time that he elicited a response from his father. His father had belted him, while his mother had locked herself up in her room, unable to watch.

And the boy had allowed himself to be beaten, not resisting, not crying out. When it had finally been over, his arms had been covered with welts and his legs with ugly red lines of the belt's contact with his flesh.

"Did you cry?"

"Of course." He had said calmly. "I got my ass whupped. Of course I cried."

"So your father finally snapped?" Cagalli had asked, looking up at Athrun while he stroked her fine golden hair and her white face and arms, his arms cradling her.

He frowned. "Of course not. It wasn't the accumulation of my misdemeanours. It was the fact that I'd done something that he'd actually felt affected by. The only thing that mattered to him was work, you see."

And nothing she said could make him think that his father had been primarily concerned with his career and ambition. Privately, Cagalli thought that it was probably the case that his father had not known how to love his wife and son even though he had.

Once, Athrun, at her prompting, told her of what it had felt like to kiss Lacus.

His first kiss, he told her affably, had been awkward. It had been curiosity which made him want to touch that white, pretty face, but all he could remember was the sweet taste of a melon-mint she had been eating at that time.

"Did you make any passes at her?" She asked inquisitively.

"Never had to," Athrun said simply. "We were already supposed to be together, so what was the point?"

Cagalli had laughed. And he'd looked at her, smiling, knowing that Lacus and he had never been in love with each other because their temperaments and tastes were far too similar. Here though, was a woman who had so many traits that were the polar opposite of Lacus'.

He had never really quarreled with Lacus- she was too patient, too understanding. She had never made him feel more than admiration- he was too used to her ways, too used to his own and the strange feeling that he had to be what his father demanded of him in Lacus' presence. Lacus was a little queen, a saint of sorts, an unblemished figure and a confidant. Nothing less but nothing more either. Their characters were far too similar.

But the woman in his arms was a firebrand, bursting with ageless energy, capable of being passionate to the point of being downright foolish, and with a natural sexuality that he'd noticed even when she had been something of a child.

She'd denied it along, encouraging the rest of Orb to do so as well so they would see her as a truly infallible force. But Athrun knew that even as a child, Cagalli had possessed that strange, indelible sexuality that men must have seen, for he had recognized it quickly and been attracted to her quite inevitably.

While he did not tell her of this, Athrun still told Cagalli exactly why his engagement to Lacus would have collapsed even if Lacus had not met Kira.

At the same time when Lacus had shown a growing unwillingness to be bound in an engagement to him, Athrun himself, had realized that since meeting the soldier on the island, he had thought of no other person except Cagalli.

Cagalli was privately touched, for he had volunteered the information without her requesting it, as if to allay her insecurities.

He told her of the first time he had killed a man- a Natural who had caught spying in the Zaft barracks. He offered no explanation for why he had felt compelled to do his duty- he'd only told her that he could still remember the man's face.

When he told her that, she saw how pale his face was, how cold his hands felt even around her.

And he told her of his mother- how she had never been able to begrudge his father of so many things when really, it would have done all of them some good if Lenore Zala had told her husband that he was being a bastard to his face. Of course, when Lenore Zala had died, his father tried to remedy that and ended up going mad in the process.

So in many little ways, Athrun and Cagalli absolved each other even though neither had the right to.

She would hold him tight, close to her, trapped in his arms as he lay above her, enclosing her with his weight. But he felt trapped each time he did this- she would stroke his cheek with her finger, and he would wonder why he was so helpless.

It wasn't fair, he reflected, that he could pin her onto the bed so easily, and yet, have her looking at him unafraid, as if she didn't know how bloodstained his hands were, how easily he could harm her.

Cagalli would look at him, through him, fearlessly, brazenly even, and she would reach to his mouth, his lips, and stroke him with a single finger. Every time she did this, he was sure that this was a kind of rape. While Athrun couldn't confirm from experience, having one invade his thoughts, his being, learn him against his will, was probably similar to it.

In a bid to regain control over himself, Athrun would seize her, crushing her with his weight, trying to make her understand that she had no reason to love him so fearlessly when he was so capable of destruction.

In those very moments, he almost wanted to make her hate him, so that he would remember that he didn't deserve her. But she would only look at him with slight apprehension at worst, anticipation at best, and let him enter her even if she fought him initially.

They spent many days in a tranquil fashion, with the light of the present distracting them from the reality of the Isle and what lay beyond it. It became a pattern they established; this pattern of living in a peace they had found, a peace they were so afraid of losing. Their statuses of captive and captor were blurred by the shared days of alighted happiness.

She had begun to draw and paint feverishly, as if she had somehow decided that the present world around her would be the only thing she would fill her thoughts and time with.

So Cagalli would sit and paint for hours. It seemed that she could not do enough of this, this transfiguration of her thoughts into paintings on the canvases. It was a sort of mental preservation for her- how she would fill her eyes and thoughts of everything she knew of the place, and how it would be emptied out on the canvas.

With every completed sketch or painting, it seemed that the Isle was no longer a dream or nightmare- it was her new reality, one with Athrun.

Without consciously finding a reason, Athrun liked to watch her sketch and paint.

She would sit on a stool, small, huddled, her brow fair even if slightly furrowed, concentrating on her environment and her representation of it. Her stool would tilt a little at times, when she was so intent on seeking something with her senses that she scarcely paid attention to anything else.

Each time he watched her, he became more enamored by her. As it was, he was- was there any other word?- besotted by her, more so than he had ever been.

She would sketch, vivid, wild lines of carefree spirit with the liberty of interpretation. He particularly enjoyed her paintings- intense, untamable dashes of color and energy even with the most dainty of flowers and structures.

When she painted a simple but charming scene of the twins on their knees, weeding and whispering to each other while working, it had been a raging fire, a burning fountain of colors with two pale girls in white, somewhere in the midst of the garden.

When she painted the maiden's hair fronds dipping into the pools where tiny fish raced, it seemed like a burnished mirror of moss, mysterious with light, accentuated with tiny specks of orange and gold with only thin streaks of cobalt to reflect the sky above the pond.

A shadow had been cast over the pond in her painting- her own and the easel's. Athrun would not have been surprised by her sensitivity to detail, but this level of it made him admire her more.

She painted the white flowering tree that they had stood under in Rochester's greenhouse. And it seemed that she had captured snow and frozen it onto paper, a smudge of gold for the discarded goblet he had drunk from at the tree's base.

Cagalli painted so many things. But he was most taken with a painting of her view, through the window, in their room, for his room had become theirs.

When she finished it in the dimensions she'd decided on and had presented it to him for his birthday, he'd taken a look at it and told her that he was certainly not going to hang it up anywhere but would keep it for himself and nobody else.

That picture was a window in itself, and it had been a window to her eyes through another window. Through her eyes, the view of the world through the window in their bedroom, was a magenta frost overlooking the sea, where a lone, midnight-hued divan lay some distance before the actual window. There were dabs of grey, shadows that melded into the semi-darkness, the sea beyond the window brighter than ever.

And those shadows were his and hers.

If Cagalli had been forced to replace her previous world with the Isle, then her paintings of every room she saw, of the yacht she had been on, then everything she painted was clearly an acceptance of the Isle.

While she painted, she did not speak, because she found no will or power to speak as she spilled her thoughts and memories, her own shadow cast on the canvas.

During those moments when she lost all desire to converse so as to concentrate on her task, he would sit with her.

He too, would study what he saw, and he would sketch. But the only thing he saw was her. And all his sketches were of her, each line etched not on paper, but in his mind, deep and vivid, as if he had taken a blade and etched scars into his own chest and arms.

Athrun didn't think she was aware of what he was doing by watching her- she was always too caught up in what she was doing to notice how others were observing her.

But he knew what he was doing.

He was trying to prevent her from leaving him, as if watching her everyday would prevent her from leaving the Isle eventually.

He would start his mental sketch from her hands, always her hands- her finger tips, small, like edges of flower petals, flowing into curved, tiny palms. Her hands were warm, soft and strong, although those were small hands, like a child's.

But her hands were expressive and sensual in white flesh when she touched anything with them, and those hands would flit and sketch across anything, whether paper or skin.

He often faced a dilemma in his silent sketching at that point- upon reaching her soft, small-rounded shoulders, where should he then look upon?

He could continue upwards, with her delicate collarbone and its angular ridges leading on to a sweet, pointed chin and her finely-shaped jaw. Her jaw was small, but it had that mould in it, that stubbornness, that set firmness to it that confirmed the strength of her character.

Her mouth was always the same, no matter her expression; it was a warm and full set of lips, inviting and passionate. When she teased him with it, he always ended up losing control over himself. He could not help it when it was her.

Her nose was but a path to the eyes he found so beguiling- those were large and expressive, though asymmetrical and almond-shaped, a cat's features.

Yet, upon reaching her shoulders, he could sketch downwards too. He could look past her collarbone, past the undeniable curves of her chest to the narrow taper of her waist, and to her slightly boyish hips. That was a strange, almost paradoxical element of her form- those hips. Those were narrow, small, like a boy page. But her thighs and rear were very soft, firm and full enough to show that she was a woman.

Her torso was beautiful- small and narrow waisted like a young page, but so womanly at the same time. Her breasts too- those were very difficult, almost impossible to ignore. Cagalli often wore just a singlet and shorts under an apron when she was painting, and he would gaze at the swell of her body from its profile.

She would sit on a stool, almost like a young page with her hay-colored hair, concentrating with her mouth pursed, but her body a woman's. He was always fascinated by her calves and feet, bare and creamy, swinging as she sat on the stool, oblivious to his presence and his observation of her.

Her feet were as talkative as her hands, her toes wiggling now and then to speak because her mouth could not bear to. They could arch in consternation when she was trying to sketch something difficult, and Athrun was amused by the way her feet were extensions of her thoughts and emotions.

Her calves were gleaming, slender curves, reminding him of how they felt against his own, how smooth they were when he ran his hands past her thighs, to rest on them. Naturally, he often found himself interrupting her work even though his very silence and quiet observation of her had been meant to avoid that situation.

Although he avoided conversation with her, preferring to leave her to her own devices, his mental sketching of her was a memorizing of every aspect of her- beyond her physical form.

Her features assured him of his presence, the way her attributes anchored him in space and time like coordinates. But with each feature came memories of her and the significance of Cagalli Yula Atha to him.

Athrun frequently found himself standing abruptly, no longer rooted in his seat, coming over to her, she still oblivious to him. He would take her head, press its back against his abdomen, watching as her eyes blinked and focused upwards towards him, watching him look down at her.

Then he would take the charcoal pencil or brush out of her hand, letting it fall to the ground where mats were spread out.

And he would kneel before her, holding her face to his, looking into her eyes, through her eyes.

One of his hands would be resting against her cheek, if not, at the back of her head, forcing her to look at him. The other of his hands would still hold her hand, and he would bring her hand to his mouth, kissing her wrist.

Although they both knew what this would lead to, she was always caught by surprise, eyes widened. Cagalli would gaze at him inquiringly, as with the innocence that she tended to look upon others with. She would look at him as if she didn't understand what he wanted to do to her, as if he were a harmless, entirely innocuous person, innocent like her.

It was always enough to launch the catapult of emotion and need in him, her hand in his, her cheek below his palm and its warmth the proof that his sketch was of a living thing. And the question in her eyes was always a sufficient signal for him to lose his last restraints.

He would wrestle the apron' strings loose, forcing her on her stomach to tug the knots loose, barely hearing her soft cries of surprise that would be muffled in the ground of wherever they happened to be.

And the apron would come loose as he tussled. Athrun would throw it aside, shifting her until he could bury his face in her lap, breathing in her scent of apples and musky-smelling flowers, inhaling until he was filled with nothing but her.

Cagalli would find herself demanding from him, encouraged by how readily he responded, how pleased he was when he found that he could please her.

Perhaps, their lovemaking was aggressive and very impatient because they instinctively knew that the little happiness they had found was so difficult to protect.

Then, only when they were completely satisfied, he would allow her to continue on the painting, but then they would fall back into the same cycle of temptation and giving in to it.

As they spent their days together, Athrun found no more than an absolute peace, and no less than a kind of fragile happiness- the way a caged bird was released into a sky, free but aware of the lurking dangers.

When he had her by his side, it felt similar to the past, as if the past hadn't gone anywhere. Of course, it was very different, they each knew that. They were different people, although they had found the same love once more. If anything, they were even more dependent on each other.

And when he had to return on some mornings, to meet the other Eyes, he found that he was very unhappy. It hurt to leave her, a warm, living entity, in a bed they had shared and breathed in.

For all his efficiency at his duty, Athrun knew he was a walking contradiction. He enjoyed and was very good at piloting a killing weapon, although he didn't enjoy the killing. He drew others to him, despite being slightly introverted by nature. And he was meant to be a tool for others, a sort of killing machine himself now, for others to drive around. But he was a thinking soldier- someone who could empathize with whosoever that died at their hands.

The other Eyes, save perhaps Sheba, were not capable of empathy. Lent rationalized, Tom and Barnett distracted themselves, and the rest of them were indifferent. The Eyes had never remarked on his general passiveness or the rare moments when flashes of Athrun's temper would present themselves- after all, he was an effective person, very efficient and rather competent.

But Athrun knew that they suspected that he was losing his conviction in duty.

He did not need their suspicions in order to be alerted of this. He knew that he had lost the conviction in his duty from the start, when he had been asked to eliminate Cagalli Yula Atha if the reason presented itself.

Every day, Athrun looked at her and prayed that time would stop, that the hourglass could be turned over and over and over, for as many times as eternity itself. But the days were being lost, and he knew that no matter how much he had of her now, he would have to let her go, every bit of her, every last trace of her. Six months would pass.

Duty demanded it. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

During the moments when he met the Eyes or gave his report to the Numbers, he would revert to being Rune Estragon. He was someone who didn't need to feel, someone who wasn't supposed to be any more or any less than an automaton.

Upon returning, Cagalli would take him in her arms and never question what he'd been doing while away. While he was glad for her trust, he was stricken with misery.

Each time he watched her fall asleep, Athrun found that he would be engulfed in that self-hatred. It had been hatred so strong it sustained his abilities and effectiveness in his duties, but a hatred so potent that he would die from the inside.

Being with Cagalli now was speeding up the inevitable- she was reminding him that he was alive now, capable of loving and being loved now. But when she had to return, he would still be trapped on the Isle, watching as she slowly forgot him back in Orb.

No matter how passionately they lived and loved, there would be a day when she would grow cold and respond very little to a memory that was vanishing swiftly too.

He would watch as she slipped away, through his fingers. While Athrun could not help that, he decided as he watched Cagalli run and play with Ko and the twins along the shoreline that he would at least prevent her from being harmed.

So he often looked at her silently, unable to tell her what he was thinking, unable to express his fears even as she laughed and smiled and stayed by his side.

* * *

1 month. 25 days.

* * *

**A/N:** Dear readers and reviewers, thank you for all the overwhelming responses to the last chapter! Yes, I enjoyed getting to the point where they were honest with each other too, but there's definitely still some way to go, as you would have inferred from this chapter. I did plan for the Isle to finish by New Year, but I guess that still depends. Whatever the case is, a Merry Christmas and Happy upcoming New Year to you!

On a side note for those who were wondering, the past wikipedia bios of Siegel Clyne actually stated he was of Scandinavian descent, and that Athrun (and presumably his father) was of European descent. The Yamatos and Hibikis were stated to be of Japanese descent (duh). But I think those bios have been updated since t hen and that information has been recently ommitted. Too late for them I guess- I kinda incorporated it into the fic by then, and I'm not about to change that. :)


	24. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

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Chapter 23

* * *

"Look- it's her-,"

The Rochester Manor was a place that Cagalli knew she would never get used to. There was something foreign about this place, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about it all at once. She could only pray that if she ever had to go for events in Orb at some point in the future, she would not be reminded of this place.

The halls felt warmer and stuffier than she could recall, and Cagalli was glad she was not wearing any gloves today. Nor did she wear the furs that the women were boasting to each other about. She had taken one look at the white fox fur that Athrun had passed to her and had told him, "If I weren't your lover, I'd have killed you."

He'd laughed, throwing it back into the car. "It's not like I was the one who killed the fox."

"I don't care." She'd said stubbornly. "I'm not wearing that. I'd rather freeze."

Now, Cagalli passed a woman who was balancing six small minks on each shoulder. As the woman shuddered with laughter, the minks seem to conspire amongst themselves and vibrated, their tails shaking. Cagalli repressed her own shudder.

"Look at her-,"

She trod carefully, aware that heads were turning and glasses were being lifted to lips to hide whispers that still echoed.

Even the flowers in their crystal bowls seemed to be opening their petals and showing their faces, peeking at her. As usual, this place was as packed and busy as a carnival, and the midnight hues, rich maroons and dark emeralds made the place look starved for soberness.

"There she goes- isn't she brazen- without a single glove or fur stole again-,"

"What does he see in her when there are girls like me-,"

Some women turned with their fans, sniffing, although their partners continued staring.

Cagalli ignored them, continuing her walk down a path she could barely make out except that people were clearing the way for her.

There seemed to be no point in walking, because she was not sure what she was looking for. And even if she was looking for something, Cagalli realised, she would not be able to find it in here.

"God- look at her dress- look at her-,"

Athrun had certainly picked well, and as she passed along the others, she knew she was a single blot, a snowdrop swirling in the midst of fighting, cawing crows.

When she'd finished her bath and had stepped out and to dress in their room, he'd been already dressed and waiting.

Athrun had been sitting on their bed with a soft smile on his lips and a silvery- white dress on his lap. Because she'd agreed to go with him to Rochester's place, she had to be prepared to wear these things as Lyra once again. But at that point, she'd been somehow very glad to see that it was a different dress- one she'd never worn before.

As she took her steps forward, oblivious to what people around her were talking about, Cagalli thought of the dress she'd worn here as a disguise before today.

If the gold dress that had been made similar to Lyra's had struck Cagalli as excessive and overtly luxurious, this one was very different.

While the gold one had bared her shoulders completely, along with an uncomfortable amount of her chest and thighs, this white dress seemed far more bearable.

Still showy, its heart-shaped front dipped low enough for a necklace to be flaunted, and the full skirt at the back was a misguiding disguise from the way the train tapered upwards to reveal her knees and the rest of her legs.

At least, Cagalli thought with some relief, her thighs had been covered completely. It had made Cagalli feel less exposed with its colour, and she had put it on wordlessly.

As Cagalli had slipped into the dress that he'd chosen in front of the mirror, she'd felt his lips trail roughly over her neck.

Even as he helped her zip up from the back, she felt Athrun kiss her softly near her shoulder. The overt sensitivity to the way he was touching her had made her realise that there was a kind of caution in him.

She had gazed into the mirror before them- the mirror that was becoming only too familiar now. Athrun's eyes had not been easy to read, nor was his expression since half of it was hidden by her shoulder.

But she had been able to see uncertainty, and she had recognised some insecurity in it. After all, her own hace had been reflected in his eyes.

And Athrun had pressed her backwards, towards him, hugging her. At that time, Cagalli had known that he had probably not wanted to ask her to go with him. When he'd asked her if she was willing to follow him to Rochester's manor for a function he had to attend, she'd agreed without second thought.

He hadn't wanted her in this place again, Cagalli decided now, staring around at the painted faces. He hadn't wanted her in this place where the people were those he was protecting even though they deserved to face their crimes elsewhere.

"What do you want me to wear this dress with?" She'd asked him. Her voice was tentative. Still, he'd proven to her that the golden dress and diamonds she'd worn had been similar but not the same set that Lyra had once worn. "The diamond necklace? Lyra always wore that, right?"

He had left her to fetch something from the box, shaking his head. "No, not tonight. Wear the amber for me."

The low front had been mitigated by a heavy collar of beaten, golden amber- dozens of small blossoms linked together to fall like tendrils over her collarbones. Matching earrings were worn too, and those fell some distance from her earlobes, dangling a little.

"That's Lyra Delphius-," One woman was shaking her companion's arm. "Remember? She cut her hair, but that's her- no doubt about that."

"Really?" Another person was saying. "Looks a bit different, y'know? Scratch that- looks rather different-,"

Another was saying impatiently, "She came in with Rune Estragon- she looks very different today, but that has to be her- that's the same blonde hair-,"

Her thoughts were suddenly shaken as she found herself being whirled around, the music suddenly louder in her ears than what she could be capable of drowning out.

Her nostrils were invaded by all sorts of glorious scents and overpowering perfumes, and her senses were assaulted by an entire barrage of excess. Grimly, she smiled.

As she took another step forward, some murmurs became clearer than the others. A man was saying something to his companion and she caught a little of it.

"I'm not sure how much he's paying, but I wouldn't mind a piece of that myself-,"

As Cagalli strolled along the vast hall, ignoring those who were talking about her, she felt herself become lost amongst them once more. The winter had arrived and the lawns were covered in snow, carpeted with white purer than the lush foxes and furs on the women's shoulders.

The fairy lights had been strewn across the shrubs and bare-branched trees outside, and for a second, Cagalli wished she could be there instead of this place. The snow was heavy outside and the winks of the lights she could see through the lined windows were more dazzling and called out to her more than anything inside here would.

In the hall, the chandeliers were swinging once more and the golden light streamed everywhere onto the more ostentatious jewels. The self-proclaimed Lords and Ladies of the Isle were moving from table to table- from one square of the dance-floor to another.

There was a turkey on every table, and the wine was being poured ceaselessly once more. The couples dancing did not seem to pause either, nor did the orchestra. She had asked Athrun where they had appeared from, and Athrun had smiled with that humourless expression and informed her that many had brought their servants over with them.

"Not a bad deal for being a criminal," Cagalli thought dryly to herself, passing by a group of men and women who were playing cards while stuffing themselves with food.

"Lyra," One man with flashing emerald cufflinks was calling out to her, and Cagalli turned, feeling his hand on her shoulder.

Cagalli stared at him. Pale blonde and with fine features, this man also had queer, unblinking red eyes like a reptile's. She shivered, despite the fact that he was handsome and a few other women were probably undressing him with their eyes. She could not recognise him. Athrun had told her of who some of the guests and the Isle-dwellers were, and while she did not know their names, she knew enough.

His voice was steady because he had not drunk too much, but the laugh in it and the gesture was not lost on her. He did not look half-bad, Cagalli thought, but he did not look like anyone she wanted to get to know either. "Come here- I want to speak to you and get acquainted with you-,"

"No, thank you."

"But where else would you go?" He laughed surreptitiously. "It's packed in here anyway."

"I was planning to get some fresh air outside."

"It's cold!" He looked surprised, then his expression became strange with his half-lidded gaze. "Why don't you stay here and warm up?"

"I'd rather freeze outside." Cagalli introduced some acid into her tone and tried to move off.

She should not have turned around, she realised. She should have ignored this man, who'd had the audacity to call openly to her as if he knew her and put his hand on her like this.

"I'm Tate Nelson." He introduced himself, "Played the cello and conducted for a while," He shrugged, looking at her with a devious expression. "Won a few competitions, and then came here."

Because of what Athrun had told her, she immediately assumed that this man had been talented as a Coordinator but had gone the wrong way and bought people to rise to his position in the past.

She gazed at his slim white fingers and saw the marks of old calluses on his finger pads.

He probably did have his skills, Cagalli realise, but he had done unforgivable things to earn more than what his genes had already given him a head start for. Coordinators like him, Cagalli decided, had probably caused the deaths of the innocent ones.

"And what about you?" He was saying, "Where'd you come from before the Isle?"

Cagalli pursed her lips.

"You play any instruments wells? Sing the high notes, maybe?"

There was a leering tone in his voice that she despised. What had Athrun advised her to do tonight? Oh. That was right. She remembered what he'd told her as he'd led her from the car.

Athrun had bent close to her ear and whispered, "Be yourself tonight."

She hadn't had time to clarify that, but Cagalli supposed she'd go with the most instinctive interpretation of Athrun's instructions.

A grim smile played on her lips as Tate Nelson asked again, "Where'd you come from before this, Lyra?"

"That's none of your business." Cagalli said coldly. "I'd like to be left alone, Mr. Nelson."

But Tate Nelson only laughed again and leaned closer, smiling. "True. I did forget that the rudest question to ask any man or woman here is what they were doing before they came to the Isle."

He shrugged. "But I couldn't help asking-," His eyes roved at her and disgusted, Cagalli wanted to pull away, except that he'd had her hand firmly in his. "I do forget myself when I see a woman like you."

"Well," Cagalli said frostily, "Maybe you should give yourself a slap and try to remember. Or shall I aid you?"

Tate Nelson only grinned. "I did hear many things about you, Lyra, but I never heard you were so feisty. You always struck me as the quiet sort. But you're a real wildcat, aren't you? I'm in luck then- I like that sort of woman."

Instantly, he'd pulled her to him, his hand finding its way to her waist and the other on her hand as she was drawn into the waltz. "The women here on the Isle are just too prissy for me. Too posh- but hey, that's why they came here, right? I wasn't like them and I didn't have it easy from day one. I had to work, believe it or not, to get where I was. So they aren't like you and me, Lyra, they don't know what hard work is."

Cagalli considered what he'd said but still decided that she disliked him. "I'm not sure what you mean by hard work."

He shrugged as she tried to pull away again, a little more firmly this time. "Loads of the Coordinators here were born rich from the start. But I wasn't, and that's why I had to work even when I was already good at my music." His eyes studied her. "I heard you didn't come from anywhere outside the Isle. You don't know anything else outside it, right?"

She wondered what to say, then thought better of it and clamped her mouth firmly.

Tate Nelson spun her around. "I could tell you about the world outside the Isle. It's not a bad world. It's got some nice things. It's just that this place is nicer and you were born into the best place on Earth. The Isle."

Cagalli was silent.

"So how about it?" He ran his hand on her waist lower, and she flinched, glaring at him until he paused. "I could talk to you about the world outside, if you followed me."

"No, thank you." Cagalli did pull away now, and she began to leave. "I've never found the need to know or to get myself in stupid situations."

He took a few steps in the direction she had chosen and caught her back to him. His smile was more pleasant than she'd noticed, Cagalli realised, but there was something about him that she didn't quite like.

Nor did she like him anymore when he spoke. "I was right! You're the sort I go for- I don't like the other kinds who shut up when I ask for silence. They remind me of dogs."

"I think you're mistaken, Mr. Nelson. I'm not any sort of woman you want to associate yourself with." Her eyes narrowed, but Cagalli found that she could not have said the worst thing. He seemed genuinely amused by her reaction, and as she tried to pull away and leave the dance she was suddenly in, Tate Nelson pulled her nearer yet.

And then he laughed once. "Oh, I don't think you've understood me. I don't go for Madame Chanteuse's girls, that's for sure, but you're not one of hers anymore, are you?"

It was a laugh of derision and slight contempt, and Cagalli bristled inwardly.

"Your husband," He pronounced the word with a little sneer that suggested he didn't believe the introduction Rune Estragon had made, "Is busy with the other guests. Didn't he agree to take that tour with Yvette? He's being a good guest and socialising with the others. So should you."

"Where was Athrun?" Cagalli thought desperately, trying to pull away from Tate Nelson.

Outwardly, she looked at this imbecile with supreme disdain and infinite dignity that would have done Ezalia Joule and Kitani Harumi proud respectively. "My husband is a businessman who makes use of every opportunity to speak to people who he finds useful to him. Similarly, he would not like me to waste my time here."

He ignored the insinuation and began to make her move to the beat of the music.

"Say," Tate Nelson remarked, his eyes travelling from her eyes to her lips and then further south, "You've got a marvellous dress there. Not as nice as that golden one," He leered at her yet agin, "But I've never seen anything look quite so good on anyone. No wonder Estragon only has you as his consort. With you hanging off an arm, anyone would look good."

"On the contrary," Cagalli said drolly, "I think beautiful women should keep unattractive men on their arms to make themselves look even more attractive."

"Really?" Tate Nelson laughed at what he thought was her wittiness. "I suppose you're sticking around with me because you want to look more attractive then?"

She decided not to tell him that she would rather be scrubbing toilets. "At least you have a mirror at home."

He turned her around, preventing his partner from being switched even when it was time to trade partners. She wasn't sure whether to be glad or not that she was still stuck with him. The next person could be potentially worse. At her sullenest, Tate Nelson seemed to grow more confident.

"You know, Lyra," the dance partner she'd found herself with was saying loudly, "I've been to every of these parties and I know almost everyone on the Isle. I've seen you time and time again with him, but you never spoke much. I never got to talk to you. You always kept to his side- not like today, when you're by yourself."

"Joy." Cagalli muttered, thinking of how Athrun had left her. He'd whispered, "I got some business to settle, so stay calm and try not to get swallowed by them while I'm gone."

He'd disappeared before she could protest, and even then, Cagalli knew it was unlikely for her to. After all, she'd agreed without hesitation to come here with him when he'd asked her to. She'd looked at him straight in the eye and told him that she would follow him if he wanted her by his side. If he had some business to settle, then so be it.

She had planned to walk around a little, but Tate Nelson had stopped her and now she was here, stuck with him.

"And you never looked more beautiful." Tate Nelson was saying. "Maybe it's this short hair? It makes you look very different, actually. I almost didn't recognise you."

Focusing back on Tate Nelson, Cagalli found herself irritated at how he was taking the opportunity to stare at her like she was something of an exhibit at a zoo.

All the same, she was glad that she'd come with Athrun.

"What do you want me to say when I'm there?" In the car, her voice had been quiet, afraid, despite what she'd already decided. The blindfold had still been used, even though she knew it would be taken off once they reached.

"Don't worry about that." Athrun had replied. "Let them think what they want to think. If they address you as Lyra, you can ignore them."

"I won't," She'd decided. "Not because of anything, but only because you requested that I come with you."

He'd turned her around to face him and smiled gently even though she could not see him. Nevertheless, she heard it in his voice. "Thank you."

At this point, Cagalli ignored Tate Nelson's compliment and tried to pull away again, short of kicking him in the nether region and punching the lights of him, the frustration evident in her tone. "I should really be elsewhere, Mr. Nelson- I-,"

"Estragon's got good taste, that's for sure," Tate remarked blithely. "Whether in choosing the dress, the jewels you wear, or the person he brings along." He clucked his tongue in what he thought was a charming manner. "Good thing I share his taste."

Cagalli burnt with indignation and her voice rang with sarcasm. "He'd be insulted to hear that anyone spoke of sharing his taste. Particularly if the person was someone like you, I think."

She must have riled Tate Nelson finally, for his smile was replaced with a frown then a sneer. "I'm sure he wouldn't be insulted if I told him that I wanted to share you with him though." He smirked arrogantly. "Estragon would probably take it as a compliment. I suppose you already know this- the rooms and beds here are large enough for three, so how about it? I can stay tonight, if it's for someone like you. I can give you some lo-"

And Cagalli chose that moment to step hard on his foot with her heel. It was the precise moment when he'd had his back turned to her, for it was when Tate Nelson had turned because someone had tapped on his shoulder and distracted him.

So in that moment, Athrun's fist met his smug face and Cagalli's stiletto sank into his tender foot.

His single cry of pain from two different sources was drowned by the crescendo of the orchestra and the swell of the crowds. He fainted immediately, crumbling to the floor.

Smilingly, Athrun bowed to Cagalli, his hand in a gallant gesture as he stepped neatly over the fallen man.

Cagalli took the hand that Athrun had offered very graciously, and returning his smile sweetly, she kicked Tate Nelson one more time, not bothering to even watch him make a muffled 'oof'.

And then, she curtseyed to Athrun, her new dance-partner, and let herself be led off.

Peering behind her, Cagalli gathered that the crowds continued to dance and that nobody had noticed the person on the floor. One couple did, but dismissed it as one of those idiots who'd gotten too drunk too early in the evening and continued their waltz.

Laughing under her breath, she held tightly onto Athrun's hand as they half-walked, half-scampered past people who were blinded by the lights. The world did not turn for them even when many heads did, but neither of them could have cared less. For them, all that mattered was that they were escaping from that dizzying scatter of colours and that her hand was warm in his.

A man called out to him as they hurried past a long row of joined tables, but Athrun ignored him.

A few women tittered, waving over to Athrun as she marched after him, their hands twined, and Cagalli stared at them although Athrun seemed not to have heard.

Once more, everybody seemed to know him, except that he did not seem to want to pretend to know them anymore than she did.

As they neared the end of the hall, she could see the snow falling even more heavily from the windows. A row of very tall pillars were in front of those windows, and those cast elongated, finger-like shapes of darkness, shielding those who hid behind from the crowds.

He peered behind one massive pillar, turned to her with a small smile, and signalled that it was safe. Trusting him, she hurried towards him as he darted behind the pillar.

But six pillars and at least ten metres away, Cagalli noticed that there was another couple were kissing nosily with their hands all over each other. As strange as it seemed, Cagalli wasn't been repulsed by the actions that mirrored what could possibly be her own with Athrun. Like the unnamed people in their own corner, she was choosing to joke and fool around like this with Athrun, and the thought of what she was indulging in gave her clandestine pleasure.

As Cagalli stared openly at both of them, they seemed to jump with the realisation that there were other people behind the pillars now, and scurried off like startled rabbits.

"Hey, there were other people here." Cagalli told Athrun anxiously, "We shouldn't have come here."

Athrun only smiled carelessly, "They should have stood their ground then. Besides, I chose a different pillar. If they weren't comfortable with us around, then they should have gotten a room."

She smacked his arm playfully and then leaned closer. "What about us?"

"We're not doing anything indecent like them, so we won't have to run off when others might show up," He said with mock innocence. "We're just- you know, taking a breather."

"Right," She said mockingly. "We're only here to get away from the crowd. A pure, simple reason."

Before he could answer, Cagalli had pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply, imitating what the woman had been doing with her own lover. The way she kissed him was clearly proof that she didn't care two hoots about what the woman six pillars away had probably been worried about- being found out.

In fact, Athrun realised, she was probably having her own secret fun too, and if a thousand people had suddenly appeared behind the pillars, she would have still continued manhandling him. Her eyes were twinkling and her smile was mischievous.

"Hold it, hold it." Athrun panted, feeling her fingers dart everywhere. "Wait-,"

"No." She said fearlessly. "I never got to do this in Orb because you were such a good boy and I was so scared of being caught." Her eyes gleamed. "But that's different here."

He kissed her back, hoping to placate her, then tried to break it off, panting slightly. But as he tried to separate himself from her, Cagalli began running her hands over his chest.

He moaned into her kiss, excited by her sudden recklessness and the danger she was flirting with. Now he understood what Cagalli had been thinking about when she'd spied on the couple some distance away. She'd been planning how to do the same with him.

Giggling uncontrollably now, Cagalli followed him as he leaned behind the pillar in the shadows, and she hugged him joyously.

He tugged open the first button of his shirt, breathing deeply, and his eyes laughed with her even in the darkness. She smiled and felt him pull her closer to him, her fingers wandering on his face and tracing his cheekbones.

"How did you know that I was going to snap with Tate Nelson, by the way?" Cagalli said breathlessly.

"I saw you." Athrun said mildly, catching his breath back a little.

"Well, I saw you making your way through the dance couples from over his shoulder," She explained, grinning.

"That jackass," Athrun muttered. "He thought I couldn't see from where I was, did he?"

Behind that pillar, she leaned onto him, burying her face in his chest, her giggles melting into his own chuckles. Cagalli reached from behind the pillar suddenly, grabbing a drink for them both to share, and the red wine tasted sweeter than she'd expected. The servant who'd floated by their pillar didn't even notice her swift action.

She sipped from it, and then gave the rest to Athrun, who downed it and peered from behind the pillar once more.

As a second waiter went drifting by, he replaced the glass as swiftly as she had taken it and grinned at her.

"You punched him." Cagalli made a 'tsk' sound at him. "A little extreme, aren't you?"

"Serves him right," Athrun managed after he could stop laughing. "He should have known it was coming."

In the shadowy corner they'd chosen, in their little place where they could breathe, he bent his head down as they leaned on each other and shared their joke.

In these shadows, in this corner where nobody could see, had Athrun and her become like one of those couples or those people gorging themselves at their tables?

She was laughing with him and, they were pressing themselves to each other, their bodies were too close for them to think carefully, and Cagalli wondered if she'd lost herself with him.

At the same time, a random waiter passed by, totally oblivious to what was probably common activity in this frequently held party, and Athrun neatly placed the empty glass on the tray and looked at Cagalli.

Then Athrun kissed her briefly, and before she had time to respond, Athrun broke the kiss and led her away from there, towards the lights again.

"Hey," She protested, "Why don't we go towards the greenhouse? It's warm there- we'll be alone, and we can speak openly-,"

In fact, Athrun had just returned from there. He thought of what Tom Edgeworth and Alstarice Krieg were doing there and shook his head. Even when he could trust Alstarice to do things fast and without any fuss, Athrun knew Alstarice needed some time to get the bodies out of the way.

He'd been careful not to get any blood on his clothes, and he'd visited the washroom before this to neaten up a little. Yvette Kanabaria had taken a longer than expected time to be stunned, and she'd actually managed to pull at his sleeve as she'd collapsed with two others. The cufflink had been loosened and Athrun had needed to fix that. Now however, he looked impeccable.

Athrun decided not to tell Cagalli that there were three Isle-dwellers who had tried to sell information to people outside the Isle and were being punished for that. The three would be safely locked away on the Seventh Isle and nobody would see them ever again. Cagalli didn't need to know that.

She was looking at him curiously. "Don't you want to get out of here? The greenhouse isn't occupied right?"

"I don't know. I haven't been there. But we're not going now," Athrun told her playfully. "I rather we dance first."

Hopefully, he prayed, Alstarice, Tom and Lucretzia were already finishing up the job.

"Dance in this crowd?" Cagalli pulled a face, grabbing a strawberry from a tray that drifted past her and stuffing it to Athrun's mouth when he turned.

He ate it, noting its sweetness and letting its juice dribble from onto his tongue. She was helping herself to one too, and he nodded. "Yes. Dance."

Her voice was an incredulous laugh. "Dance? You call this a waltz?"

"Yes, it does resemble a shuffle more than anything else." Athrn agreed with a grin, and she laughed, glad for once that the crowds were camouflaging them.

She took the chance to press against him, aware that nobody would comment even if they saw what was happening in the midst of the furious activities. "That's revenge for what you started in the car."

Athrun raised an eyebrow, although his voice dropped into a dangerous whisper as they held each other close, swaying in the beat. "Oh? You mean you're taking me on right now?"

"Why not?" Cagalli whispered back. She pressed closer to him, knowing that it looked entirely normal with this crowd. Her chuckle was low and her eyes sparkled. "You probably want me to."

He laughed softly. "Yes, I do. But not now."

Smiling courteously at some guests who nodded at them from the dinner tables, he led her out of the shadows. Athrun placed her hand on his shoulder, putting his hand lightly on her waist, and they stepped off. Automatically, people around them cleared some space, distancing them from the other couples a little.

As he had before, Epstein had driven them here, with Cagalli blindfolded as usual. But Athrun had sensed that Cagalli found no more mistrust in her and no more suspicion, particularly because his hand had been holding hers through out the ride.

Studying Athrun, who held her close and let her lean her head against him as they swayed in the music, Cagalli recognised the heat building in her again. He wasn't looking at her but at nothing in particular, humming silently it seemed, under his breath.

In the car, she had been aware of his nearness, and she had become attuned to his pulse and his scent.

She'd moved closer to him during the ride, feeling his thigh next to hers, and she'd felt his hand move around her shoulders. His other hand had lifted her face for their lips to touch.

When she had felt his other hand stroking her face even when she remained blindfolded, Cagalli had found no hesitation in lifting her face, responding to him.

While she had been a little wary that Epstein was driving the car, Cagalli knew that a curtain had always blocked the passengers' compartment from the driver's and the front seat.

From the insistency of Athrun's touch though, Cagalli had wondered if he'd done the same even if the driver's view had not been obscured. Blindfolded, she'd been more than willing to be guided and dominated, and Athrun had teased her until she was quite breathless from trying to keep her silence, lest Epstein hear them.

Now, she refocused on Athrun, who was twirling her around expertly. As she watched him, he looked back at her with a semi-smile, observing her.

"You know," She said to him with a twinkle in her eyes, "Dancing really doesn't do any good for you or for me now. Since I came here of my own will, I'd rather do something different."

"Risky?" Athrun looked amused. "Like what? Everything here is what you'd have expected. I can't think of anything staler than what's been going on for a few hours and will last until the early hours of the morning."

"Point noted." She spun around in his arms, looking around the massive hall.

As the beat varied, the music shifted, as did the people. On the dance floor, partners were exchanged, but Athrun kept his hand on her waist, declining when another man seemed to want to exchange his partner. Cagalli stared, surprised at Athrun's insistence and the man's sudden pause as he ignored the music that had already started.

"Not fair-," The person complained, somehow not keen to continue dancing even though most would have shrugged at Athrun's refusal and continued. "You haven't exchanged partners for three whole songs-,"

"I apologise," Cagalli heard Athrun telling the man as they continued to dance in each others' arms. "The only person who won't be bothered by my stepping on her feet is my wife."

The complaint-maker's female partner looked at Athrun, her lips moist. "Want to bet?"

Athrun quirked his lips at her, still holding Cagalli tight as they swayed a little, ignoring the couple that were both pausing amidst the field of dancers, staring at them both. "No."

"Hey," The man tried again, adjusting his impossibly large sapphire that glittered loudly at his throat. "Let's just take it that you're doing me a favour by exchanging partners, I want to get to know other people too."

Not missing a beat, Athrun continued to move, his tone still polite but his stare becoming pointed. "I prefer to keep my partner, thanks." Cagalli buried her face in his chest, inhaling his musky aftershave, liking his presence. Like him, she ignored the two and continued to dance, taking her time to press closer against Athrun.

The tables were either being used for the banquet or other activities like a bunch of people smoking in a corner and laughing amongst themselves. She could hear the noise in her ears even when she'd blanked the sights out, and she could still hear the grievances of the man who'd protested when Athrun had refused to switch partners.

"Hey, you can't keep to one partner the whole time," The man was complaining again. "Did you hear-,"

"Screw off." Athrun told him shortly. Still keeping in time, he swung Cagalli around and shielded her from the man's eyes, his back turned to the couple, who shrugged and continued to dance.

When they danced further away from the two, Cagalli looked at Athrun and smirked. He did the same and then they laughed again, sharing another joke once more.

"Tell me who they were," She requested.

He looked down at her, his lip curling and his voice very hushed. "You mean their current identities or who they were before they came here?"

"Who they were before they came here." Cagalli replied. "Tate Nelson too." She gazed up at Athrun, admiring him.

As he'd dressed, she'd watched him putting on those layers and becoming that slightly aloof, entirely different person. Here in their circumference though, she knew who he really was, and relished the fact that only she knew his identity and him.

"The man you saw just now was a very rich banker before he came here." He whispered. "But he got caught with sticky fingers by the European government. He and a few others got death threats from the Naturals who were cheated of their money and he fled here. The woman he was dancing with was one of those bankers too. They've been having an affair for quite some time, but they're mostly harmless. As for Tate Nelson-,"

"He told me he played the cello and conducted in orchestras before this," Cagalli offered quietly. They shifted against each other, Athrun still controlling the beat and Cagalli following quite effortlessly.

Athrun smiled wryly. "Wasn't lying then. He was quite a famous, upcoming musician. But he got too ahead of himself and bribed some agents into signing him on. When he was found out, it didn't matter that many musicians do that and that he did have talent anyway. All that mattered was that he was a Coordinator who was exceptionally gifted. Some Naturals tried to kill him in a brawl and he escaped here."

"Oh." Cagalli whispered. She cast her eyes around over Athrun's shoulder and then said, "What about that woman with the blue dress?"

Athrun pretended to shift positions, his feet precise and his steps well-executed. He spied the person she was talking about, a polished, rather attractive young woman with wide set eyes and porcelain skin, and then whispered to her, "She was the heiress to a whole chain of hotels in New Zealand and she escaped here with her father. Her father was found to have gotten hit-men to eliminate his business rivals."

His brief answer made Cagalli look at him in curiousness. "Wait, didn't she do anything wrong? I picked her out because she looked rather young and I was thinking that if they all came here many years ago then she had to be a child when she was brought here."

"Not all of them did bad things," Athrun muttered. "Some are suffering because they were born Coordinators and their Coordinator parents did stupid things that had to make them leave wherever they were. But then again, I'm not sure they are suffering just because they don't really know what lies outside the Isle."

She bit her lip, staring at Athrun. "How do you know who's scum and who's the innocent guy on the Isle?"

He shrugged again, knowing that the unknown answer or the lack thereof had been the precise thing that made him protect the identity of the Isle-dwellers despite his own dilemma. "Whoever said there were clean-cut lines in everything?"

This time, Cagalli cast her eyes around and spotted the plush red spaniels that she had the previous time. Her eyes lit up, but then she spied something else.

Some people were surrounding those, and she realised with shock that one or two were either very young men and women or even arguably boys and girls. The hall was filled with the sounds she could recall even days after coming home from Lady Rochester's party, and Cagalli felt an indelible pang of loss and sadness.

Were those the children that some Coordinators who'd fled to the Isle had given birth to while living here? Or were they even children who had known nothing when their Coordinator parents had fled with their riches and their families in a panic after being exposed in their previous homes?

Were those children wrong as well, for what their parents had done? Were they wrong, and did they deserve to be protected along with their parents on this place where they lived their days in this daze and in an endless holiday mood?

Cagalli found herself unable to answer Athrun as they continued to dance.

* * *

In the greenhouse, something of a minor accident had occurred.

Tom Edgeworth, Alstarice Krieg and Lucretzia Nombre, were staring at the last body they had yet to shift out of the greenhouse. Alstarice's own aide had already driven off the previous bodies, but it seemed pointless to ship a corpse to a jail.

The ferns hid them well, and the earth was soaking up the spilt blood fast enough. Still, Tom felt a little annoyed at the unnecessary death. Why was it that every time they had an operation like this, some bugger had to kick the bucket when it wasn't necessary?

"It's your fault," Tom complained, looking at Alstarice. "You didn't inject it into her fast enough, so she kept struggling."

"Yeah well," Alstarice said sharply, standing up and putting his hands on his slim hips, "Your aide is the crazy one who slit her throat before I could do anything to stop that woman from struggling."

Lucretzia was still staring at Yvette Kanabaria's body, a ghoulish stare on her empty face. The snake eyes of that strange yellow were glimmering softly in the bluish lighting of the greenhouse, and it had happened so quickly that Yvette hadn't even had any time to scream.

In Lucretzia's hand was a wicked-looking three pronged sword. With her elaborately-done black hair and in her yellow dress, Lucretzia looked like one of the female guests. Of course, with that expression of hers, she appeared far more like a soulless doll with the bloodstains on the hem of her dress.

Then she blinked, and she was looking at Tom with pleading eyes, her voice a soft, frightened uttered cry. "Tom- Tom-, I panicked-,"

In a flash, he had stood up, pulling aside the prong, flicking it once to rid it of the blood and it folded up automatically into a small, palm-sized knife. He slipped it into his pocket, hugging Lucretzia, who clung pathetically to him with tears rolling from her eyes. While a head taller than Tom, Lucretzia seemed to be the child here.

Studying them, Alstarice wondered why he had to deal with the looney-bin characters tonight. He would have preferred to deal with the Fifth Eye and his aide, even if Alstarice thought they were irritating shits too. Why did everyone, including the Numbers, think so highly of a single Athrun Zala? In Alstarice's opinion, Athrun Zala was too much of a wuss.

Having thought that, Alstarice did think that Athrun Zala was a far better and far more reliable person than Thomas Equinox, alias Tom Edgeworth. At least Athrun Zala and that aide of his always did the job fast and without any fuss.

But no, Alstarice grumbled quietly to himself. Life was always had to be shitty. The orders from the Numbers had been for him and Tom to handle the rats who had tried contacting people outside the Isle to sell information.

How Alstarice was hating this.

"Hey," He said wryly, glancing out of the greenhouse windows by pulling aside some fronds, "I think transport's here. You want to continue comforting that freak of yours so I can do this by myself?"

Tom gave him a poisonous glare, letting go of Lucretzia for a second. "Shut it, Krieg. You go on ahead to the Cliffside first. Get this idiot out of the way and bury her there. I'll get the blood sorted out and handle the rest."

"I don't need you to tell me what to do," Alstarice said sharply. "I got here before you in more ways than one, remember?"

Alstarice bent down, using his handkerchief to mop up the blood around Yvette Kanbaria's neck and then tossing the handkerchief with some contempt on the earth.

He spread open the sack, rolling the corpse onto it, stripping her off the heavy dress without any delay. He also removed the jewels on her head and chest and then left them on the soil. The whole process took him less than five minutes. And for the final touch, Alstarice stood at the corpse' feet, not hesitating because rigor mortis would set in soon. Without any expression, he broke her legs quickly and folded those onto her body for a more compact fit.

"Damn," Alstarice complained, lifting up one foot and bending it backwards with the rest of the leg. "I'm supposed to be the suave businessman amongst us. I'm not supposed to be doing shit like this that secondary aides are supposed to get themselves busy over-"

There was an awful crunching sound but there was no more blood spilt, and the knees seemed almost grotesque with the shoes pointing towards Yvette's face. Of course, that was quickly solved with Alstarice zipping up the bag, hauling it onto his shoulder, checking the coast, and then hurrying out of the greenhouse where the car would zoom by.

It was easier to do this with the snow going on, Tom reflected, taking Lucretzia's hand in his as she continued to look plaintively at him. No guest would venture out in this weather, and they would certainly not come to the greenhouse. It would be far easier to transport people out from this place.

"Lu," Tom said hastily, beginning to gather the various things that Alstarice had ridded the corpse off, "Don't think too much about it. It's fine- just help me get these things out of here and pass them to his second aide. He'll be waiting outside the main gate. Go quickly. Once you're there, send me the message and I'll join you."

"What about the Fifth Eye?" She asked.

"I'll tell him what's happened later." Tom said hurriedly. "I don't think he should come to the greenhouse again to meet us- it's too risky coming here twice in the same night. He already lured those three here with a business proposal that ended up with us pouncing on them, so I don't think he should come here again. He's currently back in the hall, and I'll send him a message to tell him he can go after he's stayed there for a bit to create the impression that he had always been there with his consort."

She took the sack from him, nodded once, and then disappeared. Tom shook his head after she'd left. Lucretzia had always been a bit emotionally unstable after being sent here to work as an aide by Zaft. She'd suffered from a great deal of trauma, but Tom had insisted that she remain his primary aide. If she didn't, she had nowhere else to go. There was no way she could be sent back to the Plants- not when she had become so removed from the real world.

Sighing, Tom looked around at the plants. Just as he had before they'd come in, he took out some small, handy tools to make a sweep of the area, ensuring no bugs were there at all before he left.

* * *

While things beyond her understanding were going on in the greenhouse, Cagalli sat by Athrun's side as he played round after round of blackjack.

For some reason, people crowded around him to watch him play, as if they expected great entertainment of sorts. There were concurrent games going on, and many were watching other guests play at cards although the dance floor seemed crowded still. As the people swirled around Athrun, she felt herself tense up and wonder if he knew what he was doing here.

He sat there, a stark, quiet figure with her by his side. In their monochromatic appearance, all eyes were drawn to them.

Just as Cagalli's thoughts were focused on him, his were on her too. He knew why people gathered around him usually when he played cards. It wasn't a matter that he won for most of the time. He was noting that his game partners all had their eyes on Cagalli. Of course, Athrun could not blame them.

She did look exquisite in white and the amber that brought out the real colour of her eyes. Ironically, Lady Rochester commented that she'd never even remembered Lyra's eye colour before that.

"That's because you had your eyes on Estragon here," Lord Tessington said pertly.

Lady Rochester looked admiringly at Athrun, who'd produced a yellow rose for her tonight. "With good reason. You know, Estragon is such a good magician-,"

Feeling Cagalli shake with laughter besides him, Athrun forced a smile and bent towards her.

"I usually don't play at this game," He whispered at her as Cagalli leaned closer to catch him mutter. "I'm only doing this because you insisted that I don't play poker tonight."

"Trust me." She said confidently. "Blackjack's something I've always had pretty good luck with. Besides, we've two more hours before Epstein comes to fetch us, and we might as well kill time."

Aloud, Athrun raised his voice and asked confidently, "So who's starting first?"

The game began.

As they drew their cards, Athrun watched the men observe Cagalli. He knew what they were going to ask for if they won. As he drew his card and kept his expression guarded, he said calmly, "I forgot to ask what the stakes were."

Immediately, there was a clamouring at the table and the smoke seemed to disperse with the number of people talking suddenly.

"The usual," Lady Rochester had begun to say, except Lord Tessington was cutting in and saying loudly, if not a bit bashfully, "I'd like a dance with your wife."

And Tessington poured a few more jewels on the table in hopes that Rune Estragon would agree to the particular stakes that Tessington wanted. Rubies, pearls, almost anything of dazzling quality had been laid out there.

Staring at those things of beauty, Cagalli wondered why she wasn't attracted to those at all.

Athrun had explained to her that people on the Isle didn't have to buy anything while here, because it was all rationed by Plant anyway. They didn't have any currency of worth here on the Isle, and whatever money they got could not be spent while they were here, so they gambled with their jewels instead.

That had made her question certain things almost immediately.

As Cagalli gazed at those jewels, she found herself thinking of how Lyra must have once sat by Athrun's side, wearing the things he'd asked her to, being made to go through all this without understanding what Athrun was really doing. Her heart ached for Lyra, who she'd never met, but suddenly knew enough of to understand her. She'd been in Lyra's shoes, and she understood now.

If and when Athrun chose to lose, then all he needed would be to let the winning party dance once with Lyra, who'd take that opportunity to chat the person up and find out the secrets that Rune Estragon wanted. Lyra had never objected to this- she'd gone along with what she had been brought there for.

What had Athrun brought her here for?

She looked at the shining, dazzling things on the table, and they could have been lumps of coal for all she cared. She glanced at Athrun, with his hardened expression, and knew he wanted to win. Had he wanted to win in the past, when he'd known that if he lost, he'd get Lyra to obtain the information he wanted?

And shouldn't Cagalli have felt repulsed by that? Shouldn't she have excused herself and left? But she found no more grudge or disgust that she assumed she would have felt, only empathy and a sadness for what Athrun had gone through with Lyra, and what he'd come to hate himself for.

These jewels were very fine. She could see it almost immediately. Had Athrun collected these during the winning games and set them into the trinkets she'd had a whole box of?

Staring at Athrun, she saw him turn around and shake his head very slightly at her, as if reading her thoughts.

"Is that how you ended up with so many gems?" Cagalli asked very quietly, pointing at the necklace she'd worn at his instructions.

He nodded, looking dryly at her. He whispered his answer to her. "I figured out that I might as well get a kick out of being here at one point or another. But I never gave you anything I won from these tables. It didn't seem right to have you wear the riches that were probably ill-gotten gains anyway."

She'd been glad that he'd understood without her even having to explain.

"So you agree then, Estragon?" The other player was staring at Cagalli as he said this. "That if I or Tessington wins, you have to agree to let Lyra dance?"

There were murmurs all around them and the chatter seemed to engulf them all.

"I saw you dance the tango with her the last time." Tessington said slyly. "Made me want to practise my rusty old steps, but I think I need the right person to dance with."

Athrun heard Cagalli draw in a breath and felt sorry for her. He curled his lip into a sneer without realising it, and decided that he'd never let anyone win this game.

He could sense Cagalli being bewildered and once again, he noted that Cagalli was unaware of the effect she really had on people. He could feel her try to conceal her disgust at the leers the men gave her, but he knew he was doing the same too.

They drew another card, and Athrun brought out another that totalled his as twenty.

"Do you want to show your cards yet?" Another player looked not at Athrun but at Cagalli.

"No." He said mildly. "What about the rest of you?"

Lady Rochester was having bad luck tonight. The host frowned, shaking her head. "Not yet."

"Not yet." Tessington echoed, looking at Athrun first, then at Cagalli.

The last player shrugged and drew another card, as did everyone.

Cagalli held her breath as Athrun took what was possibly his last card. Why hadn't he chosen to show his cards? At least, if the others drew another, the likelihood of them coming as close to the number twenty-one was quite low.

But smilingly back at the other game-players, Athrun drew the card that Cagalli pointed out for him, and keeping his expression mostly neutral, he laid down his cards. Amongst those, he now had the ace of spades.

A perfect twenty-one.

Those who had been betting on him cheered and those who had lost or had lost their bets pounded on the table, looking upset or even amused. Cagalli beamed at Athrun and whispered, "See?"

He stood up, collecting the jewels that had been the stakes. Then smiling at the players who were shaking their heads regretfully, Athrun looked at Cagalli, a small quirk of his lips present for all to see. "I apologise, Tessington. She's my dance partner for the rest of the night."

Cagalli decided to stake her claim over Athrun as well. She looked coolly at those were looking at her and Athrun, knowing that they were being judged but knowing that she couldn't care less. They could think anything of her that they liked, Cagalli decided, but it didn't matter.

And she moved into his arms, catching even Athrun by surprise. And she kissed him; shifting her hips and feeling his hands tighten on her waist, smiling at him and blinding out the rest of the world.

Those at the table sighed in a collective mixture of envy and disappointment.

* * *

Later that night, Cagalli played with the spaniels that Athrun had prevented her from meeting the last time.

In doing so, Cagalli found that the world around her was suddenly more bearable and less obnoxious than she'd supposed it would be. She had steered clear of anything and anyone, but found herself unable to resist going near the spaniels with their pink tongues and soft coats.

It had happened entirely by coincidence, because she'd been unable to convince Athrun to spend some time alone with her at the had refused to let her go to the greenhouse, telling her that it was too cold.

"It's not," She'd argued, leaving her pigeon pie alone as she had the last time. "It's only a little distance for us to run through before we get to the greenhouse. Past that tree we passed by the last time-,"

"Lyra," Lord Nottingherk was asking in his greasy voice, "Don't you like the food? This is pigeon p-"

She ignored him, drowning his voice out and looking pointedly at Athrun, who smirked. He took her cutlery from her ad carefully arranged the pastry for her to make it look like she'd eaten most of it. Then cheekily, he told the concerned guest nearby, "My wife doesn't like the taste of chicken."

"Oh, alright," The concerned woman shrugged. "Veal then?"

A plate of that familiar, bloody-looking meat was passed to her and Cagalli glowered at Athrun once she'd managed a rather forced expression of gratefulness at the other guest.

Turning back to her, Athrun grinned. "It's not a short enough distance before you catch a cold. I'd prefer to have you healthy. Do you regret not having that fox stole now?"

She began her comeback, except that Athrun was suddenly forced to enter a conversation because two guests wanted his opinion on something or the other.

Eventually, Athrun had moved around with other guests, speaking to them because they refused to leave him alone, and Cagalli had wandered off too. The food had not appealed to her, and she had not wanted to stay around to be questioned by other guests too.

She'd made round after round of the hall, feeling a bit lonesome. But then she had spotted some familiar faces, although those were not human, and had promptly paused.

At present, Cagalli had become familiar with the owners of the spaniels, although she was arguably better acquaintances with the canines than the humans. It had happened without her being able to avoid or plan for it, for Cagalli had simply seen the spaniels and went near to those. She hadn't even seen the owners of the two dogs turn around to watch her drop to her knees, and she didn't even notice them staring at her.

"Look at you!" She exclaimed. "You're beautiful, aren't you?"

As she crouched down, rubbing the head of the one nearest to her, it wagged its tail lovingly and gave her face a long lick. Its collar was dripping with pearls, and the chain that led to a gloved hand was made of pure silver. The other other spaniel had similar accessories, although those were rubies instead. Cagalli of course, saw nothing of their leashes or where the leashes led to. Instead, she had become totally enamoured by the dogs.

"Your name is Lyra Delphius, isn't it?" The owner of the spaniel was a young woman with mahogany-coloured hair and pink eyes. "Funny- I never thought you liked dogs much."

"No!" Cagalli spoke with vehemence in her innocent desire to convince the owner that she was fond of dogs. "I do, I really do!"

The owner extended a hand while leaning from her chair, because Cagalli was crouching down, not caring that her knees were getting slightly sore.

"I'm Sundae Guildstern," The lady said tentatively, smiling slightly. "And this is Quentin."

Cagalli took her hand out of politeness even though she hadn't wanted to speak to anyone here, and gazed at Sundae. Sundae's dress was simpler than most of the women's in here, but she was still dripping with glorious aquamarine stones and she looked older than she really was with her painted cheeks and lips.

Before Cagalli had suddenly swooped down and paid attention to the spaniel, Sundae had been drinking and talking to a person next to her at a table lined with food and feasting guests. Both had been holding onto their dogs, who had sat there quietly until Cagalli had paid attention to it.

Studying this person, Cagalli saw that Sundae Guildstern had features that reminded her of a canary, bright and cheerful. It struck Cagalli that there was a young suppleness and queerly enough, honesty in the face that the make-up did not obscure. And while her features were not strikingly intelligent or memorable, Sundae did not seem particularly snobby. Her voice was high-pitched and a bit bashful. "You're Mr. Estragon's wife, aren't you, Lyra?"

Cagalli only smiled ambiguously at Sundae Guildstern. "Thank you for letting me play with Quentin. I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Guildstern."

The large, blood-red spaniel with its silky hair barked once at his name and Cagalli hugged it, quite forgetting that she was to be sophisticated, aloof, and totally uninterested in anything in the hall.

To Cagalli's surprise, Sundae had slid down from her chair and was kneeling, playing with Quentin too. Adoringly, Quentin kissed his mistress' cheek, glad to have open attention from both women. The other dog snuffled at Cagalli, less forthcoming than Quentin but almost identical to it and equally gorgeous.

The two women looked at each other, smiling hesitantly, and Cagalli was struck by how kind Sundae's expression was, and how shy she seemed.

"Do you like dogs, Lady Estragon?" The rather young-looking man next to Sundae enquired. He had been watching Sundae speak to this strange woman who'd suddenly appeared and patted Quentin, and now he squatted down too.

The other guests at the table were not paying the three of them attention, still babbling amongst themselves, lost in their own activities while the smoke around them swirled like the sounds and music and overpowering scents.

There, despite the feast that they could have continued paying attention too, or even the orchestra that was beckoning stridently, the three of them looked at each other, grinning. Then the three of them were playing with the two dogs, the other guests too busy getting drunk or drinking to notice the strange scene unfolding before them.

This person that Sundae had been previously occupied with had a roundish face and brown eyes. He also sported curly orange hair that seemed to have been gelled back at one point or another. "I'm Eshe Jupiter and this is Pomme, by the way."

"Pomme," Cagalli said in delight, recognising it was French for apple. "Pomme!"

The second spaniel looked at her with silent but expressive black eyes and instantly going into spasms of delight, Cagalli stroked it.

She realised she was being rude and looked apologetically at Eshe. Her smile was hesitant, and Cagalli realised there was a slight rush of blood to her cheeks. "Hello, Eshe."

"Lyra Delphius, I know." He nodded naturally and looked at Sundae, who was patting Pomme now. Her own dog, Quentin, was busy showing his affection to Cagalli. "Sundae and I here get along because of our dogs."

She chuckled, and without knowing it, they became the two people she actually spoken properly to for the whole night. They invited her to sit at their table, and she declined, but then Sundae exchanged a glance with Eshe. It was a glance full of interest, meaning and Eshe nodded, and together, they'd hauled her off to dance.

Time passed without her being quite conscious of it, and Cagalli ended up dancing with Sundae and Eshe, joking with them about the various guests who wore headpieces that were probably heavier than their necks could bear. Eshe fetched a chair from a nearby table, plonking it in a corner while the music went on and Cagalli danced with Sundae.

"That's the one I can't stand," Eshe told her, clapping his hands to the beat as Sundae danced the foxtrot with Cagalli. He pointed out a woman swaying with her hips taking more attention than the clothes she wore. "Always talking like she owns the world when she lost it by coming here!"

"Yes," Sundae agreed, tapping her feet to the rhythm. She giggled girlishly, looking at Cagalli with sparkling eyes. "The other one I can't stand is Yvette!"

"Yvette Kanabaria?" Cagalli said, her eyes widening and her feet ceasing for a moment.

Sundae nodded, not seeing the surprise in Cagalli's face at hearing about the woman she'd met the last time she'd been here. She grabbed Cagalli's hands, pulling her into dance again. "Always nosing about and wanting to know about people's pasts. Always asking about my papa, always asking and asking! I tell her I don't know anything, but she won't leave me alone! Always asking meaningless questions, as if she wasn't corrupted and had to come here because of that-," Sundae flopped down, patting Pomme on her head and then starting her dance again. "Thank God I haven't seen her since the start of the night!"

The three of them occupied a corner of the dance floor that seemed to become a space solely for them. While Eshe held the dogs with their leashes, clapping his hands and swaying to the jazzy beats that the orchestra had swung into, the two women continued to dance.

Cagalli didn't know any of the steps, but Sundae taught her the simple ones. For the rest, Cagalli made up her own actions and while she looked comical and knew she was making a fool of herself, she and Sundae were having the time of their lives. They imitated ducks while doing the foxtrot, they broke out into a cha-cha and mixed it with the tango while the orchestra played a swing number, and Cagalli found herself laughing.

"I saw you dance the tango the other time," Eshe called out, watching his friend and Cagalli dance. "Super- really! You're very good at the tango!"

"I'm rubbish at everything else," She giggled, a bit heady with the drinks Eshe was supplying her and Sundae when they were out of breath. "And it's he who taught me those steps-,"

She was swirled off by Sundae, who had come alive with the music and had tossed her shoes into the air, a bit drunk with the wine but long wasted with her merriment.

Both women ignored the strange stares that the absolutely sober guests gave them, ignoring the appreciative stares that the drunk ones threw over, and ignored the world in general. As Cagalli twirled Sundae around, Quentin and Pomme wagging their tails like windmills, she wished Athrun could see her or even join them.

He'd like this, Cagalli thought in a daze. Why hadn't he told her there were people she could have fun with here? Why hadn't he told her that there were people she could actually like in this place? Why hadn't-

Her thoughts were interrupted. Sundae spun, doing some fancy steps that put a vigour and pinkness into her face. Staring at her improvisation and at Sundae, Cagalli grinned, seeing the prettiness that hadn't existed in her before. "Sundae, you're terrific!"

The young woman blushed. "I've been doing this since I was a child."

"How old are you, Sundae?" Cagalli inquired, twirling too in a far more haphazard manner and looking over at Eshe. He looked back at her, grinning. "And you, Eshe?"

"He's twenty," Sundae chirped merrily. "I'm twenty-one."

Immediately, Cagalli knew that they must have been brought here when they were children, or given birth to when their parents had fled here. That explained their youth, and that explained the exuberance that seemed quite naïve and yet, likeable at the same time.

"I used to dance these steps with Eshe when we were kids, but no time's a better time when we've found a new friend!" Sundae fluttered over to her friend and took the leashes from him, "Eshe, do it! Do it!"

"What?" He enquired, Quentin barking in a joyous, slightly mad manner while Pomme looked ready to jump forward. "Do what, Sundae?"

"The Charleston, Eshe! The Charleston!"

Laughing, he obliged, throwing the leashes to Cagalli who grabbed those and sat breathlessly in the chair that Eshe had previously occupied. Together, both began to sing the tunes the orchestra was playing, both snapping and shaking to the beat, and Eshe shouted, "Join us, Lyra! Join us!"

Obligingly quite gladly, Cagalli held the dogs with one hand and waved with her other. She blared along with the music from the orchestra, the tunes suddenly pleasing to her ears because she was with people who were enjoying them in pure, unadulterated ways.

The dogs were straining at their leashes, excited by the wild movements Eshe displayed with Sundae and the music. The trumpet was loud and cheeky in the air, the drums tattooing furiously, and Cagalli felt her spirits lift inexplicably, despite having heard the same music before.

Eshe was still clicking his heels and doing the dance with such panache that Cagalli had to cheer for him. Sundae joined him, and both merged the Charleston into something that resembled the Lindy Hopp, only that it was even wilder, with Eshe grabbing a hat from a guest. The guest who didn't even notice continued dancing with his partner, unaware that he was missing his hat.

Meanwhile, Eshe quaked with humour and began using it as a prop. Not to be outdone at any point, Sundae threw hers into the air, Eshe grabbing and lifting her into it so she could catch the hat with a precise timing Cagalli did not expect, and both resumed their complicated steps. The three of them were both laughing so loudly that even some of the more woozy guests looked over in surprise. The music was deafening, but their joy was heard even over it.

He ended it with a pose that Cagalli whooped at, clapping loudly. And then Eshe grabbed Sundae, his dance partner and swung her around, kissing her on the cheek with a loud, smacking sound.

Happily, he bopped back to her, saying quirkily with a thick accent she could not place, "D'y'know the Beboooop, gerr-hurrl, d'y'know the Bebop?"

"No, Eshe! No!"

She shook her head innocently, shaking and trying to remain seated as he grabbed the leashes, tying them around the leg of a chair then pulling her out of her seat. Cagalli giggled helplessly, smiling at the young Eshe. His own face broke into a manic smile and he shouted, "You don't know the Bebop? Perfect! Neither do we!"

Excited, the dogs began to run circles around that lone chair and the three of them linked hands around their shoulders and began to dance furiously and randomly, kicking furiously. Giggling, Cagalli tried picking up what she could from the hyperactive Eshe and the three of them ended up laughing as if they had been best friends for the longest time.

Eventually, when Athrun found an opportunity to get away from the group he'd been forced to talk to, he realised that Cagalli had disappeared. He clucked his tongue in a bit of annoyance, trying to peer over the heads of people to spot her. It was like one of those books he'd seen Kira read as a child- "Where's Wally?"

Grinning to himself at the thought, he began to jog around a little, trying to locate her. Another guest pulled him into their circle, and despite his best excuses, he was unable to get away. But as he shifted, pretending to transfer his weight to one foot, he saw from afar that Cagalli was talking happily to two guests amidst the entire sea of people. They were sitting at a table liked they'd collapsed into their chairs, Cagalli's expression animated and that of genuine interest and liking for who she was with.

That was surprising, Athrun thought with a little smile.

As he drew nearer, excusing himself as he pushed past the countless couples who were dancing frantically, he thought for a second that he'd lost sight of her again. But there she was, playing a drinking game with her newfound friends, and a dog resting its head on her lap.

The stir of activity around them had become even more frantic, but the three seemed to be removed from it. They'd formed a club, Athrun realised, with the two dogs included as well. He wondered how that had happened, since Cagalli had been so unwilling to let herself be immersed in this place the last time he'd seen her.

Hurriedly, Athrun excused himself from the men and women who were still asking him to decide what was better between running a mega-enterprise or being an entrepreneur, for the conversation had been duller than what he could describe.

As he waded through the crowds, trying to get to that little space they were using, he saw the faces of the guests Cagalli had somehow befriended and recognised them instantly.

The hundreds of people in that hall were swarming everywhere, and Athrun muttered a curse silently as he stepped over a few people who'd linked arms and tripped, all of them too drunk to get up again.

"Excuse me- excuse me-,"

A few waiters swept past him, holding various kinds of desserts that were exquisitely made. Athrun grabbed a quince tart, biting into it, a little hungry because he hadn't eaten much, then still chewing, tried to fight his way over to Cagalli.

"Estragon, commereand-," One man he recognised vaguely was swooning towards him, "-getsumoddatdrinkwitus-,'

By the time he got a little closer to Cagalli, he'd finished the tart and could hear flashes of the conversation.

"So I was telling that old hag," Athrun heard Sundae Guildstern saying sarcastically, "To go away and leave me to my own devices. I told her to her face that she was as ugly as a pug, and that she was an insults to most pugs too. After that, she never bothered asking me whether papa still kept in contact with people outside the Isle and whether-,"

Cagalli, Athrun could see, was listening intently. The three of them seemed to be playing scissor-papers-stone at the same time, trading stories, and he could only hope that Cagalli's blackjack luck extended to this game too. He could only hope that Cagalli had been sober enough not to reveal anything.

When he got to Cagalli's side, she did not notice him because she was laughing so hard at an imitation of Yvette Kanabaria that Sundae Guildstern was doing. It was one that Eshe Jupiter outdid only by imitating Yvette's husband.

"So, daaaahling," Eshe Jupiter was flicking his hair and twitching his eyebrow like he was some kind of stud, "You want to look rich? I say we should get ourselves some nice furniture so we can rest our tushes and-,"

Cagalli was sputtering with laughter, the drink in her hand shaking and spilling slightly.

"Oh, daaaaaaaaaaaaahling," Sundae interrupted, still in the mood as Yvette. "I say we just blow our money into the air, it's the same, really-,"

Noting the irony in the fact that they were laughing about a person who had just died, Athrun approached, panting slightly form the exertion of crossing the hall. And then he smiled weakly at the two. "Sorry, we're a little busy here-," and promptly grabbed Cagalli by her hand. He watched the surprise on all their faces, but hauled her off before she could protest.

"Sundae! Eshe! Pomme! Quentin!" All four were distant spots that the crowds covered before she could move back to them.

She looked at Athrun, who was holding her hand tightly and pulling forward. "What are you doing? We were having fun! Oh, you haven't met Sundae and Eshe-,"

He shook with silent laughter, ignoring the group he had been forced to stick around with before that as they called out to him again. "I know. But we've got to go- Epstein's here!"

"No way," Cagalli said in disbelief. "This soon?"

"I'll make it up to you," Athrun promised, "Seeing as you were enjoying yourself so much."

A soft smile touched his lips, and feeling almost as delirious as her, he tickled her, ignoring how people were looking at him. Surely, Athrun realised, they were wondering how Rune Estragon and Lyra Delphius were suddenly being so merry today.

Still giggling to herself, Cagalli waved to nobody in particular, then felt herself being pulled away and Athrun chuckling too as he guided her out of the hall. He was holding her by her shoulders now, and she tried to shake him off to turn and look at him.

As they stepped out of the massive doors, servants bowing everywhere, Athrun sighed once. He began pulling off his jacket and wrapping her up in it despite her protests. It was cold though, and Cagalli felt his warmth on the jacket and on the dark coat he flung over her shoulders too.

His voice was warm, and his eyes twinkled. "I can't believe you got drunk again-."

She widened her eyes, shaking her head, her speech not really slurred but her cheeks suspiciously pink. "No! I didn't- I only drank-," She held up seven fingers, chuckling to herself beneath her breath. "Okay- maybe a little- drunk-,"

"I'll say." Athrun wondered how Cagalli could put him in a good mood even by being a little tipsy. He had been troubled for most of the evening, a bit reluctant at first to have brought Cagalli even though he knew that had been explicit orders. For the later half of the evening, when Tom had informed him that Yvette had been killed because she'd struggled too much, Athrun had been upset.

That had not been supposed to happen.

Cagalli looked carefully at him. Suddenly she realised that he was looking very tired and that Athrun looked very worn down. Grabbing him by his tie, she looked into his eyes and saw him flinch.

"What happened?" She demanded. "Are you alright?"

She did not know.

He'd lured the three people to the greenhouse, the same three that the Numbers had given him information about, telling them that he wanted to discuss a business venture in secret.

Athrun took her hands with his, kissing her fingers gently. "Nothing. I'm fine. I'm just a little wasted." He barked his laughter. "But nothing's unusual about that in this place."

Greedy for more wealth, they'd followed him, and they'd been tranquilised and bound. Athrun had left quickly to return to Cagalli, although a mishap must have happened during that time. Cagalli had been fine by herself though, and even when Athrun had been forced to speak to other guests, she'd found people she could actually get along with.

He marvelled at that ability of hers, and as he guided her towards the area where Epstein would drive to, Athrun felt himself feel a little less anxious. There was something heady about the atmosphere even with the falling snow and the chill making him shiver a little. "You really surprise me, Cagalli."

"How?" She said in surprise.

He did not seem to have heard her. She felt Athrun draw her nearer and his lips move slightly near her ear. "But that's what I like about you."

Cagalli felt him stroking her cheek briefly. He was trailing his lips over hers, and she blinked, wondering what he was up to. While they stood under the once lush branches, the fairy lights winking secretively, she misunderstood him.

Then the car was coming towards them and she felt Athrun pull away, although he still held her hand. As the car paused, he opened the door and said with a sudden intensity, "Get in, Cagalli. Careful, now."

She laughed once. "Athrun- I'm not drunk, I'm just-,"

"I know." He whispered.

"Alright," Cagalli said, a bit puzzled, taking a step forward. Athrun did not let go of her hand still, and she wondered if he thought she was drunk. As he shut the door, the car roared off, and Cagalli confirmed that there really was a curtain to obscure the backseat from the front.

Vaguely, she wondered if that was dangerous, whether Epstein could see the rear view when he was driving. But her thoughts were disrupted again as Athrun produced the black scarf and began tying it around her eyes.

In the car, she was the one who became bold with him. She located him by pressing her palms in the air until those came into contact with his flesh. Cagalli found him melting into her arms, letting her stroke at his face, familiarising herself with his features even in the darkness of the blindfold.

She could feel the wine in her burning, her desire for him fuelling her to spend her heat outwardly. She kissed him, aware that his fingers were wandering on her flesh too, undoing the necklace that hung heavy over her collarbone and chest. His skin met hers, and she muffled her moans with his lips, panting a little, the roar of the engine strangely far away and outside the thick windows.

Moving quickly because she was afraid the car would suddenly halt, Cagalli shifted against him. Before she knew it, she was biting back her pleasure now because she was afraid for Epstein to hear them.

But as he sank his teeth into her neck, his hands touching her and her legs rubbing against the knees she was balancing herself onto his lap with, Athrun whispered her name and it was enough for her. He gave her no time to recollect her sense, for he was pushing her off, putting the necklace on her again and vaguely, she realised she was straightening their appearances. Clearly, they were about to reach.

When he led her out, she was still blindfolded, and Cagalli did not know anything more for the next few hours except that she could sense every action he made, everything he did while holding her, everything he did for her.

That night, Cagalli understood why she had been able to find people to smile and laugh with. In a world she had a single person to trust in, she had been aware that not everything could be divided so cleanly into the black and the white. In that moment, she'd forgotten to be afraid of trusting, and she'd taken that leap forward.

Even now, as Athrun moved against her, their pants soft and intense in the room, her breath laborious with their activity, Cagalli knew she'd taken that quantum jump by going with him to Rochester's place willingly.

His voice was quiet but filled with the affection she craved, and Cagalli moved against him, wanting to feel him and wanting him to feel her in return. When he finally removed her blindfold, she sprang into his arms, tight in his embrace, wanting nothing more than to be received by him.

That night, they lay together, huddled beneath the sheets, exhausted but unwilling to fall asleep so easily even though their bodies needed rest. They talked in hush whispers, muttering of things they'd forgotten over time but were beginning to remember more and more.

"Why did you wait so long?" Cagalli asked him softly, tracing his lips. "Why didn't you tell me everything that night when we came back from Rochester's party?"

"I wanted to take you so much on the night at Rochester's," He said softly, "But I couldn't. Partially because I wanted to learn who you were again, because I wanted you to stay. I didn't have a right to love you in the past- I understood so little of you and myself. And also because-,"

"Because?" Cagalli prompted.

"I felt guilty for using you as a distraction while I carried out my duties." Athrun admitted. "While you were with me that night, you were creating an alias for me and at the same time, Epstein was dealing with some Isle-dwellers who were trying to sell drugs to the terrorists. "

She gasped. "How-,"

"I've told you already," Athrun told her grimly. "Lots have connections you can only dream off, and a few of them keep connections with the outside world. So long as they don't do anything like sell information of their fellow asylum-seekers, I can close my eyes to the profits they continue to make. But not when Mullin tried to sell those drugs to the terrorists, that's for sure."

"What happened that night?" Cagalli asked.

"While we were in the greenhouse, a man named Mullin had a suitcase filled with a kind of powder that could be used as a biochemical weapon, and I'd ordered Epstein to get hold of him and the suitcase. There was a scuffle and Mullin died, and while we were in the car, on the way back home, you didn't even know that his body was in the boot, along with the suitcase."

Cagalli looked at him, becoming still. But then, she put her arms around him and whispered, "It doesn't matter. You have to do what you can at every point, and I would never look at you and despise you for that."

Athrun was moved by her sincerity, and he took her hand, feeling how small it was, but how steady and warm it felt when she held his hand in return.

"You're still coming back to Orb with me." Cagalli said firmly.

His gaze became a queer, slightly tense one, and she wondered why there was fear and sorrow in his eyes. She shifted slightly as well. "What is it?"

"No," He told her quietly. "That's impossible."

"What about the Orb citizenship you got by trading information with me?" Cagalli said, gaping at him. "Don't you have a personally authorised set of documents from me now?"

"No," He interrupted firmly. He looked at her "That citizenship was meant for Ko."

"Ko?" She was puzzled. She'd always thought he wanted the citizenship rights for himself- even if not for business, then for his personal vendetta in the past. But for Ko?

"I decided as soon as Ko got to the Isle that he needed somewhere safe." He told her. "Harumi is wrong about the Isle being the only place that will give Ko a chance. The place that really will though, is Orb."

Cagalli understood what Athrun meant. Orb welcomed both Coordinators and Naturals and Ko's background and his parentage would mean little there.

Besides, Cagalli recalled, plenty of Naturals and Coordinators started families in Orb, which had never bothered with the division between those who'd altered their genes and those who hadn't as long as they abided with Orb's laws.

"Harumi works for me only because I promised to send her son away to a place where he will be truly accepted. Here on The Isle, he has a false kind of acceptance." Athrun explained. "Her wealth and connections make it possible for him to live another life away from the underworld. But it doesn't negate the fact that his father is a Coordinator. But in Orb, he will be accepted."

"But you can come back to Orb as well! I'll explain it to the legislation council, and the record will be absolved once and for all." She said in a rush.

"Unfortunately not," Athrun said wryly, smiling regretfully at her. "I gave up any chance of returning to Orb the day I took you here to The Isle. It may not have occurred to you. But despite my intentions, the act of bringing you here to the Isle warrants death."

"Why, I could always say in the Galactic courts that I had agreed to come here myself!" She began to argue with him, but Athrun shook his head.

"Imagine what the world would think of you."

She fell silent.

"That night, I was supposed to convince you to sign an affidavit that stated that Cagalli Yula Atha, under no forced circumstances, had voluntarily left with an international security council." Athrun revealed. "But you ended up being injured, and I chose to bring you to the Isle anyway, while you were unconscious. I was not supposed to do that."

"What?" She said, pale-faced.

"The orders were that I should leave you there because your bodyguards would soon find and attend to you. But I made the decision that you had to be brought to the Isle, because I didn't want to leave it to chance and risk you bleeding to death."

Cagalli couldn't believe her ears. "Did you consider that by bringing me to the Isle when I was unconscious would make it difficult for you to come back to Orb? If I had gone consciously, it would be easier to convince the court that I agreed to go and consented in the first place. But if I was unconscious and you didn't bother getting consent but went ahead-,"

"Not really." He said, pausing. "I was more intent on stopping the bleeding."

"The first thing I'll do when I return," Cagalli said fiercely, "Is to clarify that you aren't a kidnapper. If anything, you're a benefactor. And I want to make sure that the record of the past is righted."

He hugged her to him, kissing her forehead. "No. You'd be sacrificing your political reputation. Imagine the Orb Princess trying to defend a kidnapper."

"You're not a kidnapper!" Cagalli said hastily, looking at him, clinging to him as if he were going to vanish suddenly. She blushed slightly and buried her face in his chest, embarrassed. "You're Athrun and-,"

He smiled gently, not saying anything.

"I want you to come back to Orb." Cagalli said in a muffled voice. "You belong there, don't you? You don't belong here, it doesn't make sense. Once it's safe and I'm back in Orb, there's nothing to keep you from going there to where I am."

Then she paused. "I'm being selfish again, aren't I? I assumed that you wanted to come back to Orb, and that you wanted to be with me-,"

"I do," He cut in firmly, "But until I sort out some things with the Isle and Plant, I can't return to Orb."

"So you can, once you finish?" She said hopefully, raising her head towards him.

He wondered if he was giving her false hope and fooling himself for that matter.

"I can try." He said smiling.

"That's better than nothing." She said happily. "I'll wait then."

"And the queue of suitors?" Athrun said in amusement, "Your birthday-,"

"Forget about that." Cagalli said bluntly. "There's no way in hell. Over my dead body."

"James Marlin will be upset." Athrun said wryly. "I should know."

She bit her lips, wondering if she ought to tell him that they were the best of friends and nothing more than that. But it didn't matter, she thought blissfully. It didn't matter when he was coming back to her.

"Let him be," Cagalli said rashly, kissing Athrun. "When you come back to me, I'll find a way to override the Elders' decisions. There's no reason why I can't be with you if I want to be."

"I can think of at least five solid reasons why the Elders would object," He said mildly. She knew it was the truth, no matter how tiresome it got or how they tried to argue that his life could be separate from his father's doings.

Even if both of them agreed on that, Cagalli knew it would be difficult convincing others of it, particularly the people who worked under them or the people they worked for.

Athrun frowned a little. "And I suspect that Orb and Plant won't be happy if a despot's defector son gets together with the Orb Princess. Imagine all the things that could go wrong."

She frowned, acknowledging the relevance of all these issues.

"Whatever it is," Athrun told her finally, "I'll come back to you as soon as I can." That is if you want me to in the future.

"I'll hold you to that. I won't ever forget about you even if you take forever to come back to me." Cagalli told him fiercely.

Athrun shook his head, his chest heavy with pain and regret but that strange joy that she had given him. "You don't really understand, do you? When you return to Orb-,"

"I'll find a way." Cagalli promised, "I can."

How could he tell her that all she had done for him was already more than what he could ask for? Lyra had never captured his heart because he had none while being with her- it was with another woman who hadn't even been aware of it until now.

And really, Athrun realised, he could not ask for more than that. There had to be a way of drawing the line. There had to be a way of preventing them from loving each other and destroying each other this way, the way she'd always feared in the past.

He took Cagalli's face in his hands. "No, you need to live for yourself."

"I'm doing that." She kissed him deeply, looking directly at him. "I'm doing that now."

* * *

Sheba Velasco was reading the news reports her aides had collected for her. Opposite her in the other armchair, Lent was equally worried.

"You know," She remarked eventually, putting down the papers. "I'll be you a dollar that Orb's going to storm Scandinavia whether or not she returns on time. There's no way Kira Yamato can stop it, even when he did the clever thing and settle for a compromise with the Earth Alliance and try to clamp down on the media since then."

"You're really sure, eh?"

She gave him one of her rare smiles. "How did you know?"

"You usually bet a million dollars, which you don't have." Lent reminded her. "So if you bet a dollar, you're probably being serious."

"I am."

"Well," Lent told her, "It all depends on the Orb Princess and what she decides on. If she gets back to Orb and stamps her foot and tells the warmongers to stuff it, there's no way Orb will have a war or turn Scandinavia upside down for revenge. Of course, if she wants an explanation, which she probably does-," He shrugged. "Anyway, I don't think a war is likely."

Tom bounced in, shutting the door before Boarbaki could scramble in. They heard whining noises from outside the door and Boarbaki scratching until he finally gave up.

Tom leaned into a third armchair, grinning at both of them, who looked a little nonplussed at his entrance. "Hey, no need to look so confused. I finished my job early and thought I'd pay Sheba a visit."

"Yes, well," Sheba said icily, "I thought I told you to keep yourself to the kitchen?"

"I made you both tea," Tom pouted, pointing at the tray he'd brought in and laid on the table, "Don't you want to thank me?"

"Thanks, Tom." Lent said kindly, and Tom beamed at him.

"Tom," Sheba said tensely, ignoring the tea, "Did you find anything out about what Kira Yamato is planning next?"

"No." Tom shook his head. "Too secretive. It's like he suspects he's being watched. Besides, I didn't have much time to hang around in Orb. I had to come back to carry out that arrest we made yesterday, right?"

"I heard from Alstarice that one died while you were trying to transport her to your Isle." Lent recalled. "Your primary aide panicked and slit her throat, right?"

Tom looked at them defensively. "It couldn't be helped. Lu tends to be a bit-,"

Lent shook his head, holding up his hand to stop the excuses. "Save that for the Numbers. I believe you Tom, I only hope they will."

Sheba made a sound of great anxiousness and looked at Lent. "What do we report to the Numbers where Kira Yamato is concerned? And did you hear? His wife is returning to work! "

"I'll handle it." Lent told her. He looked at Tom. "You just sit tight and wait. I'm sure something will present itself to us soon. Something that we can use to get into the Scandinavian palace."

* * *

They left the manor for the next few days.

Athrun had raised the idea of taking a little short trip out to sea for a few days while she'd had her lessons on using the yacht. The lessons, as had the close-range firing lessons, had come as a bit of a surprise to Cagalli. After all, Athrun had offered to teach her how to use the yacht without her even asking.

The only head or tail she could make of it when he'd informed her that he would teach her how to control the yacht from the bridge room, was that he wanted to show how much he trusted her. To her, Athrun was expecting her to learn this and not use it to leave for Orb.

He had been a good teacher, patient and very clear in his instructions. Just as he had taught her in their sparring lessons, Athrun never had to explain things more than once for her to understand.

So Cagalli learnt, and she learnt well.

In fact, Athrun also showed her how to control the yacht in ways that she'd never been able to. In the past, the bridge had been locked, but now he unlocked it, teaching her how to use the controls and how to manipulate the path of the yacht.

She'd taken to it quite easily, familiar with these things but learning how to do more. Her curiosity at why he'd offered to teach her had overwhelmed her at one point, and Cagalli had eventually come up with a few reasons that had not made sense.

But it should have been obvious.

When Cagalli had asked Athrun why he was teaching her this, he had answered, "I figured it would be nice to have someone piloting instead of me."

"Piloting?" She'd questioned eagerly. "As in, out to sea? Are we going to stay out here and not head back to the Isle today?"

Athrun had circled his arms around her then, and she'd known the answer.

The idea of being alone with him out at open sea had admittedly excited Cagalli. In the past, she'd had an opportunity to be here too, in the midst of a glorious, wide ocean. But she'd been mistrustful of Athrun, resistant even, to the idea of being near and alone to him. Now though, she'd been given the chance to make amends to that lost opportunity to be honest with him.

When he had told Epstein that he and Cagalli were going to be away for a few days, Epstein had blanched first and protested, since Athrun did have some work to cover. However, Athrun had insisted and Epstein had eventually laughed and had informed the twins of the same thing.

While Cagalli had not wanted to leave Ko or the aides behind, Athrun had convinced her that she wanted to be with him more.

"Why can't we head back and get them to come too?" Cagalli had begged.

Athrun had grinned. "Same old reasons. Epstein's got work, the twins and Ko have training, and I'd rather be alone with you."

For the past two days, Cagalli had continued to learn how to use the yacht, how to control its speed and to alter its destination or even channel it out of rocky waters. This morning, she got up early, leaving Athrun to sleep for a while more.

Eventually, he'd found her.

"How's the piloting coming up?" He asked her, standing in the doorway of the bridge and smiling at her.

Athrun had woken and found himself alone in their cabin, and he'd found her practising her piloting in the bridge room. She had been familiarising herself with another set of controls and at his entrance, Cagalli looked up and smiled at him.

"Good," Cagalli had answered, putting it into autopilot mode and making it stay in its current position in the sea.

She'd got up, taking Athrun in her arms, whispering that she'd made breakfast for them. "Flapjacks, actually."

"Well now," Athrun had remarked in amusement. "Did I do anything that made you very happy?"

She did not say anything, only grinned at him. But in fact, it was the understanding that he trusted her. He trusted that she would not take advantage of the berth he'd given her to try and leave him.

And nothing, Cagalli had decided, would make her betray that trust ever again.

In the afternoon, they took turns cooking and she burnt herself slightly by accident. In his anxiousness to see to it despite her reassurances, Athrun forgot he was cooking the meat and they ended up eating their steak as a very, very well-done one. Just like the day before when they'd had their fill, they ended up lying in bed and resting.

She read aloud to him in different accents she could imitate from her memories of meeting different foreign delegates, and she succeeded in making him laugh harder than she'd ever heard.

For the rest of the time, they spent it talking and laughing and spending time with each other for the rest of the day.

The chilly winter air made it impossible for them to take a smaller boat out and to fish as they had before. Nor could they swim for too long in the deck-pool in the later hours of each day, since the water could be quite cold in the night. In the day time, they did make good use of it for a few hours at one go.

They'd swim, splashing about and joshing and playing like children, until one of them teased a little too much and the other took up the challenge. In the water, they would become complete once more, her hands against him, her mouth close to his, their faces close together for warmth, and their bodies a tangle of limbs beneath the water. It could have lasted for a second or forever at any one point, for it felt like they were constantly living as if they were five minutes late for a train they had to catch.

Either way, it had always ended with them getting out of the pool only some time later, each daring the other to run out of the water. Both would eventually agree to indulge in the dare, and they had found themselves giggling and trying to run below the deck, their swimming suits crumpled balls of cloth in their hands and the winds blowing cold on their bare skins.

When they made it to their cabin and shut the door, shivering madly, they would fall on their sheets again, laughing with their teeth chattering, their hands searching each other and finding each other once more.

In the night however, the pool would be far to cold, and they would not be able to swim, let alone dare each other to run from the pool butt-naked. But there was an alternative, as Athrun had shown her. The bathtub sufficed quite nicely, even if it wasn't swimming they engaged in per se.

The hours flashed by quickly as it had for these few weeks, and they soaked in there for ages, not caring that their hands and feet got wrinkly, caring only that they kept warm together.

At this point, Cagalli leaned back onto Athrun's chest, sighing contentedly. The bathtub was much smaller than the one back in their bedroom on the Isle, and it was frankly, a matter of being cramped in there with him.

But she enjoyed this cramped space still, Cagalli realised, and she tilted her head slightly to gaze at Athrun, who had his eyes closed. The water around them was fragrant with the soaps and foamy with bubbles everywhere, and the warmth and steam made her feel distinctively relaxed.

"Athrun," Cagalli said tentatively, "On the night when you followed me up to the deck, you didn't use this yacht, right?'

"No." He said softly, opening his eyes. "It was another that could double up as a submarine. Not this one though."

"What were you doing that night?" Cagalli asked.

He explained briefly. "Most of the Danish terrorists infiltrated by entering from the base of the yacht and passing off as guests. I was one of them. You were followed for most part of the night- you even danced with someone who had infiltrated."

"You were amongst the guests, right?"

He nodded. "I watched you dismiss your guards and sneak up to the deck." He smiled ruefully, taking her hands away and stroking them gently. "Maybe it was a fortunate thing anything."

"What do you mean?" Cagalli said warily, thinking of all she had met the night on the SS Rafael. She could recall no clear face except the Swedish Crown Prince, Pietre Harraldsson- and he certainly wasn't an infiltrator.

"By going up to the deck, where nobody else would have gone," Athrun said simply, "It was easy to track and isolate you. It decreased the probability of you getting mixed up in that scuffle. I was following orders to protect you and bring you to the Isle, remember? I was wearing bulletproof clothes that night."

An ironic smile touched Athrun's lips. "You should have been too, but I guess the best-laid plans always fail. All the guests, their personal bodyguards and the Swedish royal guards, were all occupied with the assailants below the deck. During that time, the original plan was for me to isolate you and convince you to follow me. You'd actually done the isolating for me, so all I had to do was to convince you to follow me."

"That never happened," Cagalli laughed a little, thinking of all that had gone wrong and how everything had turned out right again. She felt his arms circle her and hug her to him, and she smiled contentedly, closing her eyes.

"The problem with the plan was that you were more stubborn than I'd expected." Athrun acknowledged with a wry smile. "Far from rushing to embrace me or anything similar to that, you were such an obstinate mule. It was quite hopeless."

"Yeah well," Cagalli remarked, "I did feel a bit shocked at seeing you again."

Athrun laughed, then shook his head. "I watched you load a gun on the way up to the deck, and I knew you'd done it wrongly. I never expected you to fire since I warned you that it was poorly loaded." He shrugged. "I suppose in those circumstances, I should have."

She coloured, feeling incredibly foolish. "Try seeing someone you've presumed dead for seven years who's telling you to go somewhere with him without any explanation!"

"I thought you'd come with me, seeing that I'd disappeared for seven years without contacting you." Athrun said quietly. "Another silly thing to presume, I suppose."

Cagalli shook her head. "But it doesn't matter." She turned around in the bathtub, pressing closer to him. "We're here now."

* * *

The first time Kira had met Cagalli, he had known quite instantaneously that she was someone who'd left that indelible impact of him.

Only much later had Kira understood why. Even now, he knew it could be a matter of them being twins and somehow recognising each other in themselves, or the fact that Cagalli was a very memorable person anyway.

She did look rather like a boy with her hair all hidden with that cap, her clothes boyish and her mannerisms nothing short of a boy's.

In other words, she had not been a girl to Kira in his mind, not when he identified femininity with Fllay Alster. That girl had been the school beauty, parading around with her endless arrays of pink dresses, hairbrushes and different classes of perfumes and lotions.

Nor did the visitor to the professor's office resemble Mirallia, who chattered endlessly in that chirpy voice of hers and had the habit of widening her eyes when she looked at anyone closely. The visitor in the office had a husky voice that made him think some flu bug had been going around, and the visitor had narrowed 'his' eyes when Kira had looked over.

All the same, Cagalli Yula Atha was fierce, a bit foolish, and very brave. If she had been a boy, Kira would have found himself wanting to be friends with the person who'd been waiting in the professor's office.

But when he'd found out that she was a girl, Kira had been unable to think of her as anything after that. He'd grown closer to her on the Archangel, touched at her sometimes quirky ways, moved by her rashness and how warm she had been towards every one she met. Cagalli had only been sixteen, but that confidence and inner strength she'd displayed had made Kira think of someone who would have easily been a warrior at one point or another.

He'd wondered why he had become attracted to another girl while having Fllay Alster to talk to and confide in. With Fllay, who else did he need? Why had he found himself thinking of Cagalli when he was with Fllay, or getting distracted by Cagalli when she spoke to his friends when Kira had Fllay to hang out with?

Much later of course, he'd understood that his twin did have that effect on most people, not to mention someone who was related to her by blood.

Kira sipped a little of his drink, feeling tired and worn down, but knowing that he was very familiar with that feeling by now. Cagalli's office was spacious enough, but Kira still felt somewhat claustrophobic in here. He could still recall how she'd looked as Aisha had led her out. His jaw could certainly remember the feeling of being detached.

For that matter, he could summon the memory of Mana leading her down the passageway of the Archangel in her regalia without any effort at all. But the most vivid memory he had was when she'd fallen into his arms like some kind of white seraphim, her veil already pulled back and her face obviously showing horror at how he'd disrupted her wedding. He could remember how lovely Cagalli had looked in her wedding dress and how tormented she'd been at his actions until she'd understood that Kira, like her, had found no other option.

Back then, Kira had commented, "This is some dress." She'd responded with a splutter of baffled outrage and had insisted that he turn back. He'd only grinned and headed off towards the sunset with her in his lap. Kira had cherished the belief that wherever that they were going to would be better than wherever Cagalli had been about to never return from.

Even if Cagalli had fought him to return to Orb, he would have put his foot down and insisted that she wake up from her foolish beliefs. He hadn't wanted to give up on her. In fact, his memories of that incident were still strong enough to make Kira believe that nobody sane would have easily given up on someone like her.

And for that precise reason, Kira could tolerate what Marlin was saying. The office was filled with memories of her, but it was also filled with the conflicts and tensions of those who sat in it right now.

The Second war had ended since then, but perhaps, it was too late even now. Their time was fading past all of them, disappearing into the months they'd passed together, like a butterfly doomed to leave its chrysalis with that awful, tearing sensation as it took flight.

"That's why," Marlin said firmly, "I want your blessing. If Aaron Biliensky doesn't want to give it, that's fine. But she loves you, and that's why I want you to accept me the way she will when she returns."

Kira studied the man who'd marched into the office this morning, locking Aaron Biliensky out and demanding that Kira listen to him. When Marlin had stormed in, Kira had looked up in surprise, interrupted from whatever he had been reading.

Aaron had been pounding on the door for quite some time, asking to be let in, but Kira had ignored Aaron. This was something between Marlin and him.

In fact, Kira had never seen Marlin look so agitated, but Kira supposed anyone who was acting because of Cagalli tended to be. He knew Athrun Zala had experienced that, and Kira knew that he'd certainly experienced the same himself.

"I'm not sure I can give you my blessings." Kira said carefully, "Because I've never been able to tell her what to do in life. It would be wrong for me to."

"You've stepped into her life at this point," Marlin said firmly. "I think you do have the authority to decide as well. If I pursue her after she returns, I'd like your blessing."

"But what do you want me to do until then?" Kira said quietly. "Agree to this union that has really never existed between both of you? What do you want me to do other than tell her that she has the right to do whatever she decides is correct in life? The blessing you want makes no impact on what I have already decided to tell her."

Marlin faltered, but then regained the firmness in his voice. "I came here because I wanted you to know that I'm doing this for a reason. I wanted you to approve of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it."

"Why did Aaron disagree with what you are planning to do?" Kira asked.

Marlin's expression darkened then he shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's protective of her and he doesn't trust me or believe that I have never cared about my career ever since the minute he called and told me what had happened to Cagalli."

"I don't think it's that." Kira told him. "I think you're misunderstanding Aaron, James."

"Yeah?" Marlin challenged, shooting up from his chair. "And what about him misunderstanding me, Kira?"

"Look, I can't say I don't approve of why you're here and why you're risking your neck for her." Kira said flatly. "It's the same reason I'm here, away from Lacus and my son. It's because I want to protect her, just like you."

Marlin sank back into his seat with a relieved smile. "So you're saying that you approve of what I will do once she returns?"

"I believe Cagalli will return." Kira said strongly. "And when she does, I will tell her what I never managed to back then. I will tell her that she must do what she thinks is right and that nobody else should prevent her from doing it."

As Marlin got up to leave, Kira wondered what Cagalli would have said to Marlin's outburst.

* * *

Back in their bedroom on the Fifth Isle, Athrun was studying Cagalli.

Her smile was radiant, and her happiness was infectious. She gazed at what he'd given her, and her eyes shone.

The photographs scattered across the sheets featured Leon Yamato, and Cagalli picked one up even though she must have looked at at least ten times in this single hour. The child had a strong resemblance to the one she'd seen in the crumpled photograph featuring Via Hibiki and Kira as a baby, and Cagalli supposed that Leon would take after his father.

She felt Athrun running his hands through her hair, kissing her forehead, and she lifted the photograph into the air from him to look at it too, smiling at it, then turning to him. "I wish I could see him myself."

That had not been what Athrun wanted to hear. Against his bare chest, he felt Cagalli shift, and knew that she was thinking of Orb, as well as Kira and Lacus. That was what he had been afraid of. Perhaps, he'd had good reasons for wondering whether to show her these or not.

He frowned a little, pulling her closer. In her thin camisole, Cagalli's warmth was something almost tangible and something he could hold and collect, and he felt as if the photographs were detracting from that. "That's why I got you these. So you'd relax and feel more capable of staying here without worrying."

"How did you get these taken?" She had been distracted at seeing the child and had thought of nothing else. The funny thing was that Cagalli had been physically exhausted before that, and she'd been quite prepared to fall asleep. But Athrun had gotten up, fetched something from the coat that lay across the floor, and Cagalli had been wide awake since then.

"Shinn." Athrun said simply.

Her eyes widened. "Does Kira know that you're keeping in contact with Shinn?"

"No." Athrun told her. He shrugged, thinking of the last letter he'd sent to Kira on Cagalli's behalf. "Hopefully not."

She raised her eyebrows. Cagalli's tone was puzzled and she put down the photographs, using her hand to gather them up and hold them. "Why?"

"Shinn would be able to tell Kira how to contact me, and I'd be tracked down quite easily." Athrun explained. "That's definitely not what Plant wants, with all these people hiding here. But that's not the only reason."

"Oh?"

"If he found out about us," Athrun told her with a small smile tugging at his lips, "I don't think Kira would be thrilled."

"Do you want to bet on that?" Cagalli teased, hugging him with her arm and holding the photographs in the other hand. "And who should take the responsibility for this?"

The ring glinted on her finger, and Athrun lifted her hand, looking at it.

She felt him pulling the photographs out of that hand, setting those aside on the table and trying to kiss her. But she chuckled and pulled away, sitting cross-legged in front of him. He sat up too, and Athrun raised his brows inquiringly.

"There's something else I'd like to ask about."

"Go ahead." Athrun told her.

"Is Orb likely to go to war with Scandinavia at this point?"

Athrun decided not to lie to her. "The media is being controlled very tightly, but that isn't going to help the situation. Personally, I think that Orb is very unhappy about your disappearance and would do anything to get back at Scandinavia."

Cagalli leant back heavily, losing all strength. Her expression crumbled and she buried her face in her hands. There was this guilt that she'd struggled with even in her happiness, knowing that she could have easily escaped by now and rectified the situation.

But Athrun was here, and she trusted him- she wanted to believe in him and let him tell her that even if she returned only after six months, Orb would not go to war because of her return.

Understanding what was going through her mind, Athrun gathered her into his arms securely now, burying his face in her golden hair, trying to put her at ease.

The newspapers she had been reading before she had gone to Sweden were reappearing as strange headlines, warped and dark in ink and sombre in impact. Hundreds of children being massacred in schools by the Danish terrorists- Scandinavia hadn't been able to prevent all the information from being kept within its territories.

Like a whiff of a burning stick that would eventually become a raging fire, that news had been reported the way a neighbour would pass gossip to another. And that news had taken a life of its own and reached Orb, to the presses, to the newspaper stands, and one had found its way onto her table.

At that time, Cagalli had merely sat, jaded, cynical, not happy but not unhappy either, reading papers and knowing little of what she deemed hearsay. All she had cared about was toast, waffle syrup, and getting to work on time.

And now this- Athrun telling her that he had been working for people who had killed children in a twisted publicity stunt- people who had wanted to kill her all this time. For Orb to be embroiled in it, for her loved ones to be at the centre of it, Cagalli realised it was more than she could bear.

"I need to see Kira and Lacus." Cagalli choked out, struggling against Athrun now. "I need to speak to them again."

"I can't allow that." Athrun said wearily. "It's not something the superiors will allow, even thought I want to let you meet them. You know they are fine, Kira knows you are safe, and you've gotten the assurance that Lacus has had her child safely. It's enough for you to stay here with me."

She froze, holding his face between her hands and trying to read his face, trying to verify all that he had said with his eyes. His eyes were no longer guarded and cautious, but saddened and honest, and she sensed no lies in them.

"Please," Cagalli begged. "Let me speak to them personally. I've already promised you to stay. I'm keeping to that, really, I am. But we've gone so far already- surely-,"

"No." He said with a finality that made her ache, and she knew she could not ask him to again. If Lacus was allowed to speak to Cagalli, many things could go wrong, let alone Kira speaking personally to her.

Athrun could not afford that. His plans were already in action, and Cagalli would have to trust him. He begged her with his eyes, pleading with her to hold him again and try to trust in him. She relented and held him, letting him push her deeper into the sheets, letting him run his hands along her.

But her eyes could not meet his and she closed them instead. His touch was tender but she knew he was upset, and she tried to placate him, although it didn't seem to be of much use. Although he held her, he seemed to be just as lost as her, and they both knew they were fighting for something that now seemed to be different things altogether.

Inwardly, Cagalli wondered what the devil and the deep blue sea really was. Was it a matter of just expressing that it was one end or another? Or was it a matter of one end being worse than another? Or was that the point of the expression at all, when both were ends anyway?

As she studied Athrun, she wondered what an end with him would be.

* * *

1 month. 10 days.


	25. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 24

* * *

The time sped by as the world continued within and outside the Isle. As winter grew deeper and the snow fell more insistently, Cagalli knew that another month had nearly passed.

The time was slipping from her hands and often, she wondered why she couldn't change that. Why had she worked so hard in the past, and who had she been working for, when all she wanted was to be with someone who was so beyond her reach at times?

The air had grown frostier and sometimes, she would wake Athrun in delight and tell him to see the snowflakes that had imprinted themselves on the glass. If he could, they'd spend their time looking out of those windows, tracing pictures on the misty glass, laughing at the childish drawings that Athrun tended to end up with despite his best efforts to sketch a cat or even a fish.

Sometimes, Cagalli would be seized by a melancholy she couldn't understand, and she would wait for him to return, sitting by the window.

But even as she thought about all that she'd been through, the scenery outside the window would change from day to night and back to day quite inevitably, and all she could do was to beg Athrun to spend more time with her when he returned. He would smile at her and never make promises, for they both knew that he could scarcely keep them even now.

The only currency she could spend was her affection, for she did not have the luxury of time anymore. For Cagalli, she did not want to be conscious of how desperately she was living. She did not want to be aware of the time that was running out, and for that simple reason, Cagalli found herself wanting to be with Athrun at every second of the day.

For Athrun however, he had to be.

He took her to a few more parties despite the lack of any particular instructions coming from the Numbers. It wasn't that he was beginning to look forward to these. In fact, he had long learnt how to derive a kind of twisted pleasure in carrying out his duties while pretending to be another person at one point in the past.

But the pleasure he derived had nothing to do with his initiative to socialize, and Cagalli seemed to be the center of the enjoyment he experienced. Bringing Lyra to those in the past had consisted of him trying to get information the Eyes could use, or forging in contacts that would let him acquire the companies the Eyes needed.

Cagalli wasn't there for that.

Cagalli was there to accompany him, and he knew he did not want to be anywhere without her. He chose things for her to wear, and she would put those on and smile at him. Their trips out of the Isle to different Isle-dwellers' places still featured the blindfold over her eyes, but Cagalli did not care anymore. At least she knew the reason why the blindfold was a necessity, and all that really mattered was that Athrun was next to her.

Even when they'd returned from Rochester's, he knew that Cagalli wanted to meet Sundae Guildstern and Eshe Jupitar once more. When Lord Tessington had thrown another party, he'd brought Cagalli there, where she could meet with the new friends she'd made. While they had danced and laughed and made merry, Athrun would sit. He would sit there, watching them, watching the world and wondering how nearly seven years had passed by with crawling and how nearly six months had ran past them all.

His work was getting more difficult. Greyfriars was having trouble with rallying his supporters together, and Athrun had to convince them that Greyfriars was doing the right thing by waiting until the six months were about to be over before killing the captive publicly.

Where the Eyes were concerned, Athrun found himself in a tenser situation than before. Alstarice had always been openly against him, but he found himself fighting back one day.

The fight had started in Orlick Churchill's stronghold, right after they'd reported to the Numbers. The Numbers had praised Athrun in particular and Alstarice had been rather upset about that.

In that very hour, Alstarice Krieg had collected his things after the meeting and swept past Athrun, saying abrasively, "You shouldn't have been the one to meet the captive that night."

Sheba Velasco had held her hand up to stop Alstarice from marching off. "What are you saying, Alstarice? Are you saying that he didn't do well?"

"Yeah," Tom Edgeworth and Barnett Romia had chimed in, ready to stand up for the Fifth Eye.

"Is there some dissatisfaction you feel at the job Rune Estragon has been performing so far?" Leopold Wasser had questioned. He had still been leaning back on his chair, as was his perennial habit. "If you want to criticize, you better make it constructive."

"I'll say it if you all are chickens anyway," Alstarice had snapped, slamming down his file. He whirled to Athrun, who'd been watching quietly, and pointed his finger threateningly at him. "He's incompetent, that's what! The goons who brought him here to the Isle or even sent him on any mission at one point of time should have been shot!"

"What?" Lent Mortimer had leapt to his feet, except that Athrun had pulled him back down. "How dare you-,"

Alstarice had prowled over, leaning one hand irreverently as he'd tried to stare Athrun down. "You think it's a matter of you being a hot-shot that got you to this place? This is a place where a thousand Zaft soldiers would fight to go to if they knew it existed! But you, here? An Eye? No way, man. I can tell you that you don't deserve to be here even to serve as an aide. When I knew that you were the one who was going to be sent to fetch the Orb Princess back here, I knew it was a screwed-up mission. And I was right!" He had laughed loudly and accusingly. "You didn't even manage to get her here in one piece, and even now, you're still fighting to control her!"

He had jabbed a finger in the direction of the screen, where the Numbers' images had materialized just minutes ago. "I say it's one huge smokescreen you've thrown over their eyes, Estragon. You're not exactly fit to be here on the Isle, let alone getting the beefy roles and holding onto the captive. If you're having so much trouble getting her to stay in the manor without you bringing her out and trying to make her calm down, as you've said just now, then why not hand her over to someone else?"

Athrun had narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

Lent had frowned and then shook his head. "What would you suggest then, Alstarice? That he use force on her to make her stay?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes, that's what it takes." Alstarice had shrugged. "It's not as if she's ugly like Tom's dog or anything- ,"

Tom had glowered at him. "You leave Boarbaki out of this."

"Hey, whatever," Alstarice had shrugged again. "All I'm saying is that she's not worth very much, nor is the Fifth Eye, so putting these two in some two-bit operation is really a path towards suicide. I don't see why the Numbers or all you people don't see it."

"You say Rune's not doing a good job of controlling her," Sheba had spoken dangerously. "So what's your suggestion?"

"You could do with making her listen to you by seducing her and getting laid if you're lucky." Alstarice had peered over at Athrun. "Come to think of it, is that what you've been doing recently? Is that why you've been skipping as many meetings as you can?"

Tom's fist had met Alstarice's before Athrun's could. As Alstarice had stumbled back, Tom had used a few classic features of his vocabulary. "Fuck off, you bitch!"

The day had ended with a few people getting scratched and Alstarice suffering a black eye.

Athrun decided to reserve comment.

In the meantime, he took long swims with Cagalli in the day when the water was warmer. They would explore the manor like children, hiding from each other and then springing out from nowhere to shock the other person. Cagalli still trained with them, and Athrun knew she was improving faster than he'd expected.

At night, he sometimes had to leave for business, and she'd reluctantly see him off. But on other days and at other times, they had an uninterrupted period of time together, and the weeks seemed to be complete without her being able to ask for anything more.

At points, Cagalli would wake up to find herself in tears, but she was always comforted by the thought or presence of him. She would wake herself with her crying, or Athrun would be the one to wake first and shake her to let her escape her nightmares. She would try to wipe those tears away, ashamed of her dreams, ashamed of her weaknesses.

He would let her do what she wanted, giving her that last of her dignity, but he would not say anything.

Instead, he would only hold her quietly, never asking what she had been dreaming of, never questioning why she was crying, only comforting her without asking for anything in return. In his arms, she would fall asleep again, although it would hurt her more if she woke and found that he'd had to leave for business once more.

He never demanded to know what she imagined in her sleep, but Cagalli knew what she had dreamt of.

She dreamt of Orb, her office, that empty house, with Aaron and his niece rushing over to have dinner with her because they felt sorry for her. She dreamt of a path that only her car would use as she entered the heavily guarded, automated gates of the estate. She dreamt of a room on the second level of the house- a room that had been locked for a long time because nobody had used it since Alex Dino had left for the Second War.

She dreamt of Kira and Lacus ignoring her when she requested to carry her nephew. She dreamt of Kira shaking his head, asking her why she'd done everything she had found necessary. She dreamt of Lacus, who had given birth but had somehow become weak and wan from it. She dreamt of her friend begging her to return, and she dreamt that she had refused, and she dreamt that the room Athrun had locked her in a long time ago had become something she couldn't recognize anymore.

She dreamt of bloodstains on a silver-white dress and a ring that didn't seem to belong to her as she tried to fit it on her finger but failed each time. She dreamt of Meyrin's eyes on her at Lacus' wedding, and she dreamt that she was smiling and trying to be strong. She dreamt of violets at Lacus' wedding and the rain pouring. She dreamt of a mirror she looked into and her soaking in the bath and then she dreamt that she had drowned by holding her breath for too long and trying to remember something that she couldn't.

She dreamt of Shinn asking her why there were no servants in her house, and she dreamt of him telling her that he pitied her. She dreamt of someone holding her, someone pushing her away when she tried to open her eyes, and she dreamt of Athrun leaving.

But she never told him, because he didn't need her to say it for him to understand.

And so they lived from day to day, smiling with the best of their wills, laughing with all the energy they could muster, trying to have every moment that they possibly could with each other before the hourglass was finally filled.

* * *

Cagalli's eyes were closed as she lay on her stomach, but he could sense that she was smiling.

With her, Athrun could forget about the day's schedule very easily. He could forget who he had to meet and what he had to do.

He could forget himself.

She rolled over, smiling still and her eyes blinking as they adjusted towards him. He leaned over her, watching her colored a little, her lips parting as she whispered, "What time is it now?"

"I don't know." He answered honestly.

But then, Athrun realized, this wasn't new to him where she was concerned.

Athrun had been prepared to forgo his duties to Plant and Greyfriars the night he reappeared to Cagalli. Bringing Cagalli to the Isle had just not been part of his own plans. He had wanted to flee with her, just so she could be truly safe.

He'd thought that he couldn't bring her to the Isle where she'd definitely be trapped in a manor even while he fulfilled his duties to Zaft. Nor had Athrun want to hand her to the terrorists- they wanted to publicly use her as their sacrificial lamb and pawn.

More importantly and even more selfishly, Athrun hadn't wanted her to see what he'd become.

It hadn't mattered that Greyfriars would have been most certainly killed by the very people he'd led. There had been a significant number of those who'd grown impatient with him and his trust in Rune Estragon. It hadn't mattered that Greyfriars might have found out what he was planning and have killed him for it.

At that time, it had also mattered little that Athrun had been promised the freedom he'd wanted for so long. Plant and Zaft had held that out as a carrot, and they'd told him that seeing this final task to its end would allow him to leave the Isle and go wherever he wanted.

What was freedom anyway? What did he want to be free from?

Athrun found himself wondering about his duties and questioning himself even as he lay next to Cagalli, feeling her face rub in his shoulder, her hands clinging to him and the sheets protective along with the hanging bed curtains that formed their cocoon.

They'd washed up together, with her promising to have a few more hours of sleep even after he'd left.

She had watched him dress and she had even taken out a tie for him. But he'd pulled her to the bed, sitting both of them down. That had been the first mistake.

He'd taken her face in his hands and kissed her to signal that he'd be back soon. That had been the second mistake.

She'd looked at him trustingly and he had felt something stir in him and known that the only way to prevent his staying on had been to separate them. But he hadn't. That had been the third mistake.

They'd ended up wrestling and tussling in bed because she'd cracked a joke he should have merely smiled at and not responded to. That had been the fourth mistake.

And there was Cagalli, and he'd found himself wanting to stay with her.

That was a mistake he had come to accept.

He hadn't wanted to stay around to laze the morning away with her for today. He had so much to do, and so much was being demanded of him. But Cagalli had woken up with him this morning, and she'd put her arm around him, begging him to let her send him off. When he'd tried to leave her, she'd begged him to stay for another minute and he had.

The minute had turned into an hour, and Athrun was quite sure that it would take another one for him to get up and out of there. She had mentioned how mornings in Orb were always very quiet, and that the roads were less dusty and the dewy air much nicer than when she came home in the evening or night. In return, he'd told her about the Plants, where everything seemed sterilized, no matter how much mud the children rolled in.

"I used to roll around in the mud too," Cagalli told him amusedly. "I ruined quite a few things by hanging around in the mud and near the stream in the estate. We'd meet there and play catching or hide and seek in the woods until one of us had to leave. The maids used to get upset when I came back from a wrestling match with the other servants' children."

He laughed. "Victorious, I suppose?"

"Sometimes. But not always. The cook's eldest boy was a bit of a sly one."

"Oh?" Athrun said, his lips twitching. "When was that ever an issue? I heard from Kira that when you went back to Orb during the Second War, you convinced-,"

Cagalli grimaced, holding up a hand as she buried her face in the sheets. "Let's not talk about me tricking and then punching the lights out of Yuuna Roma Seiran. He was a useless goon that really got on my nerves because he was so useless. Not just irritating, Athrun, I can deal with annoyance and nuisance. But worse- he was useless!"

"I surmised as much." He said wryly. He thought of the way the Seiran Emir had commanded the Orb troops and wondered if Yuuna Roma Seiran hadn't been present on the day that God had given out good brains and good luck.

"When I was thirteen, I was thrilled when my father informed me he was going for further studies." Cagalli informed him. "I told my father that the further away, the better it was for all of us. Turned out he went to Paris, and he ended up even stranger than before."

Athrun chuckled. "I bet you were disappointed that he didn't stay in France for the rest of his life."

"Of course. He loved to show off his French when he returned," She grimaced again. "Which coincidentally, I was rather bad in. I still am, actually."

"Maybe it's a blessing I didn't ever manage to bring you to the house in France." He said cheerily. "Although I think you'd have liked Mont Pellier."

"Mont Pellier?" She turned over to lie on her stomach as they lay liked lazy seals on the still-warm sheets, her eyes widening. "That's the South, right? Not where the house is in Lyon."

"You're right. Mont Pellier is next to the sea," Athrun looked relaxed and his voice dipped low as he buried his face in the sheets, breathing in their scents. "It's a very picturesque place with a great deal of its architecture retained even today. Also, the people there tend to be easier going than those in Lyon."

His voice was hushed, and a slight movement of his lips captured what she imagined to be the wind and water. He lifted an arm to flex his fingers, imagining the air in the place that he had visited as a child. "I remember flying a kite in Mont Pellier, along with the other children."

"But the house you wanted to bring me to was in Lyon," Cagalli reminded him, turning slightly so that she lay in the same direction as him now. As she adjusted her body, Athrun watched her. "Lyon's in the North. How did you land up with a house there?"

"Lyon's the second biggest city," Athrun looked up and told her, studying her rosy cheeks and her sleepy expression. "My father didn't want to live in a congested city, but he didn't want to live away from an urban area too. So he got a place in Lyon even though it was urban, simply because it wasn't Paris. Work demands and the whole lot of the usual hooplah." He bent forward, his lips grazing her shoulder as she shifted, then making a small purring sound, pulling him to her as they shifted.

His voice was a bit pensive. "I thought you'd like to visit a place in the south better- somewhere near the sea. The roads there are a bit narrow, and there are boats on the water at any point of the day. They are all brightly painted and they look like flowers in the water when the sun is right, because people go fishing there."

"Draw it." She requested, sitting up and making him do likewise.

He did.

As he sat behind her, pulling the sheets down her back to expose the canvas he needed, Athrun wondered why they'd ended up like this. Why did he want to know of nothing else except the way she felt against him, the swell of her curves pressed to his body and her arms tight around him? Why was he so uneager to return to his work when it had sustained him for nearly seven years? And why did he want to forget the dateline and the time that was running out?

He could think of only that white, smooth back as he pressed his lips to her shoulder, whispering that the line he traced from her nape to her spine was the shore.

She was quiet, feeling him press his palms into one half of her back. Concentrating hard to see what he did, Cagalli knew he was thinking of a place he'd seen a long time ago and had hoped to visit again with her.

"That's the village," Athrun told her. He kneaded his fingers into a portion next to the palm prints he'd left on her flesh. "Those are the little markets that always have the freshest fish. On the fishing days, the sea's the busiest."

Cagalli felt him tracing wavy lines with his five fingers on the first line he'd drawn. His voice was wistful, and his warm breath on her neck made her shiver. "The sea's a bit rough sometimes, but the catches are usually better on those days."

"And then?" She prompted.

"The shore-," There was a small sigh in his voice and the secret he had kept within him seemed to be spilling into the air and onto her flesh now. "There were always children playing there and finding seashells." He dotted tiny spots on the line that she kept in her mind- the line that ran from her neck to the border demarcating where the sheets covered her waist.

Athrun laid his head on her back gently, admitting how his memory had failed him. "I can't remember the rest. It was too long ago."

She turned and studied him, seeing how quiet his smile was- how fragmented and lost he seemed for a second.

"You'll remember soon." Cagalli promised, letting him move to make her lie on her back as she opened her arms to take him near her.

* * *

Leon had been fast asleep, and had thus not disrupted the tranquility of the Yamato household.

In her own silence, Meyrin Hawke sat alone.

The evening had just arrived and the sunset reminded her of another one. The skies were that strange combination of pink, blue and orange, and the faint outline of the moon could be seen if one stared closely. Another orb hung in the sky, and it was a strange moment when she could see both the moon and sun.

The small garden that Lacus would have tended if she had not been so busy these days was in dire need of weeding. Still, the roses that Lacus had planted were in bloom, as they would always be in the Plant. Those filled the evening air with a fragrance that Meyrin registered and smiled at, and the swing she sat on creaked, its un-oiled chains making a melancholy sound.

She had visited this place in the past, but she had never found more affection for it than in these few weeks. Kira Yamato and Lacus Clyne's home was in another city, and Meyrin had worked and lived in Aprilius all this time. Coming here to stay with Lacus had allowed her to explore the place more thoroughly than in her past visits, and Meyrin had become quite familiar with the house and this garden.

The roses moved gently in the breeze, and it was quite easy for Meyrin to forget that the wind was controlled by a regulator system. Everything seemed natural here on the Plants, although it certainly was an imitation of what life on Earth would have been like.

It wasn't just as easy, however, to forget the things she had kept away from Lacus.

Meyrin studied a particular bud that had yet to open. Its petals remained tightly sealed, its insides unseen as the rest of the world carried on with their own lives. The bud was a small, insignificant nub amidst the other showy blossoms. But it had its dignity, and it kept its own secrets, no matter how small and weak it seemed, or how unimportant its secrets were.

Were Meyrin's secrets merely things that nobody else would want to know about? Perhaps. Were those bits of information and memories she stored within her important enough for her to keep those? Perhaps not.

But Meyrin wanted to keep those still.

When had she decided to keep her secrets from Lacus, who'd always been the second elder sister in her life? Hadn't Lacus always encouraged her and even given her the courage to fight for what she believed in and wanted to protect? Hadn't Lacus been the one person who hadn't looked at her with skeptical eyes, as if she wasn't deserving of Athrun Zala?

Meyrin shook her head, trying to rid herself of those negative thoughts. But she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried to, or how high the swing moved up with her as she kicked off with it.

Her own sister had looked at her like she couldn't quite believe that Meyrin was together with _the_ Athrun Zala. Shinn had been slightly surprised too, although he'd spared Meyrin his comments, unlike Lunamaria.

Meyrin could still remember how Lunamaria had expressed great amazement as they'd left the war memorial.

"I can't believe he went for you!"

Of course, Meyrin couldn't believe it either, but to have Lunamaria, her own sister, verbalise that?

On that day, she'd spent a great deal of time choosing her outfit, hoping to look sophisticated and grown-up with her necklaces and her dress and clutch. She'd chosen something a little more showy with the hint of cleavage, and Shinn had seemed aware of this change. Lunamaria, in her usual boyish blazers and pants, had asked thoughtlessly, "Why do you look like you're on a date today?"

Meyrin had stammered an excuse or something or the other, unable to come up with something solid or valid. She had been so glad that Athrun had not arrived to fetch them all yet. At least, Meyrin had thought, Athrun would not see her in her moment of embarrassment and would perhaps compliment her unlike her insensitive sister and the sullen Shinn.

Lacus had appeared like something out of a fashion editorial, but she had looked normal and entirely at ease, which Meyrin hadn't been able to ignore. Despite having equally pretty clothes, Meyrin had seemed to be out of sync with her sister and Lacus, and there was an uncomfortable middle ground that Meyrin seemed to have landed squarely upon.

But she'd convinced herself that she was grown up, and that like Lacus and her sister, she could stand her own ground.

So Meyrin had waited for him to say something, even after they'd left the memorial and he'd sent them back to their Zaft-allocated service apartment. She had hoped to get a positive response from him, but he hadn't taken her for dinner as she'd hoped. Along the way, plenty of males had whistled or looked appreciatively at her, despite Athrun looking totally normal even when she'd spent hours picking the clothes to wear.

But he had said that everyone looked well enough in the elevator. She'd felt slightly better and slightly more normal, even if her sister had seemed unused to what she was wearing or Shinn had only raised his eyebrows slightly at her choice of attire.

Overall, Athrun had seemed indifferent. He'd seemed to be thinking of other things, looking slightly troubled while leaving the memorial with her trailing behind him.

Thinking about it now, Meyrin laughed sadly to herself.

The swing brought her higher and higher. And for a second, the sky seemed nearer to her outstretched hand.

But then she was forced back to earth, swinging backwards, and even when she kicked forward, there was only so much further she could reach towards.

There was always a limit somewhere.

It hadn't escaped her even back then. If Kira and Lacus had been holding hands as they left the memorial, bathed in glorious rays of the impending sunset, then that was to be expected. In Meyrin's eyes, they were the golden couple, and she hadn't missed the tenderness in Kira's eyes as his loved one had held his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Meyrin hadn't even been asking for that.

But if her sister and Shinn seemed to be smiling and exchanging thoughts despite the lack of trading of words, then why couldn't she? They'd been together for a relatively short period of time, and Lunamaria seemed as stubborn and as much as a go-getter as she'd always been in the past. Shinn was still rather new at dating and pleasing a girl, Meyrin knew, but they seemed to get along well enough. They'd been walking side by side, at very least.

But why did it have to be her trailing after Athrun?

Meyrin wondered about that even now.

The air whistled in her loose hair, and she thought of the days when pigtails had been on either side of her head and everyone had thought of her as Lunamaria's younger sister. No more than that, in fact, despite how proud she was of Luna and how proud of her Luna was. Despite her talent for information-communication and engineering, why had everyone only thought of the elder sister, who'd been a pilot? Was it because she looked like a younger sister, no matter how independent she could be if given the right opportunity Had it been because of that? Or was it for some other reason?

Why did it have to be her, the only female who hadn't been by someone's side but following after the person? What had prevented her from walking by his side, and what had instinctively made her follow after him at that respectful distance?

Yolande and Vino had looked at her with admiration and a bit of disappointment when she'd told them she was Athrun Zala's flatmate, especially the latter.

Vino had inquired if there had been a shortage of apartments for the returning soldiers, or whether everybody was shunning Athrun Zala these days.

Of course, Meyrin knew that she had ended up sharing a place with Athrun Zala because there was indeed a shortage of places that Zaft was facing. She knew that he had probably agreed to let her bunk with him because he'd been concerned that she'd be bullied by her former comrades who thought she'd betrayed Zaft.

There was also the fact that nobody was likely to want to bunk with someone as seemingly aloof as him when he'd defected from Zaft yet again. There were some bad things she'd heard about Athrun when they passed by familiar colleagues who seemed more welcoming of her than him, and Meyrin had wondered why he didn't seem to care or even want to that people were saying things about him.

Of course, Meyrin had been thrilled that because of all these factors, she could stay in such close proximity with Athrun Zala.

But to have had Vino question if it was because of all those factors that she'd landed up with Athrun Zala, as if he was very sure that they wouldn't have ended up together otherwise?

Meyrin wasn't quite sure if Vino was disappointed that his cadet-days crush had landed up with another person, or his pedestal-elevated war-hero had ended up with one rather unremarkable Meyrin Hawke. Either way, she'd bit back her own disappointment that they had seemed to be surprised at the way things had turned out.

Lacus had hid her surprise well enough, Meyrin realized now. Lacus had always been able to come out of any scuffle looking unruffled and very dignified. Even when Meyrin had told her quite boldly that she was sharing an apartment with Athrun, Lacus had only widened her eyes and then said quite mildly, "Why, isn't that lovely?"

It had been Lacus, who had brought her shopping and insisted that Meyrin buy the things she liked- not the things people expected Meyrin to be wearing at any one point of her life.

It had been Lacus to insist that Athrun fetch Meyrin home when Meyrin began working the night shifts at Zaft once more.

It had been Lacus to arrange for Athrun and Meyrin to go to Kira and Lacus' new house in December city for dinner.

It had been Lacus to tell Meyrin what Athrun liked for his meals and to assure her that Athrun wasn't upset or moody, but had a habit of going for hours without speaking.

Nobody else had shown so much support for Meyrin. Not Shinn, who was busy trying to restart his life, and not Lunamaria, who was already in the thick of her new one. Certainly not her old friends, who were skeptical of what Meyrin had done, and certainly not Kira, no matter how neutral or unbiased she had thought him to be.

It hadn't taken long for Meyrin to realize that Kira, as taciturn as he was, had seemed to be uncomfortable with talking to her. It wasn't a matter of not getting along. It was in fact, a highly-justified fear of approaching topics dealing with his twin, his best friend, and what he probably thought of as his best friend's tagalong.

If anything, Kira had often looked at her with some doubt and welcomed her less enthusiastically than Lacus, who'd been far more forthcoming.

It had always been a strange thing in her mind, for Meyrin had not been foolish or distracted enough to think that Lacus would welcome anyone to try and win Athrun over. Lacus Clyne had been through a war with Cagalli more than once, and Meyrin had known even back then that Lacus thought very highly of Cagalli Yula Atha.

Just hous ago, Meyrin had finally plucked the courage to ask Lacus why she had been so accepting of Meyrin when Cagalli had been Lacus' friend.

Blinking back her tears with a smile, Meyrin kicked off into the air, swinging hard and hoping that she would never have to hit the earth even when the swing was forced backwards by gravity.

Stubbornly, she folded her legs under the swing by bending her knees as she had as a child, clinging on tight to the chains. Those would not shatter like her hopes if she clung on, Meyrin told herself fiercely. This feeling of being uplifted and being released would not go away so soon.

"Why were you so accepting of me when nobody was?"

Lacus had looked at her sadly, taking Meyrin's hands in hers. "Because Cagalli begged me to be."

She'd done everything humanely possible to make Athrun love her in return, Meyrin thought morosely. But she had failed because he had never even thought of her as someone he could be possibly interested in romantically.

The short weeks after they'd returned to Aprilius from Messiah had been something of a mess for her. She had woken up every day, beaming like a fool, putting on her uniform and tying her hair as perkily as she could, chirping her greeting to him and trying to make him coffee even if she had been pressed for time.

He'd always prevented her from doing so, telling her that he'd already drank his and had even made her hers because he had wanted her to get a few more hours of sleep. She had always left for work with a huge smile on her face, so glad that Athrun was the kind, caring sort.

In the past, she would rush home after work with things she'd been planning to cook and the ingredients she had fought with other people for at the nearby market. She would smile at the sky on the way back, and think how blessed she was.

Those were evenings just like this one, Meyrin realized, except that she did not smile at the same things anymore.

She laughed quietly to herself. She'd been alone even though she hadn't realized it.

Each evening, as she had opened the grills of the small apartment, he would already be there, at the table, finishing his meal. He'd smile at her and welcome her home, and he would tell her that he'd prepared some food for her too. The food he prepared was always better than what he left for himself, and she would be thrilled at how thoughtful he was and how he'd left the best things for her.

She had hugged herself to sleep each night, grinning away madly, more enamored by Athrun than ever. While Meyrin had been slightly disappointed that what she'd been planning would have to be postponed, the idea of having him wait for her and cook for her had been all she wanted to think of. The next day, Meyrin had promised herself each night, she would find a way to get home early to cook for him.

Come to think of it, Meyrin realized, it had never materialized. She hadn't even been able to cook a single meal for him that he'd touched. Why hadn't she realized that he had never gone beyond a level of simple care and genuine concern for her? If he'd really been waiting for her, would he have finished eating by the time she came home, never mind that she rushed for the shuttle every day?

She sighed, moving through the air now, still swinging because she did not want to go just yet.

He'd always excused himself politely if she brought out the tea as an indication of her wanting to sit around and talk to him. He'd lock himself up in that room of his, always offering to let her use the bathroom first. She had thought it had been care towards her, but his kindness had been mistaken as love for far too many times.

When he'd suddenly informed her that he was paying for the next three months' worth of rent and moving to Orb, Meyrin had wondered what had gone wrong.

Even now, Meyrin wondered if she had blinded herself to the point that she hadn't seen the truth staring right at her in the face.

Every day, at work, she had been praised by her superiors and she'd been proud to know that she had grown up and left Lunamaria's shadow behind.

Every time she came home from work with the things she'd bought and planned to have for dinner with him, she'd been so sure that she had grown up and become a woman that he would receive with open arms.

And on the night when he'd informed her he was moving to Orb, Meyrin had decided that she had one last stab at making him realize that she was everything he needed. She had thought she was grown up enough, and she had been so sure she could make him see that. She had wanted to make him see she wasn't just Lunamaria's younger sister that he had saved out of pity and gratefulness in the past.

"Yo." Shinn was suddenly appearing by her side, helping her with the swing as she sailed into the air and then swung back, as the routine had always been.

"Hey." She stopped the swing momentarily, watching Shinn get onto the other. "What's Lacus and Leon doing now?"

"Lacus is on the phone with Kira," He informed her, "And that boy is sleeping, as usual. He likes to sleep a lot. Luna's watching over him, but I guess she won't have to. When I passed by, Lacus was requesting that Luna bring Leon over so Kira could use a screen to see them all."

She chuckled, both of them swinging now. The air was getting a bit chillier, but for now, it was bearable. It was nice to have them like this, Meyrin thought briefly. She and her friend, here in the garden, leaving Kira and Lacus to talk alone, and for Kira to see his child. Shinn had always been someone Meyrin had thought of as a loyal friend, and that had remained true even after he'd changed slightly in his status as her sister's boyfriend.

"You know," Shinn remarked, "Luna and I were saying that you've changed quite a lot, Meyrin. You've really grown-up or something. I don't know what to call it."

They continued their swinging, both in opposite trajectories but both paths always intersecting in the middle for them to talk.

"I know." Meyrin said simply. "It's not the hairstyle or the clothes this time."

He gave her a surprised look as they whizzed by each other. "How did you know I was going to say that?"

That night, when Athrun had informed her he was going back to Orb, she had decided it was time. That night, she had thought of the suits she had begun wearing, thought of the dresses she'd begun wearing, and thought of how she'd changed her hairstyle and never wore her hair in tails anymore.

She had decided that she had changed, and that she had matured enough.

The night he had packed his things and told her smilingly that he had resigned from Zaft and would be taking the next shuttle to Orb in the morning, Meyrin had done something she kept as the one secret she could never tell Lacus.

Not that it was an important secret, Meyrin thought now, the swinging coming to a pause for a moment.

She looked at the house behind her, smiling wanly, then turned back, her eyes falling on the bud that had yet to bloom.

Not that it had been a secret that had affected anything either. It was simply that even an insignificant secret was worth keeping because she had nothing left of the emotions she'd once felt for Athrun, and because she had no other memory worth keeping of him.

She had taken her shower after insisting that he go ahead first this time. And later that night, she'd entered his room and slipped into his bed. She had been so sure she was ready, so sure he would protest at first because he was a gentleman, but so sure that Athrun would embrace her eventually.

Shinn was whistling a tune under his breath. She couldn't remember what the title of the song was, but she knew it was a familiar one that she hummed to as well.

Till this day, Meyrin could remember what Athrun had said to her.

"Don't." Her arms had been tight around him as she buried her face into his back, liking his scent, wanting to feel him turn and praying that he would look at her and put his arms around her too. But he had spoken calmly, almost like he was admonishing a child who didn't know what a wrongful act was. "This isn't right."

"Why not?" She'd demanded, pressing closer, trying to make him realize that she'd prepared herself for this; prepared herself to try and make him stay. He had not turned around despite or because of her nakedness, and in desperation, Meyrin had held her hand up before his face, knowing that he would at least look at that.

"She gave this to me and told me to look after you! And that's what I want, I've always wanted you to be with me, and I know I'll have to try a lot harder, but I will-," Her voice had trembled and then she had found no more words. She didn't know how to tell him why she had hoped that he would take notice of her. If only she had! If only she'd found the words to tell him of the time spent thinking of him, ever since she'd laid eyes on him. If only she could tell him that she'd waited for him until that moment, with her arms still tight around him.

"I didn't know." Athrun had said after a pause. His voice was very gentle and even humble. "I'm sorry."

But he had not turned around and touched her hand or even the ring she had put on. Meyrin had suddenly known that he had never tried to lead her on or to show more care than what was necessary. At the same time, her eyes had filled with tears and she half-wished that he had told her to leave him alone and tell her that she was nothing to him.

"How did you know that was what I wanted to say?" Shinn asked suddenly, pausing his swing and waiting for her to pause hers too. "That you'd grown up and it wasn't just the way you looked or talked?"

As she paused her swing too, Meyrin felt the friction of her feet with the ground. Slowly, she turned to Shinn, smiling. "Just a lucky guess, I suppose."

The crux of the matter was very simple.

Meyrin had grown up in the moment when she'd watched Athrun Zala leave.

* * *

"In three days' time," Harumi concluded, "The weapons they have ordered will be sent over. Of course, those will be sent to your place first for storage, and then you can decide what to do with those."

That was perfect. Alstarice, who was the head of the operations involving the drug-production, had reported just yesterday that the drugs were ready to be delivered too. Like the weapons, the drugs were useless for the customers' purposes.

For nearly four years now, Athrun had been acquiring the right companies, both through his contacts on the Isle and the contacts outside of it. The Eyes and their aides had been pooled together to achieve this purpose through various means.

Alstarice Krieg, the Fourth Eye, was in charge of a base in the Tahiti, overseeing the drug production of the companies he and the Fifth Eye, Rune Estragon, had acquired. As a businessman, Alstarice was sly and very persuasive. He did not like removing people by force, but often left it to Rune Estragon instead. Together, they'd acquired everything the Eyes needed to follow the Numbers' instructions of delaying the war that was about to erupt. Athrun did not mind Alstarice, but Alstarice certainly did not like Rune Estragon for reasons that Athrun did not care to think about.

Leopold Wasser, the Seventh Eye, had worked with the Fourth and Fifth Eye to manage the firms and the production lines. His bases were all over the world, with a few in Orb and a few in the Earth Alliance countries. With his supporting or rival firms, those that Alstarice Krieg and Rune Estragon had acquired either expanded or collapsed according to what Lent Mortimer planned.

As Harumi put down the reports she had been reading to Athrun, Athrun nodded and stood up. According to what the Eyes had planned, Marubeni Corporations had remained mostly intact on the surface. While it was going bankrupt underneath its surface, everything seemed fine.

The executives were still people that Harumi used, the cleaner was still the plump, dumpy little man with a toothless smile, the main secretary was still wearing her silver earrings, and everything seemed normal, including this meeting room. The windows around this executive meeting room still showed the world below them, although there seemed to be even more activity on the streets today.

Athrun moved slowly to the windows, staring at the melancholy world below him despite its bustling, energetic façade. Why hadn't anyone looked up? Who were all these people, and why did they have to push forward in the crowds that seemed to be moving blindly? What was their objective as they moved at the breakneck pace, and why move forward when there did not seem to be an end at all?

It was evening, although winter had made the streets look soulless and darker than what the time should have allowed for. No snow fell today, because the city was prone to warmer temperatures in the night.

Below them, a woman was in a beret and red gloves, rummaging for coins at the coffee machine. Some distance away, a man was rushing and disappearing into the crowd that was heading into the underground train stations. But the crowds poured and poured like endless sand and nothing seemed to have changed or have been completed since the day it had started.

Harumi watched as Athrun viewed the streets from above. "You look tired, Estragon. Is something the matter?"

"No, I'm not tired." He turned around to her, ignoring the view for a minute.

He decided not to tell her that he'd already finished planning what to do and was in the midst of executing it now. Cagalli was not going to be able to stand in for Harumi much longer, because Athrun had already decided that she was to leave even before the six months were up. Ko and the aides would definitely miss her, but that was not something he could help anymore than his own pain.

Athrun smiled at her, although it did not quite reach his eyes. "It's just the atmosphere of Ginza, Harumi. It drains a person without him realizing it."

"The whole of Tokyo's like that," Harumi told him bluntly. "Even before the First War and the damage it suffered, the people always moved at this pace. It was like that, especially after the post Bloody Valentine re-construction."

She stared at the perfectly constructed buildings outside the windows. The architecture did not suggest that it had been re-constructed, but Harumi knew better. She had been here for her whole life, so she knew.

Tokyo had been heavily hit during the first Bloody Valentine, and given that it was the capital, the country had suffered quite badly. But then, many countries' capitals had been targeted by Zaft as part of Plant's revenge for the Junius Seven incident. It had been a matter of inevitability that a capital as important to the Earth Alliance member-country, Japan, had been devastated by bombs and multiple rampages.

The Japanese economy had been delayed for a whole three months with the government struggling to reconstruct the city. Even when the Earth Alliance had supplied funds for recovery, Tokyo had been in a quagmire. It had been during that time that Coordinator and Natural relations within this country had suffered its worst damage and Harumi had risen to take over her grandfather's work. He had been old by then and he didn't want anything more to worry about, let alone the recent spate of conflicts that the whole world was losing its better judgment over. He had committed suicide quite happily and Harumi was immediately voted the next head.

It had been an obvious choice, despite how delicate she looked. On the surface, Kitani Harumi passed off as a socialite, and she was the heiress to many legitimate businesses that her grandfather had owned the sense to buy and use as covers. But she had worked hard for a long time with both the legitimate and illegal businesses- she had been ready for a long time.

Frustrated people were drawn to underground societies, whether in gambling in hopes of take their stress away, or even in borrowing funds to support their businesses. The underground societies were flourishing because of the trauma to the capital. Black markets were everywhere, and the steady stream of funds flowed to the top of the underground societies- where Kitani Harumi was.

But while the reconstruction had been going on, the frustrated Naturals had started a spray of unimaginably violent attacks on the Coordinators in that city. Again, that hadn't been uncommon. Even before the First War, plenty of similar conflicts had been going on.

The Coordinators in Tokyo had been doing business and living there without many problems, since Japan had never been overtly against Coordinators. In fact, there had been equal numbers of Coordinators and Naturals in the country with its economic prowess. Nobody knew if flourishing economies drew Coordinators to live there, or if flourishing economies created opportunities for people to pay for genetic enhancements. Whatever the case, Tokyo had been a city that had been filled with each person too busy rushing to care who was rushing forward with them for the train.

But after the Bloody Valentine war had started, it hadn't mattered that people needed to live and not spend time and money fighting. It didn't matter that the supervisors were people that they'd drank and had all-nighters with. It didn't matter if the subordinates were people that had never asked for a pay raise but had worked their guts out to produce at incredible rates. It only mattered who was a Coordinator and who was a Natural.

Fights had broken out everywhere in this district, as well as in many others.

In the business district of Ginza, the Coordinator-owned buildings had been attacked, and the Coordinators had attacked the Naturals in return.

The parks of Ueno had been filled with vandalism denouncing Coordinators. In the red-light district of Kabuki-cho, a Coordinator had beaten up a whore for not accepting his business, and the photographs of the battered Natural had dominated headlines.

In the shrines of Asakusa, a group of Natural children had ganged up on a group of Coordinator children and caused them severe injuries by kicking them.

The stores of Roppongi and Shibuya had lost more business than they imagined possible. Nobody had gone out much for fear of being attacked by anyone who was a Coordinator or a Natural. Nobody had known what could happen anymore.

Shinjuku's underground stations had not functioned for weeks. Kasumigaseki, an interchange, had been bombed one night, and the Marunouchi line had been closed for a week. The carriages had been used as boxing rings despite the police's best efforts to keep the fights out of there.

In fact, the police had been fighting amongst themselves. The weekends on Harajuku had featured people who'd hidden under their outrages costumes to disguise their heritages. That hadn't stopped the Naturals from ripping off those to confirm if the person under the outfit had unconventional-colored hair or eyes that hadn't been achieved by wigs, dye, or contacts. More than a few Naturals had been accidentally killed. The senselessness of it all had not mattered- only the conflict had.

It had been a city torn apart by the world's conflict, as so many other cities in Japan had been. So many other cities in the world had faced the same.

Amidst this, two lovers had wondered how to hide and keep each other safe. They had met and lasted through the First War, but then the Second War came shortly after that, and they'd separated.

Athrun had found out through Yzak Joule about Kitani Harumi's past, for she had told Ezalia Joule about it all those years ago.

Studying Harumi now, Athrun realized that Ezalia Joule must have felt empathy for Kitani Harumi. Just like Yzak, Ko had been born shortly after his father had left. While Yzak's father had been killed in a peaceful diplomatic visit to Earth right before the Junius Seven incident, Ko's father had left Tokyo right before the Second War, escaping back to New York where the conflict had been less volatile. Both women had been left on their own, and both of them had proven to be stronger than their lovers in the long run.

Harumi was still staring at the view, lost in her thoughts.

"Harumi," Athrun said quietly. "Would you like to track Ko's father down?"

His presumption struck him the minute he'd uttered that question. She was more likely to be able to track the man down than anybody else, so why wouldn't she have?

She turned to him, a little frown between her eyes. "I have tried. I did find him."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No." There was no expression in her face, and Harumi folded her hands together. "I only did it to check if he was well. I don't think he wants to see me ever again, as long as he lives. He has his own family now."

Right before the Second War, Ko's father had been injured in a scuffle when he'd been in a bar, trying to stop a fight between his two friends who'd suddenly become enemies after the Junius Seven Drop. The friend who'd been a Natural had turned against Ko's father too, for it hadn't helped that he was both a foreigner and a Coordinator, and that he'd survived the First War and flourished since then. That incident had frightened Ko's father, and in that moment, he'd lost all his nerve.

In that moment, Harumi had learnt how faithless love could be.

Left with a child in her womb, Harumi had been determined to let the child survive. She'd contacted Ezalia Joule, who'd been a contact for quite some time, and her friend had arranged for Ko to be born in the Plants, where it was unlikely to be attacked for some time.

"Why did you ask about his father?" Her voice was quiet but still stern.

Swallowing, Athrun looked at her. He did not know so many things about her, and he had never thought of actually trying to learn about those things. It was just that Harumi's expression had been so empty and so devoid of anything that Athrun wondered if she was wearing a mask like he was too. "I was just wondering what kind of person would leave his child behind."

Harumi smiled. "I never hated him. But I hated my ability to love."

She began to move out of the room, leaving Athrun standing there. But as she did, she had to walk past the row of window panes, and she saw her reflection against the city she'd seen in both its destroyed state and in its most prosperous one.

As Harumi stared at the view that her business partner had looked at, Harumi thought of the moments when she'd walked down those familiar streets with Ko's father. They'd met from very different sidewalks and from very different backgrounds. She had been a member of the underground and he had been a well-known businessman from New York who'd been posted to her country. His company had paid for protection and she'd arranged for some people to accompany him. Then he'd showed up to thank her, and despite her reservations, she had become attracted to him.

They'd ended up in a relationship, and she'd been so sure that they could weather all. What was one war, when they had still met as much as they could? But when the other had loomed on the horizon, he had left, even when she'd been with his child. His last words had been guilty ones- he had told her that it was too dangerous for Coordinator to be with a Natural, let alone one who had ties with the underground societies.

Athrun studied Harumi as she moved slowly, achingly, as if she'd been battered.

He knew that she had never despised the Coordinators for their attacks on the Naturals or vice versa, despite being a Natural. Conversely, Harumi had told him this when he'd asked for the reason why she was willing to deal with Naturals and Coordinators alike.

"They're all human. It doesn't matter how they are born or how they lived. They all die someday."

She turned because she knew that he was looking at her. As Athrun looked at her, Harumi stared fearlessly back at him. Athrun folded his arms and said hesitantly, "Will you do me a favour, Harumi?"

"That depends on what it is."

"Come back to the Isle with me. Ko misses you. You shouldn't be hesitant about returning to see him as often as you can."

She ignored his last comment and focused on his request.

"Is that the favor you're asking for?" Harumi was not to be fooled easily. Things with Rune Estragon were always more complicated than they seemed. He presented himself as someone innocuous, but Harumi knew he was far more complex and far more intelligent than he let himself appear. Already, the drug companies and weapon ones were going bust, even while he controlled the Zala enterprises that had undergone name-changes and had prospered under his control and hers.

She crossed her arms, fighting the rush of emotion in her. "I suppose I can make the time."

"Thank you." Athrun said quietly. "But there's another one."

* * *

The weather in Plant was the usual sort that one would expect from a controlled environment.

In other words, heavy rain was unlikely, the current air was balmy, the skies were clear with very pretty, fluffy little clouds in them, and sudden bolts of lightning were entirely impossible and unprecedented.

If Lacus had wondered what a snowstorm was when she'd been a child, then she knew her answer at this age. A snowstorm was a matter of the Plant weather agency failing to control the colder temperatures that their system imitated during the 'winter' seasons. In this city, snowstorms were unlikely and therefore uncommon because the agency was quite capable. Skiing would have to be done at a luxury resort somewhere in Switzerland, not in Plant.

In other words, the weather here in the Plants was as perfect as what the citizens expected it to be. The one thing that was constantly absent from Plant's newscast was the weather report, since the assumption was that the weather was perfect everyday. But perfect for what? It was perfect for a picnic. That was true. But it was certainly not perfect for building a snowman, Lacus supposed. Nor was it perfect for dancing in the rain- if people did such things nowadays.

So in this perfect weather, Lacus stood at the gates of the house, wondering if the sky would remain constantly blue until it was time for darkness. Her distracted thought were refocused however, when Lunamaria Hawke hollered, "Okay, I'm going off now!"

Smiling, Lacus watched as Lunamaria Hawke get into the taxi, wind down the window and say loudly, "Take care, all of you."

Shinn was waving too, his eyes trained on Luna in the taxi. As the car moved off, Shinn continued to wave, until Lunamaria was a speck in the distance. Panama was a rather nice place to be in, he supposed, but Luna didn't get much chance to tour the city, let alone leave the barracks.

As Lacus and Meyrin began to move back into the house, Shinn wondered if Luna would be fine.

She had lost weight because of her work and her upcoming promotion, and Shinn wasn't quite sure she had been entirely cheerful. Yesterday, she'd been a bit upset to have to go back to work, despite his best efforts to placate her.

"All fine and dandy for you to say that it's okay," Luna had muttered, right before she'd fallen asleep next to him. "You don't even work in Zaft anymore."

"I used to," Shinn had reminded her, fluffing her pillows a little more. "And I do feel your pain. Slave drivers are common at the upper level, but if you preserve enough, you can be a slave driver one day." He had grinned at her. "But for now, you're the slave."

She'd laughed shortly, easing her head on his shoulder as she closed her eyes sleepily. "Well, pray for me then."

His thoughts of Luna were disrupted by Lacus tugging on his arm.

"Sorry, Lacus?"

"Lunch." She said simply. "I'm cooking pasta. Do you like tomato or sour cream?"

Meyrin's eyes widened. "Lacus! You shouldn't be straining yourself-,"

Shinn nodded in agreement, deciding to let Meyrin vocalize his own concerns. Kira would not be pleased to hear that Lacus was cooking. It wasn't that pasta for lunch was particularly strenuous. It was just that Lacus had a habit of cooking up a storm even if it was something as simple as baking a cake. She could never stop herself from making one more dish if she saw the right ingredients in front of her.

"I'm returning to work tomorrow," Lacus reminded them. "If I'm not capable of whipping up some pasta, then I shouldn't be going back tomorrow."

"Hey, there's an idea-," Shinn piped up.

Lacus shushed him, and Meyrin put her hands on her hips. Her voice had a chiding tone in it, and Shinn was forcibly reminded of his mother, who had used to see mess that wasn't even there. "Shinn, she's right, actually. If Lacus is going to go to work, then we should support her. It's not like you're the one cooking, right?"

"By letting her cook pasta for lunch?" Shinn said weakly, failing to see the female logic that Meyrin had somehow wielded. But the two women against him were probably not going to make his decision the one that they all favored, Shinn realized. Sighing, he followed them back into the house.

As Lacus prepared the pasta, Meyrin shooed Shinn away. His efforts to convince them that he could help to cook fell on deaf and unconcerned ears.

"The last time you tried," Meyrin told him bluntly, "I ate a pie that resembled a bludgeoned sheep."

"Hey!" Shinn was a bit miffed. "That was shepherd's pie!"

"I'm sure it was supposed to be." Lacus assured him, although he certainly did not feel better at the insertion of the supposition.

Eventually, Meyrin convinced him that it was just pasta and his help was not needed, although it was much appreciated. Of course, Shinn stepped out of the kitchen, but did the obvious thing and stayed around in the living room, aware that Meyrin and Lacus were likely to start talking.

If they started talking, he wanted to listen. Not because Athrun had asked him to, but because Shinn was just being a nosy eavesdropper. Besides, he had caught Luna and Meyrin talking about their underwear sizes the other day when he'd been in the shower and they'd been wondering how much soap powder to use in the machine.

Privately, Shinn hoped a similar conversation would start between Lacus and Meyrin.

In the meantime, he took a magazine, aware that the chopping sounds were starting in the kitchen, careful to stay out of their way and careful to look interested in the things that Lacus seemed to like reading about.

The articles she read about were rather heavy-going, Shinn realized. Strangely enough, Lacus didn't seem like the sort who read much, but he supposed that she hadn't quite broken out of a giant shell and appeared as the Head mediator.

Then again, he thought fondly, she might have had. They couldn't all leap out from the mess of broken shell bits as super people, but it seemed quite probable for Lacus Clyne.

He flipped through the articles, and then settled on a particular one that featured world hunger. Shinn wasn't quite keen to read on that, but at least, it would let him think about the upcoming lunch that was accompanied by the fragrances from the kitchen.

Ironically enough, the more he read about it, the less hungry Shinn felt. And then he remembered that he'd left more than an mouthful of food on his dinner plate yesterday, and proceeded to curse his conscience for making him feel guilty. It took no more than three seconds before Shinn tossed the reading material aside and scrambled to go check on the sleeping baby.

In the kitchen, Lacus was cutting tomatoes and Meyrin was stirring the meat sauce. Meyrin had become quite comfortable in this house, Lacus noticed. She seemed to know exactly where the plates were, where the spatula was, and even where the elusive extra virgin olive oil was. Kira had hidden it away in the past, convinced that Lacus had been too obsessed about staying away from any oil other than what she dubbed 'e-v-v-o'.

Of course, Meyrin must have found it, and giving Lacus a thumbs-up, she ignored the normal oil that Kira was fonder of. Lacus beamed, thoroughly agreeing with Meyrin's healthier choice.

All in all, Meyrin seemed to know exactly where everything was. But then, Lacus realized, Meyrin had been handling the meals for the past few weeks when Lacus had been mostly sleeping and looking after Leon.

"So I told him," Meyrin was chattering now, "That Leon wakes up very easily if you bring the camera near with a flash. Shinn, being that hardheaded idiot-,"

"I am not a hardheaded idiot!" Shinn called from wherever he was, suggesting that he'd been eavesdropping from the living room.

"Being that hardheaded idiot that he is," Meyrin continued blithely, "Shinn used the flash. Leon woke up and got shocked, and of course he started crying. Shinn kept apologizing to Leon, but that was about as useful as telling a dog to meow."

Lacus laughed, throwing in the tomatoes as Meyrin giggled too. "And then? Did you get your nice photograph of the baby in peaceful, undisturbed sleep?"

"Yes!" Shinn called from wherever he was. "It should have won a prize!"

"Oh, can it, Shinn! Go to the next room and check up on Leon! Trust me," Meyrin called, "I'm not about to discuss what kind of panties Luna wears with Lacus!"

There was a terrible pause before the sound of Shinn scampering out from the living room was audible.

Meyrin turned back, looking at Lacus with a grin. "Believe me, Leon was not pleased about that."

"I think I know which shot it is though," Lacus said mildly, plucking the basil leaves now. "The one in the middle of the scrapbook, right? The one with the toy duck next to Leon?"

"Right!" Meyrin chimed. "Shinn did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself."

Next to the baby's cot, Shinn blanched. He'd taken lots of photographs of the child on the pretext of making a scrapbook as a present for Lacus, as Athrun had suggested. It had started when Athrun had called and made his request.

But Shinn had refused initially, saying it would be strange. It had been actually, since he'd been hounding the baby with a camera for quite a few days. Even Lacus had been surprised at his enthusiasm. Of course, Athrun had given him a cover, and Shinn had produced a gorgeous scrapbook with Meyrin's aesthetic help and the photographs that Athrun had wanted. The scrapbook had gone to Lacus, and the digital photographs had gone to the person who'd asked Shinn to take those in the first place.

"Don't know what you want these for," Shinn had sniffed, when he'd sent the photographs in digital format to Athrun. Athrun had probably printed those out from wherever he was by now, Shinn realized, and he looked down at the sleeping Leon.

Leon was quite small for a baby, since his parents were of rather small-build too. But as Shinn stared at the child, he felt a need to protect it, along with the affection he'd cultivated for the child that Kira had entrusted him with.

This boy had been wanted, had been hoped for, and would be loved. Shinn reached forward, touching Leon's cheek with his finger very lightly, not wanting to wake the baby.

All the same, Leon stirred and opened his eyes, mewling weakly with a tiny yawn.

Shinn found himself feeling strangely drawn to his friends' baby. Leon's eyes were the blue that he recognized, and the child's hair was a chocolate colour that had made Kira look younger than he really was at any given age. Leon's features were clearly going to be quite similar to his father's, and Shinn thought of how Kira had always seemed so quiet and withdrawn until recently.

When he'd remarked about this to Luna, Luna had commented that she'd said the same to Lacus.

"I told her that Leon was probably going to be like his dad," Shinn remembered Luna telling him. "Gentle and very reserved. Almost introverted, in a way. Lacus looked very sad when I said that, even though she smiled at me."

"And what did she say to your comment about Kira?" Shinn had asked.

Lacus' answer that Luna had repeated rang in Shinn's head now.

"Kira grew up, you see."

The baby was looking at Shinn, familiarity in his eyes. Then Leon gurgled happily and tried to grab Shinn's fingers. Leon's far smaller ones were strong, and Shinn looked at it, beaming. "You're going to be quite a handful, aren't you? Literally, I think."

He lifted Leon out, cradling the boy the way he'd seen Lacus and Meyrin do- even Luna occasionally carried Leon even though she was very afraid to try it. Shinn felt the child's tiny breaths, and he looked down at it carefully. Leon's head was tiny as was his body, and it was difficult to imagine this child growing as fast as Shinn knew Leon eventually would.

The room he was in was bathed in warm sunlight and the walls had been partially covered with colorful pictures of storks with bundle-laden beaks and that sort of thing. Only half the room was covered, and Shinn recognized the semi-completed job. Had Kira been called to Orb before he could complete the wallpapering?

His eyes wandered to the toy bird that was hopping quietly on the window sill. It had begun to break down since a few years ago, and Kira had seemed unwilling to replace or fix it. Tori had not been able to chirp for a long time, and it couldn't fly very high now. Its mechanism was also slowing down, and it looked a bit rusty and old.

Yet, Kira had left it to degenerate.

When Shinn had asked why in the past, Kira's answer had been a wistful one. "I could try to fix it, but I rather leave that to Tori's creator. Besides, it seems right to let Tori age along with all of us- it would be unfair for it to be still able to fly."

In his arms, Leon was still gurgling away, and Shinn knew it was only a matter of time before Leon's first words came about. But in the meantime, the child was helpless, weak and powerless to do anything except smile and cry, and Shinn decided he wanted to make Leon smile as much as possible.

"It'll be more difficult to when you grow up," He told the child quietly.

It was a pity that Shinn did not know any lullabies. The only songs that he knew a child could rest to were probably the songs that Mayu had once hummed as they'd walked to school together- songs she'd learnt in music lessons. Something about one two three, Johnny catching a flea and the flea crying, Johnny dying and the counting starting again.

Shinn scratched his head with one hand. Or was it the other way around? Was the flea supposed to cry in horror, and was Johnny supposed to die of the shock of finding a talking flea, or was the flea supposed to die of stress and Johnny supposed to cry from the loss?

He wondered what Mayu had used to sing about when she used her hairbrush as a microphone. Even at the ripe old age of twelve, she had displayed the tendency to bounce into his room and jump on his bed, playing air guitar and using various props as her singing equipment. Mayu was no Lacus Clyne, but Shinn knew she had owned a sweet voice. She'd loved to listen to Lacus Clyne and she'd even wondered why Lacus had not released a new album after the First War.

Now, Shinn thought it was pure irony that he had been maddened by the grief of his family's death to support a man who'd tried to have Mayu's idol assassinated when Lacus had done no wrong. It was also strange that he was carrying Mayu's idol's child, considering that Shinn had never really worshipped Lacus Clyne the way Mayu had.

At this point, Leon seemed to be looking expectantly at him.

"Hey, you just woke up," Shinn told him. "It wasn't me who really woke you up, so it's not my responsibility to put you back to sleep right?"

The baby made a gurgling sound and its eyes widened.

"Woah- you want me to sing?"

Of course, Shinn thought wryly, he was no Lacus Clyne. He wasn't even at Mayu's level of karaoke prowess either. The last time he'd visited a place which required him to sing was his bathroom and that had only been when he was in an extremely good mood. Even during Vino and Yolande's karaoke sessions, Shinn's singing would signal the point when all of them had one too many jugs of beer.

In other words, he did not sing.

Leon was still looking at him with those blue eyes, as if waiting for something to happen.

"Forget about it." Shinn muttered.

After all, his singing voice was rather embarrassing to himself. It was also a pain to his neighbors when he showered. Either way, Shinn did not want Leon to cry. So he rocked the baby slowly, closing his eyes as Leon remained silent. The little tyke was probably wondering when the song would start, but Shinn knew that silence was better for the health of their eardrums.

With the child in his arms, Shinn began thinking of Leon's parents and of the past that Kira had been through. The silence and the movement of Shinn's arms must have been just as soothing as the lullabies Lacus usually sang to the child, for Leon slipped back into his slumber.

If he had his way, Shinn decided, this baby would never have to go through the pain that Kira and Cagalli had suffered.

* * *

_The clock was chiming and with an impatient little movement of his wrist, Shinn shut it. He didn't exactly need an alarm to go off right now when it was eleven at night and Lacus had just fed Leon. He gazed at them and wondered what was going through the baby's head as he looked at Shinn trustingly. The mother was equally relaxed in Shinn's presence and Shinn was thankful for that._

_For now, Lacus was resting, tired out from caring for Leon and having to meet the guests who'd come today. As Shinn sat next to Lacus' bed, watching her stroke Leon's fine, mist-like hair, he wondered why Lacus looked so pale. _

_She'd spoken to the guests in private for a long time, and they'd only left an hour ago. Meyrin and Luna were already asleep in the rooms that they were occupying in this house, but Shinn had stayed up to wait for the guests to leave. He hadn't felt safe with them here in this house, since they were ultimately strangers to him._

"_I'm fine, Shinn." Lacus was looking at him gently. "You've had a long day. You should go rest too."_

"_No," He assured her. "I'll just sit around for a bit more until Leon falls asleep, and then I'll go sleep too."_

_She sighed, patting the baby's stomach as it moved energetically in her arms. "He seems too nocturnal for his own good."_

_Shinn chuckled. "Perhaps. But he behaved very well when you were busy speaking to the guests. He was a good boy when I was handling him."_

_She'd entrusted the child to him while the three of them had disappeared into Kira's study. But from Lacus' haunted expression, Shinn knew that they hadn't been discussing things like daisies and cupcakes. In fact, Shinn had a pretty good guess about what they'd been speaking about._

_They'd probably been talking about Cagalli's disappearance._

_From the looks of it though, the guests hadn't been menacing at all. While Shinn had long learnt never to go by appearances alone, the middle-aged couple had seemed quite harmless, gentle even, when they'd asked to carry Leon. Lacus had agreed to it immediately, although Shinn had been less forthcoming._

_After all, Shinn had still been rather surprised to see strangers ringing the bell at the gate, and he'd even wanted to chase them off, thinking they were members of the paparazzi pretending to be well-wishing friends of Kira and Lacus._

_But Lacus had let them in, hugging them excitedly and telling them how glad she was that they'd come to December City. Shinn had stared as he'd never heard anything about them before. _

"_Who were those people?" Shinn asked doubtfully. Before he realized it, he'd thought aloud and Lacus was looking at him, smiling a little._

"_People who are to be trusted." Lacus answered firmly. "They are as good as grandparents to Leon, and they are the only people other than Via Hibiki who Kira recognizes as his parents. She got up, putting Leon in his cot. The baby began to make chirpy noises, clearly trying to get his mother's attention so she'd pick him up again. Only when Lacus laid her hand comfortingly on his head, did Leon calm down._

"_Why would he acknowledge those people that came today?" Shinn was confused. "I mean, that was his Uncle and Aunt, right? They told me when I asked."_

"_They were the ones who brought him up." Lacus revealed. "In the past, he was upset and didn't speak to them for a long time when they told him that he was a Coordinator and not a Natural. He assumed they'd been the ones to manipulate his genes and they didn't tell him that they didn't make the decision._ _That would have meant_ _telling him the truth about his real parents. The truth was more painful than what he assumed for those years."_

_Shinn felt very awkward suddenly. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at the child, at Lacus, then back at the floor. "I've never heard Kira talk about his childhood, so-,"_

_He trailed off, realizing that he'd heard little from Kira in general anyway. Kira Yamato never seemed to want to talk about himself much. He was a very good listener, as Shinn could attest to, but Kira did not seem to be a very willing speaker. The few words that Kira would say seemed to be only out of necessity, and that was why Shinn was so fascinated by the speeches Kira made while in Orb and watched telecast after telecast of it._

"_It's very simple." Lacus told him. "Haruma and Caridad Yamato took him in at his mother's request. He and Cagalli were only babies, but their birth father wanted to use them in the laboratory, and his mother sent Kira to her sister. That was before the fire broke out and everything was destroyed, of course." _

"_But what about Atha?"_

"_When Kira was sent off to his aunt and uncle's house," Lacus explained. "Cagalli wasn't even born yet. Kira was taken from his mother's womb before delivery, as the experiment's basis had always been, and his fetus was developed outside a natural womb. But not for Cagalli." She smiled sadly. "It was a perfect scenario for Ulen Hibiki. In experiments, you always need a control, right? The experiment was to prove that if genetic enhancements can be made to a child when it hasn't even really formed and it is still a bunch of cells, then the enhancements will be even more effective than when those are made to a child that is delivered. Cagalli was to be the control." _

_Shinn was filled with a rage that seemed both familiar but even deeper and more difficult to control than anything he'd felt before. "That bastard! How could he do this to his own wife and children? "_

"_That's why," Lacus said softly, "Kira is technically the older brother if you consider that one's birthday begins on the minute when the child is separated from his mother's womb. Cagalli was delivered naturally and much later. When Kira could be taken from the artificial womb, the enhancements had already been made. Via used her authority as one of the laboratory heads to take Kira away to her sister's house. Thankfully, Ulen Hibiki didn't realize what his wife had done with Kira." _

"_Shouldn't he have noticed?" Shinn said weakly. "Wasn't Kira the all important test-subject?"_

_She shook her head. "Kira was the most important test-subject but there were other Kiras to deal with. You know that there were clones made of him, don't you? Those went through the prototype-experiments first, and quite a few weren't taking well to the pre-birth enhancements. At that time, Ulen Hibiki was dealing with those problems. In fact, he was so busy that he never quite set his eyes on the son that was growing in an artificial womb. He was far too busy with the prototype-Kiras and deciding how to improve the later stages of the enhancement that the clones didn't seem to be adjusting to. That's how Via Hibiki was able to get Kira over to her sister's place, although it had been too late to try and convince her husband not to carry out the experiments on Kira."_

_She looked at Shinn and he saw tears in her eyes, although her voice was steady._

"_A few days before the fire broke out, Cagalli was born naturally. Her biological father never laid his eyes on her after he took a sample of her blood to use the DNA for cloning. She was left alone by her father because they wanted to let her grow for a months before manipulating her genes. Right after that, Via took Cagalli and visited Kira at her sister's house. That's the only time she saw them both and that's when the only photograph we have of her was taken." Lacus folded her hands together. _

_Shinn thought of how tranquil Via had looked, with the joy clearly in her eyes and the tenderness of her smile present as she'd held the twins. He'd seen Cagalli pausing in front of that photograph before leaving for work at times, and Shinn had never wondered if Via had really been happy at that time. Perhaps, those were the final moments of her eventually-extinguished happiness, and that picture of her had been the last proof of it._

"_Then Via Hibiki sent her daughter to an orphanage without leaving her name or any form of identification." Lacus told Shinn. "But Via left specific instructions and quite a large sum of money, telling the orphanage that she would return very soon to collect the child. Her daughter was unnamed at that time too. By then, Caridad had promised to locate and lawfully adopt the baby girl once it was safe to. Then they'd leave for Copperincus, where Kira had already been brought to by Haruma."_

"_Why couldn't Via Hibiki leave Atha there with her sister and Kira?" Shinn demanded. "Why bring Atha to visit and then leave her in some orphanage?"_

"_Because Via was desperate to save them." Lacus told him. "Because Via knew that her husband was already suspicious of her sudden obedience with running tests on Kira. Her husband had left her to handle Kira-01, as he was called, and she'd taken that chance to get her son out of there. Eventually, he was going to find out what she'd done with Kira and that the hours she spent locked in a lab were just hours she pretended to be checking on an empty artificial womb. And on the day when she'd left Cagalli in an orphanage, Via had later returned to the laboratory. The final enhancers were to be done that very day, so she went back to face her husband. If she had disappeared to Caridad's place with Cagalli too, it would be far too easy for Ulen to track both Kira and Cagalli down and take them back. Besides, Via wanted to buy time with her husband and prevent him from finding out what she'd done. She was probably prepared to lie to him to throw the scent off for a while. But the fire broke out too soon for Via to escape and reunite with her children."_

_Shinn fell silent._

"_By that time, Caridad had done the smart thing and sent her husband and Kira to Coppernicus. When the fire broke out, Cagalli was safe in an orphanage. And when Caridad knew it was safe to locate and bring the baby girl to Kira," Lacus said somberly, "She went to the orphanage. But the child who'd been left there was nowhere to be found. The baby girl had been adopted by a mistake the management made. Caridad took a long time and quite a lot of effort and money to persuade the orphanage to reveal the identity of the adopted parents."_

"_Who were they?"_

"_Nobody, that's the thing." Lacus smiled wistfully. "Caridad left Coppernicus to Orb, trying to track down the adopted parents. In fact, the names didn't even exist anymore, and Caridad thought she'd been taken down some wild goose trail and bamboozled by a money-greedy orphanage. But the orphanage had revealed the child was in Orb, and Caridad visited to try and locate her. The child couldn't even be found after she tried to check the birth registrars."_

"_Funny," Shinn muttered. "Wouldn't the Orb Princess' birth be quite an event to remember or celebrate?"_

"_It never was." Lacus told him. "Nor was her name recorded in the birth registrar until much, much later. Her own adopted father didn't even know when she had been born. Of course, the only people alive who did were Haruma and Caridad Yamato."_

"_So how did they track Cagalli down?"_

"_They used the contact numbers the adopted parents had left, and one of those led them to a man who'd recently bought his house from a woman with a different name that Caridad was given. Caridad wondered if the name the orphanage had received was an alias, and she asked for the previous home-owner's number. Eventually, they found the woman who'd been in the civil service but had recently resigned. The woman never offered an explanation as to why she resigned, but Caridad convinced the woman to tell her how the baby girl had ended up moving out of an orphanage to be adopted by her employer. Eventually, the former-civil servant talked because Caridad kept pleading with her."_

_Shinn widened his eyes. "So Caridad Yamato realized that it had been the Orb Head who'd adopted the baby girl?"_

_Lacus nodded. "She and Haruma tried to arrange a meeting with the Orb Head. The Orb Head insisted that he'd picked the child from all those available and that he would never return the baby girl that he'd already named. Caridad kept pleading with him but he was quite adamant about it. She even cited how it had been an accident that the girl had even left the orphanage, but Lord Uzumi would have none of it."_

_Shinn pursed his lips. "Atha never talked about this."_

"_Why would she?" Lacus said painfully. "Imagine growing up while knowing that your father adopted you because he needed an heir. I understand from the reports that came after her coronation that she was personally chosen by Uzumi, but Cagalli never seemed to believe it."_

"_Neither do I." Shinn said vehemently. "Why would he choose a girl as an heir? It lacks sense."_

_Lacus sighed. "And there was that resigned civil-servant who'd adopted a baby girl on behalf of Lord Uzumi. Why would she suddenly resign if she was understandably and presumably at a very high position to be entrusted with a top-secret decision? I don't think it was a simple resignation. I think there was a mix-up on Orb's side too."_

"_So why wouldn't Lord Uzumi give the girl back to the people who'd come to look for her?" Shinn questioned._

"_I'm not sure_. _Caridad told me that it ended with the Orb Head telling them that he was very sorry for their trouble and their pains. Having said that, he told them that he could never give up the baby girl he'd named Cagalli back to them. More than that, he told them that they could never let the twins meet."_

"_That's so selfish!" Shinn cried. "Just so he could have an heir?"_

"_Both parties were eventually convinced that letting them meet would mean telling them the truths about their separate adoptions, and that would lead to them knowing about their real parents and having to go through more pain than they had to know. That's why both agreed the twins would never meet." _

_Shinn narrowed his eyes, his old hatred of Lord Uzumi running through him once more. He had accepted Cagalli, but there was that old resentment of the person who'd made decisions costing his parents and Mayu their lives. "I think he knew that would make them leave. He probably just didn't want the matter to blow up. He probably didn't want everyone to know he had to adopt a child since he had no wife or couldn't give birth to one. He was probably impotent or didn't like women or something."_

"_I understand what Uzumi Nara Atha meant though," Lacus said wearily. "If he let the twins meet and understand how they'd separated and how Cagalli had eventually become his daughter, she might want to leave. It wouldn't matter that Uzumi had wanted to adopt a child and had adopted her, even if through some twist of Fate. It wouldn't even matter that her twin had been sent to Coppernicus, where Caridad had migrated to. And Uzumi would be left without a child he'd already grown attached to. It would be impossible for him to adopt again, both in terms of the procedures and also in terms of the feelings he'd invested on the child."_

"_I see." Shinn stilled. "That's why Kira Yamato and Cagalli Yula Atha never met until much later. Then the photograph I saw in her house-?"_

"_That was given to her by her father much later." Lacus told him. "The writing at the back was completed by Caridad herself, since she found out what the girl's name was eventually. Kira and Cagalli." She stood up, turning around and drying her eyes almost unnoticeably. Leon had fallen asleep some time ago, but Lacus felt restless and ill at ease. "That was why they only met sixteen years later."_

_Lacus looked at him wearily. "That's why it's such a pity-,"_

_Shinn burst up from his chair, his voice shaking. "She's coming back. She will."_

_Lacus turned, looking at him with that quiet countenance that made Shinn feel insecure suddenly. "She must."_

* * *

In the kitchen, Meyrin was speaking about Shinn and his tendency to be overprotective of children.

"He's overprotective all the time with me," Meyrin had complained, frying the meatballs at the same time while Lacus handled the pasta. "Like I'm not a grown-up or something!"

"Well," Lacus teased, "You are rather like a young, pretty girl he has to protect for his girlfriend too. Part of his brotherly duties, I expect."

Meyrin snorted. "Please don't tell me it's the pigtails! Anyway, that was so yesteryear." She flipped her hair confidently; the red waves made loose to give her a more mature look. "He just refuses to back down when I tell him I'm not Luna's baby sister anymore. There was a thug bugging me the other day when I went shopping for groceries with him, and I got fed-up and asked to be left alone. That thug started cussing and you know what he does? He tells the guy not to swear because there's a minor around!"

Lacus giggled. She doled out the sauce, the delicious-smelling steam making the kitchen warm while their laughter brightened the place.

"And with Leon too!" Meyrin rolled her eyes. "He just doesn't want to let me hold Leon even though Leon likes me better! He says I'm not strong enough to hold Leon in my arms for more than fifteen minutes! He times me! But he'll carry Leon for an hour if you don't come along. He says Leon and him _get_ each other-," She grimaced. "Whatever that means when you say it with that emphasis."

Lacus grinned at Meyrin. "Actually, I grew up with Athrun Zala and Yzak Joule. I used to hear Yzak Joule tell Athrun Zala to leave me out of their games. Chess, in particular. He used to say that females just didn't _get_ it, whatever get means with that emphasis."

"Men." Meyrin chirped, taking out a table-cloth. "The last male I hung out with boasted that they have a fifth sense. Idiotic, chauvinistic pigs!"

"But Shinn probably sees you as a younger sister," Lacus commented. She smiled fondly at Meyrin, wishing she had a sister half as lovable as her.

Meyrin was busying herself with frying the mushrooms in butter now, and the smell filled the kitchen, making Lacus feel hungrier than she had in a long time. Meyrin did have extraordinary culinary skills, and Lacus was always glad to have her here during meals. She studied Meyrin, who was spooning the mushrooms out and then taking off her apron.

"He's very caring towards you and your sister, you know." Lacus grinned.

"Well," Meyrin turned around, looking a bit hesitant suddenly. "I suppose people tend to be like that. They tend to replace in their hearts, even when they say they'll never be able to. That's the only way to deal with loss, I think. That's why people can still move on when they realize they can't forget."

Lacus studied the girl.

How grown-up Luna, Shinn and Meyrin had become suddenly! There was Lunamaria, who had been always a little too independent and self-assured for her own good to the point of being reckless and even irresponsible! She was about to become a captain in Zaft, and she'd learnt what it meant to look out for others and learnt why being so forceful and assertive often did harm to those who were concerned about her.

In the past, Shinn had been warped by his resentment and fought at any chance he got just to prove he was worth something. Now, he was looking after a child that wasn't even his, caring for it and learning what it meant to live for someone else instead of himself for once. Had he noticed why Kira had thrown himself into the work at Orb and had never complained even once? Or had Shinn noticed the way Cagalli had done the same just for the single memory of her father?

And Meyrin-

Lacus studied her. Soft-spoken but with a newfound confidence, Meyrin was very attractive even if she'd lost the old qualities that men who appreciated the Lolita appeal looked for. She still had that young naiveté about her face, but how intelligent and mature she was! How different they all seemed beneath their familiar exteriors! While time had seemed to go on for all of them, how had the three young people she'd met some years ago become this fine man and women she was proud to know today?

"At least Shinn's moved on." Lacus murmured. "It's more difficult than most people realize."

"If you ask me," Meyrin remarked, "I think he feels a bit guilty all the time. That's why he always looks uncomfortable when you mention Athrun or Cagalli."

"What do you mean?" Lacus inquired. "I did notice he looked a bit nervous when I mentioned both the other day. But what's he guilty about?"

"Shinn probably feels partially responsible for the way their relationship failed." Meyrin told her.

"Why," Lacus was puzzled, her hands pausing as she lifted up a lid of a pan. "That doesn't seem quite right."

Meyrin shrugged. "I think it's right that he feels that way, even if Cagalli never blamed him for shooting off his mouth and saying some horrible things about her and Orb in front of Athrun. It's like he feels that what Cagalli eventually did for Orb's sake ruined her and Athrun's chance at being together. Cagalli agreed to marry Yuna Roma Seiran even though she was engaged to Athrun, right?"

"I suppose so." Lacus said thoughtfully. She turned and checked the fire. "I think this should be ready."

In no time, the food was laid on the table, but Meyrin's calls to Shinn did not seem to be answered. Since Meyrin was busy with getting the cutlery, Lacus offered to fetch him and Leon.

As she wove her way out of the kitchen, Lacus caught sight of herself in the pans and sighed inwardly.

She'd put on some weight after her pregnancy, and while she did not look overtly heavy, Lacus wondered why the puffiness of her face did not seem to be going away. Perhaps, she'd been taking too many late nights and having too few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Hopefully, Leon would outgrow his habit of waking up and demanding to be carried or fed in the night.

As Lacus traipsed around, calling out to Shinn, she paused when she saw him.

He'd fallen asleep in a couch, with Leon cradled securely in his arms. He was snoozing, looking a bit frazzled even in his sleep, like he was having a slightly unhappy sort of dream. His frown indicated that his mind was still thinking of something difficult or something he'd not wanted to think about.

Overall, his expression did not look quite peaceful, although her son seemed to be quite happy and safe with Shinn.

Smiling at both, she woke him up by taking Leon from him, and Shinn immediately leapt up, looking rather like a threatened animal. Then he realized what was going on and flopped back into his seat, looking a bit apologetic. "Whups. Didn't know I fell asleep. Leon must have as well."

"You've been working hard for these few days," Lacus said patiently. "Thank you, Shinn."

He smiled wanly, thinking of why he'd really agreed to come here with Luna when she'd called and told him she wanted to visit Meyrin and Lacus. Athrun had made an express order that he was not to say anything that would lead Kira to know anything more, and Shinn sincerely hoped that he had not done anything of that sort.

"Don't mention it. It's nothing, really."

* * *

Watching Cagalli run and clash wooden swords with Harumi, Epstein felt his worry give way to surprise and then growing amazement as Cagalli executed attack after attack. Cagalli had never looked more confident while attacking than she currently did, and she was lethal in her precision and flawless in her footwork. More than that, Epstein knew she had a tendency to be somewhat of a daredevil when she was forced into a corner, and that always provided an element of surprise.

Harumi was as usual, flawless in her tactics and movements. It was difficult how to see she could move while wearing that outfit of hers, Epstein thought briefly, but it was Kitani Harumi, after all. She could have been wearing a blindfold over a balaclava and still been very formidable.

Next to him, Athrun was watching quietly, a small smile of satisfaction playing on his lips, and Epstein knew his foster parent's plans were going well. Athrun had been training her for some time now, and Cagalli's stamina had increased dramatically. She had already been rather competent in hand-to-hand fights before this, but now, Cagalli was more than adequate.

Harumi did look a little taken aback as Cagalli flew towards her, but Harumi was even more experienced and possibly more determined, and she responded with equal force.

In a hushed tone, Epstein asked, "Isn't she ready?"

"Yes." Athrun answered quietly, turning and moving out of the training hall.

As Epstein followed, he cast a look back at Cagalli. She was defending herself now, and the way she leapt and deflected reminded him quite significantly of Athrun. Athrun had taught her well, and Epstein knew she would be able to last quite long against Harumi.

Athrun had taught her more than that too. At present, Epstein knew Cagalli was a rather crack shot with short-distance firing and could aim directly for the heart even during surprise attacks. Athrun had been bullish about that, insisting that she perfect the timing and her reflexes, and Epstein had been surprised to see her obeying and learning. Clearly, Athrun had a hold on her that she didn't quite realize, and Athrun had managed to pass on the skills she needed to have.

Hours before that from the tower, Epstein had used a pair of binoculars to watch the yacht steer its way back into the tiny harbor surrounded by rocks. It was both a hiding place and storage area, and it was also difficult to pilot because of the large, jagged rocks in the way. At first, Epstein had thought nothing of the yacht returning with Athrun and Cagalli. Later though, when Athrun had informed him that it had been Cagalli doing the steering, Epstein had found himself very impressed.

Athrun however, had seemed less surprised.

"Why aren't you surprised that she's quite good at using that yacht?" Epstein demanded now, following behind Athrun.

"She's a natural pilot," Athrun told him. "Not the best, but certainly above average, very competent and it comes instinctively to her."

"Cagalli's a natural, right?" Epstein inquired. "You told me she could pilot mobile weapons too. How, if she doesn't take enhancers?"

Athrun shrugged. "I never figured that out. But I suppose she has that ability and she did have rather good training from Morgenroete with plenty of practice. I'm not sure if she can still pilot now though- you do have to keep at it or the skill level does drop quite quickly."

"Really?" Epstein widened his eyes. "Then you-,"

"Yes. I can attest to that." He said wryly. "The last time I took a mobile weapon out for a spin was when we last trained, Epstein. That was-," He thought for a bit and then shrugged. "-never mind."

"You old man." Epstein grinned. "You still speed like mad in that car. I'm glad you have a chauffeur like me- you drive your car like you pilot your Infinite Justice."

Athrun had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I suppose I tend to forget that piloting is different from driving at times. I did run into that problem when I switched from auto-pilot mode in the yacht to manual mode. I found myself steering more forcefully than required. Nearly broke off the wheel, except that Cagalli stopped me."

"I can't believe taught her how to use that yacht though."

"She's quite decent at it."

"I'll bet." Epstein said, thinking of the rocks she'd steered her way out of.

"And besides," Athrun added, looking at Epstein, "She's been practicing very hard for these few days now."

"Yeah?" Epstein snorted. "I bet that's not the only thing you had her do when you were both out at sea."

He'd watched Athrun's lips quirk and Epstein had laughed in relief, knowing that their relationship was going well.

Athrun was certainly pleased at Cagalli's ability to use the yacht now, as well as to shoot accurately in close and long ranges. She'd lost her fear of using a gun now, and she was fine with using it to the point that it was like an extension of her arm.

Athrun strode to his study, getting ready to call Tom. It was time to leave for Prague and as much as Athrun wanted to stay and watch Cagalli, it would not do to be late. Erik Stumsson was already waiting, and Athrun didn't want to keep him doing that. There was plenty to discuss and plan, now that Cagalli had perfected what Athrun needed her to do.

* * *

As Lent Mortimer finished his report to Seven, he was prepared to cut the line, except that Seven was suddenly saying, "Your primary aide is Miles Summon, am I correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Get him on the line. I want this conversation to be confidential."

Lent understood. That meant closing the doors and not listening in even though Lent was sorely tempted to. What could Seven be asking from Miles Summon that he didn't want anyone else to hear?

Within minutes, Miles Summon stood before the screen, feeling slightly uncomfortable. The doors of the meeting room were closed and he felt himself sweating just a little. The hierarchy of their organization was abided by very strictly, because orders had to flow seamlessly and the risks of soldiers acting on their own wills were far too great for Plant and Zaft to bear.

"What medication have you been supplying to the Fifth Isle?" The question was more like a demand.

For Miles, he wondered if he'd acted wrongly. The instructions the Eyes had given were always to be followed by their aides. Even when he was the primary aide of Lent Mortimer, he was still required to do as the Fifth Eye had asked of him. The only people reporting to Miles Summon were the second and third aide that the Second Eye worked with, and Miles was still bound to follow the orders that the Fifth Eye had conveyed through Epstein Cleamont.

Of course, if a Number was speaking to him, a mere aide even if he was the primary one of the Second Eye, Miles had every reason to feel quite uneasy. Had he done anything wrong? Since when had a Number wanted to speak to an aide?

"Answer the question," Seven demanded.

Miles quaked and said stiffly, "Er- the usual, sir. The usual painkillers that are given to all Eyes and Isles for training, the usual aspirins and the usual cough-drops and flu-vaccinations and the-," He realized he was rambling and quickly shut his mouth. He had worked under Seven once before he'd been asked to come to the Isle, and he knew that Yzak Joule was a highly impatient person.

"Yes, yes," Seven said hastily. "What else? Anything out of the ordinary that the captive has been requiring these days?"

Miles ran though a mental checklist. "No sir, nothing that she hasn't been given in the past."

"Such as?" Seven barked.

"Flu-jabs, tranquilizers, aspirin and the pill."

He flinched as the voice squeaked in its fury. "What? Say that again!"

"Those were necessary for preventing her mood swings," Miles explained quickly. "At one point, she was in trauma, sir."

He could recall that the Fifth Eye had been rather bogged down at one point, having to handle the new shipment of refugees into the Manor while keeping the captive chained to the bed in case she hurt herself. She had been in a state of trauma, and she had seemed to have slipped into depression. Preventing her monthly flow of blood and the hormonal changes along with that seemed the best way to prevent her from becoming more volatile.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. "Oh- oh right, I see." But then the voice seemed to grow in its suspicion again. "But you're still sending that combination with each shipment of medicine to the Isles?"

"There was no order to change it." Miles explained helplessly. "None that came to me, anyway, sir. Maybe she's still a bit volatile, so they thought that continuing that prescription would be good for them to control her anyway."

At least, Miles hoped, that would make her less of the wild animal he'd seen in the past. He could remember her flying at him in a rage and he shuddered now. The Fifth Eye had always seemed a bit stressed around her- maybe she was the kind who made everyone a bit jumpy.

"Right." Yzak was quite sure he had caught onto something. "Right. Thank you, Miles."

He cut the line.

* * *

Back in the training hall, Cagalli had just lost the fight that Athrun had made her enter. He'd brought her here to the hall, telling her that he wanted her to meet someone. Upon stepping into the hall, she'd seen Harumi and began to run towards her. So had Harumi, except that Harumi had whipped out a long, wooden sword at the last second and tripped Cagalli with it.

Now, Cagalli was pinned to the ground again. Harumi's sword was right in front of her face, and Cagalli was panting as profusely as Pepita had done after running for hours along the coast.

"O-Okay," Cagalli said quickly. "I give up."

She watched the white teeth flash as the petite woman put aside the wooden weapon and pull her to her feet. "You're way too good for me, Harumi."

"But you lasted for a much longer time than I thought possible," Harumi said calmly. "Quite a feat, Cagalli."

"Thanks." Cagalli shook her head. "I suppose that using wooden swords are less threatening and pressurizing than real ones." She brightened up. "How was Ko?"

"He has improved." Harumi said composedly. "A lot more focused than before. A better centre, a better placement of his attacks- everything. Like with you, I was surprised to find that Ko lasted for fifteen minutes while sparring with me."

"Oh-," Cagalli's expression fell. "I didn't really mean his skill with-,"

Harumi only smiled enigmatically, waving away Cagalli's concerns with an unconcerned hand. Cagalli did not know what to make of it, but Harumi gave her little time to do so. "Come with me. I have a gift for you. But you must take a bath first."

"Y-You shouldn't have," Cagalli stammered, but again, Harumi waved her hand imperiously.

When they entered the room that Cagalli had previously occupied, she winced a smile to Harumi and fetched a towel, knowing that Harumi could not be disobeyed. She fled into the bathroom, and Harumi took a seat, waiting for her. Naturally, Cagalli felt relief. Harumi did not know she had a relationship with Athrun then, Cagalli thought, and that was why Harumi had come to this room instead of Athrun's.

Before long, Cagalli emerged, dried as best as she could. But Harumi had taken something out- a parcel that she unwrapped upon seeing Cagalli. And then Harumi swirled its contents out over the bed, and Cagalli saw an exquisite robe unfold. The robe Cagalli picked up was like a canvas of a painting, and her eyes widened as she noted the craftsmanship that had made this robe. But she had scarcely any time to stand there, looking at it, for Harumi was suddenly grabbing the scruff of Cagalli's neck by her shirt and pulling her top off.

Immediately reminded of Mana, Cagalli squawked in surprise and tried to pull away, but Harumi was even stronger and more insistent than Mana. Worse still, Harumi carried a sword and Haumea-knew-what-else with her. Cagalli had no option to refuse as Harumi pushed her headlong into the process of trying on the kimono. Her pants were going next, and Cagalli's efforts to hide did nobody any real good.

"Harumi," Cagalli protested, trying to move away from, "I can do it myself-,"

Harumi took a step back, observing her. "Alright."

Cagalli turned red. "Er- with you watching?"

"We're both women." Harumi said calmly. "Why would you feel embarrassed?"

Cagalli began to say something, then shut her mouth, turning even an even more intense shade of cooked lobster if that was even possible. Slowly, she turned to a wall, pulling down her pants and stepping out of those. Then awkwardly, she turned to face Harumi.

While Cagalli was left standing in her underwear and feeling very insecure, Harumi looked at her appreciatively.

Cagalli fought the urge to cover herself with her arms, but Harumi smiled knowingly. "I'm sure he's told you that you are very beautiful."

"What made you think so?" Cagalli laughed. "Are you kidding me ? Ko's only got one mother in his mind-,"

"No, you misunderstand me." Harumi interrupted her quietly. "I meant Athrun Zala."

Cagalli fell silent.

Harumi's smile was teasing and secretive, and her eyes were very intelligent. Naturally, Cagalli knew that Harumi's appearance must have deceived many more than once. Beneath that polished, cultured image, Harumi was very sharp and as observant as Ezalia Joule. Both women must have gotten along for all the right reasons and for all the same qualities they'd found in each other.

"Raise your arms." Harumi commanded.

As Harumi tied the knots expertly and with a gentleness that Cagalli was surprised by, Cagalli realized that Harumi's hands had the similar calluses that Ko's had from training.

"Did you go through the training that Ko goes through now?" Cagalli asked slowly, holding her arms out as Harumi adjusted the obi. Harumi nodded, tucking cloth here and there.

"As a child. It's important to start young."

Cagalli could find nothing to say in response to Harumi. But she knew she'd heard that note of sadness in Harumi's voice, and she knew that Harumi had not wanted Ko to go through this either. As Harumi put the final touches on the robe, Cagalli lowered her arms and felt Harumi turning her to look at the mirror.

The gift was a glowing shade on her skin and Cagalli widened her eyes, her lips curving because of her surprise. The maple shades of the silk seemed to be that perfect combination of rust and gold and the glimmer of it was very flattering. Harumi had chosen well, and Cagalli was neither overwhelmed nor forgettable in this outfit.

Harumi smiled, noting her appreciation. "I knew you'd like it. It was one of my very own and a favourite at one time. I'm entrusting it to you now."

Cagalli moved to pick up the kimono sleeve, looking at herself in the mirror and admiring its embroidery and the way the patterns of trees and branches seemed almost like pale, silvery shadows on its amber background. The swinging sleeves added a grace that Cagalli had never noticed, and she saw Harumi nod in satisfaction behind her.

She turned to Harumi. "But- why?"

"Because of Ko." Harumi answered firmly. "You've taken good care of him, and I want to thank you for that." A small smile crept to her lips. "Although you could say that I'm still being selfish- he used to say that this looked nice on me. If you wear it, maybe he'll think of me."

And suddenly, Cagalli understood that Harumi thought more of her child than what she could bear, and that Harumi had never wanted to leave her son and live apart from him. When Harumi had commented on Ko's skill rather than Ko after meeting him, Cagalli had been stunned. But Cagalli had not realized that Harumi had been making a deliberate attempt to numb herself.

"Harumi," Cagalli said pleadingly. "He needs to be with you. You can't leave him like this at this age."

"He won't be safe if I let him stay with me." Harumi said firmly. "The underground societies are not places for children who don't know how to protect themselves. And even when he knows how to now, I won't let him live there. He could be harmed at any moment, because plenty would want to use him as a trump card against me."

"But here, he's alone for most of the time," Cagalli begged. "When I leave, what's going to happen? Will he keep training like a machine with the twins and Epstein? Is this place the right one for a child?"

"At least he will not be killed," Harumi said, her voice faltering. "At least he'll be safe here. I won't allow anyone to hurt him, even if I have to die for it. If he must be here to be safe, I want him to stay here. Estragon was very kind- and that's why I will never let him down." Her eyes flew to Cagalli. "Look after both of them for me, Cagalli."

Cagalli stared at her, and despite all she knew and did not know about Harumi, Cagalli knew that Harumi would never willingly hurt her son or disrupt his childhood if it hadn't concerned his survival.

She flew into Harumi's arms, stunning the cold, composed elder woman.

Then Harumi hugged her back, and they remained like that for some time, with Harumi's tears hidden from the rest of the world.

* * *

In that same hour, Shinn had returned to Orb.

At present he held up a letter, passing it over to Kira as they all sat in Cagalli's office. "This was faxed to your office in Zaft. I went there as you instructed me too- to check your mail and that kind of stuff."

Kira knew. He had requested Yzak Joule to give Shinn clearance as Shinn would be helping him bring over some things to Orb.

"I hid it from Lacus and Meyrin." Shinn added. "I told them I was going to meet you in Orb and that you thought it was better if they stayed there."

"Right." Kira nodded. "What else did you find when you were there, helping me take things over here?"

"Nothing else." Shinn said directly. "Yzak Joule let me in, and then I went to the fax machine to check if anything was stored there. I found this."

What he did not tell Kira was that Athrun was aware that Shinn went to Kira's office in Aprilius quite regularly to clear things up. Athrun had asked about Shinn's next visit to the office in Aprilius, and had given him specific instructions.

The paper was a bit crumpled and Kira knew that it would be impossible to get any leads on those who had sent this. It had been faxed over, as Shinn had said, and if there had been anything to trace the address, Yzak would probably have erased it by now.

Kira didn't believe a single thing that Shinn was telling him about someone being able to hack into the system and send something that Shinn had coincidently been there to see and collect. In his mind, Kira was pretty sure that Yzak Joule was behind this. Yzak Joule must have used a Zaft-barrack fax machine to send something that Athrun Zala had wanted Kira to see.

And then Yzak Joule had gotten into Kira's office while letting Shinn in, and found a way to distract Shinn while deleting the address. No unknown address could have sent anything to Kira's machine- it was technically impossible unless something had been hacked. But there was a far simpler way to do things- by using insiders.

Studying it with a frown that seemed to have become a permanent fixture between his eyes, Kira looked at Shinn. "Was this why you insisted that you come back to Orb immediately?"

"Yes." Shinn said firmly. "This letter was faxed by an unknown address and I thought you needed to see it. I'm sorry to have made you think that something had happened to Lacus and Leon, but I couldn't tell you why I wanted to return to Orb immediately to talk to you."

"Why?" Aaron demanded. He stared at Shinn, trying to read his face, but Shinn remained impassive if slightly agitated by what was understandably his panic.

"I was afraid the phones in your office were bugged or something," Shinn muttered. "I mean," His eyes widened, "If your fax could be hacked into despite you blocking all the unknown addresses, then clearly-," He trailed off, shaking his head. "I was a bit panicky, I guess."

It was much simpler than that, although Shinn was not going to say it. Yzak Joule had faxed the letter that Athrun gave him to Kira's office. Shinn had been instructed by Kira to pick it up and send it to Orb. Athrun hadn't even needed to hack anything- he'd merely relied on Yzak and Shinn. Subsequently, Yzak had deleted the known address that Kira's fax machine had stored, and had calmly locked the office and waved goodbye to Shinn, who'd set off for Orb after making a call to Kira.

"Won't it be kinda obvious Yzak Joule and I are in this?" Shinn had asked weakly.

"Don't worry," Athrun had told him. "He never threatens the sources of information because he knows you're not the goldmine he needs."

"Should I try and cover who might be sending this letter?"

"No," Shinn remembered Athrun telling him. "I want him to suspect who's sending this anyway. He'd be an idiot if he didn't know it was me by this time."

Kira stood up, reading its contents once more. The seal was there again, making it the third time he'd seen it on any piece of paper. This time though, the letter had been typewritten, and it was impossible to know if it was truly Cagalli who'd written this note or someone else.

He turned to look at Shinn, not really sure what to think. He did not trust Yzak Joule, who was most certainly keeping in contact with Athrun Zala, but Kira wasn't quite sure about Shinn. Shinn may or may not have been in contact with Athrun, Kira suspected. And while he didn't have a single bit of proof to support that hunch, Kira knew that was the most likely possibility here. How else would Shinn have been at the right place at the right time to receive a letter that was clearly not meant for any one else's eyes in Zaft?

And Yzak Joule had swallowed the idea of letting Shinn clear the security checks to enter Kira's office to 'clear the mail and that sort of thing' quite readily. Surely, Yzak was stricter than that?

Shinn was looking at him concernedly. "What's the matter, Kira?"

Kira turned to Aaron. "Shut the doors. I don't want Marlin to hear of this letter from Cagalli and to rush off to Sweden by himself."

Aaron hurried to the doors, locking those.

And as he did, Kira made his decision. There was no time to waste because Cagalli's life was already in danger. Like all the other letters, he could not simply not take heed of this one, and he had to act now. It didn't matter who was keeping in contact with Athrun Zala, Kira thought firmly to himself. The point was that Athrun was sending him a message, and he had no choice but to trust him now.

"Kira," Shinn protested, wondering what the significance of the letter with the intricate-looking symbol had been. "What makes you think this is from Cagalli? And why can't you speak with the Britannian Premier around?"

Aaron locked the door securely.

Kira turned to his desk, and pulled a pocket mirror and the real seal out. He looked at the letter, held it up, and put the mirror to it. As Shinn stared at the name that appeared on the mark of the seal on the letter, Kira watched his face carefully. "We can talk now."

* * *

10 days.


	26. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 25

* * *

The winter sun was not strong, and it was a good thing, for Cagalli would have had to squint. However, she was facing the windows, perched on a chair, and she was cleaning the windows. Her expression was reflected in the window, and within that disconcerting moment, she realized that it was a familiar expression. That of a slightly unwilling spirit but that of a forced satisfaction.

Nevertheless, she set to what she'd taken on with the efficiency of a workhorse and the vigor of one who seemed truly interested in the task at hand.

"Miss Cagalli, you should leave this to us." Laplacia was calling out, some distance below Cagalli.

"Oh, don't be a worrywart." Cagalli said brightly. "Why don't both of you go and finish the rest of the housework? I can manage just fine here. Go play with Ko or something."

Cartesia and Laplacia were watching her, but Cagalli ignored them both. As she washed the windows, scrubbing harder than she needed to, Cagalli glanced reassuringly at them. Both the twins' faces were scrunched in worry, and she felt a little sorry that they had become a bit insecure with her insistence that she help out. Surely, they must have felt that she was trying to take over their jobs or that they were being irresponsible by letting her do the manual labour.

"You don't need to worry, you know." Cagalli said smilingly. "I'm not really letting both of you slack. It's just that I thought I'd like to do a little around the house too. You might call it boredom put to good use."

"But you've been training all morning with Epstein," Cartesia said plaintively. "Aren't you tired? Shouldn't you take a rest?"

She shook her head, her grin becoming a bit forced. The morning's training had been particularly strenuous, with hand-to-hand combat first, then shooting next. Epstein was very good at what he'd learned, and she had found herself being tripped and basically being thrashed by him. Still, she'd had a good workout, and that had kept her thoughts at bay for a while. "No. I want to do this."

They were perhaps not aware that Cagalli had a habit of finding work to do when she was troubled. For that matter, Cagalli wasn't that aware of it herself. It just seemed that there was so much to do around the house suddenly. There were floors to scrub and re-scrub, windows to wipe and then wipe a little more- and there were so many things she did not want to have to consider.

As Cagalli tiptoed carefully on the chair to get at the highest window, the twins seemed to grow even more anxious. Yet, she waved away their concern, feeling a little more insistent now.

"Mr. Estragon's coming back this evening." Cartesia said after a pause. Beside her, Laplacia nodded as well. From where she stood, Cagalli noticed they resembled tiny sprites- pale and incandescent with their hair color and milky skin. If she had noticed how unusual they'd looked before, in the morning light, they looked even more different than the average person.

"He will probably be back soon." Laplacia added. "He's been gone for some time already, right? And he will probably want dinner. What would you like to have, Miss Cagalli?"

"Anything's fine by me, really." She said gently. They exchanged silent conversations with their glances, and she knew what the twins were thinking. She hadn't been eating well, and nothing they made would change her lack of appetite. While Cagalli had helped to whip up a simply scrumptious meal for lunch, one that had made Epstein and Ko start raving, she hadn't been able to take more than a few bites.

"Would you like to rest and paint a little more in the gardens?" Cartesia asked hesitantly. "Before Mr. Estragon comes back?"

Cagalli looked over her shoulder, but said nothing. What they had not verbalized was clear however. He would want to meet her, and Cagalli ought not to have been here, getting herself flustered and working over the floors and windows.

"No. I'd rather stay here." Cagalli said finally. Her voice was very even and it sounded neutral, possibly because her face was turned to the window and her arms were still hard at work. "I'm not so keen on painting much," She told them apologetically. "I think I ran out of things to paint. But not wash, apparently."

They returned her smile a bit unwillingly.

"I have a few more hours left. I suppose the other wing will require some cleaning too." Cagalli continued to ignore their rather obvious worry towards what she was doing. Surely, Epstein must have told the twins that she would not be here for very long more. Right now, Cagalli hadn't mustered the strength to tell the same to Ko.

Instead, she stepped down from the chair, looking at her handiwork. The windows were all gleaming, and her arms were aching, but Cagalli was glad for the exhaustion that was creeping into her.

"Miss Cagalli," Laplacia sounded even more timid than usual. "You've already mopped and swabbed all the floors of the West Wing."

"Not the windows," Cagalli said with more cheer than she really felt. The washing liquid foamed and hissed in her hands, and she was aware that the skin of her fingers were peeling and curling up. It did not hurt her though. Nothing would hurt her more than thinking of how the days were slipping past her.

As she took the pail, water and scrub, the twins tried to prevent her from doing so. But Cagalli ignored them and began to march down a corridor. They did not follow, only staring worriedly at her back.

She liked this, Cagalli decided.

She liked not having to think.

* * *

There were rosary beads in his hand, like black moles strung together and pressed tight like individual curses on the flesh. A small cross glinted in the light, but it was chipped and it made the rosary look aged and overused.

That was the first thing that Athrun noticed as he stepped into the room. The light had been dimmed, and the coffin was still empty, but Greyfriars was kneeling there, bowing his head before it.

Greyfriars was on his knees, praying. To whom, Athrun was not so sure, because Greyfriars had once told him that he had never believed in God. But of what Greyfriars was praying about, Athrun knew. Today was the anniversary of Greyfriars' wife and children's deaths.

The bouquets of red clovers were everywhere, and Athrun looked at those wistfully. As the national flowers of Denmark, Greyfriars loved those. He'd even given some to Athrun, and Athrun had passed those to Ko, who'd planted them eagerly. But those red clovers and the ideals that Greyfriars had fought for had eventually cost his family their lives.

As Athrun stepped in and closed the door, Greyfriars got up heavily and moved towards him. Without a word, they sat down at the usual chairs and tables and Greyfriars poured out some tea.

The air might have held some normalcy, except that Athrun knew there was nothing normal about this place. Greyfriars seemed fine, but he was not, and Athrun knew that the façade of sophistication belied a man who cared only for revenge now.

The tea was steaming between them, and Athrun wondered how long more they would have to continue this charade.

"Do you think I should have continued to lead the Danish to protest?" Greyfriars asked quietly. He looked at the red clovers, frowning a little.

Athrun shook his head. "I don't know."

There had been plenty of Danish who had frequently protested against their lack of independence. The Scandinavian Internal Security agents had often used reasons of protecting Scandinavia's internal security to round them up and have them prosecuted. Each one would face the death penalty without fail- their trials were for show when they were sent to Sweden and put in court. They'd started off peacefully, as most protests often went. Eventually. quite a few had turned to violence.

As a result of the show trials, the leader of the terrorists had resorted to more drastic ways of trying to demand for independence, still believing that once Denmark had independence, the protests and the show trials and the need for prosecution would be gone.

That had only led to more news being covered up in Scandinavia and more show trials for the Danish that the Internal Security agents got their hands on. In so many ways, Greyfriars had spurred the protests to its heights and given Pietre Harraldsson the cover and reasons that he needed to continue sentencing those he despised to their deaths.

"Maybe your wife and children would have lived if you hadn't taken charge and led the protesters." Athrun admitted. "As would have so many men who joined in the resistance against Scandinavia's inclusion of Denmark and Sweden's poor management of your country."

Athrun knew though, that even if Greyfriars and so many others hadn't fought for independence, they would have still been rounded up under another cover and been sent to Sweden for some crime they had not really committed. They would still have been handed the death sentence along with their families even if there was no solid proof of some crime they would have been accused of.

After all, there were some in the world who would never approve of Coordinators having relationships with Naturals, let alone starting a family with children that were of that mixed blood.

"I suppose," Athrun told him, "We don't really know if continuing to protest was better than not continuing."

Greyfriars got up and left the table. Kneeling before the empty coffin again, he closed his eyes. Athrun came to him, standing besides him and watching the man.

"I don't know either. But that's why Denmark must have independence." Greyfriars murmured quietly under his breath. Athrun watched him carefully. "We've sacrificed so much that we can't turn back now."

What Greyfriars didn't know was that the Danish protesters and terrorists were not being prosecuted and put through show trials per say. Plenty of those who were rounded up and prosecuted were of mixed heritage or Coordinators, even if they were first and foremost, Danish protesters or even terrorists. Even if these men had not been protesters or terrorists, the internal security agents would find plenty of other things to incriminate them for. The irony was that many of these protesters had given a cover that the agents could use without having to accuse them of other crimes.

Many of those facing prosecution had been Danish protesters or terrorists, although Greyfriars had not realized that they were not being targeted merely for that reason.

And for that, Greyfriars had never really realized the real reason why the internal security agents were so bent on wiping them out.

Greyfriars looked at him at this point. "I must thank you for your help. If you hadn't used your contacts to round us up and bring us to this place, many of our Danish comrades would not have survived."

"No, don't thank me." Athrun said dully. The Danish protesters had not been the only ones brought here, and the people bringing them here were certainly not business contacts either.

Moreover, Greyfriars was completely unaware that Plant's Secret Intelligence Council had used their long-time intelligencers to round up the Coordinators and Halfs in Denmark. Those could not be left in Scandinavia, where their eradication was a matter of time and opportunities that the Swedish internal security agents would allow.

Even now, when Athrun sipped his tea, he knew that Greyfriars still believed that Rune Estragon was a businessman who'd come here with the first few Coordinators to avoid the conflict before the First War.

Similarly, Greyfriars was not aware of what Pieter Harraldsson was really planning. In fact, Greyfriars didn't even know what Pieter Harraldsson had done for so many years.

Thankfully, Athrun thought, Erik Strumsson had caught onto his brother-in-law's plans fast enough. He'd escaped an untimely death through a very carefully-planned assassination that had never quite worked out seven years ago. As the Crown Prince's head bodyguard and trusted confidante, the First Eye, Sanders Gargery, had been who was instructed to kill the Crown Princess' Coordinator husband. Instead, Erisk Strumsson had been brought to the Isle, where he'd realised that the place could be a refuge. He'd met with the Eyes, then begged Plant to provide an asylum for the Coordinators and Halfs.

By more than coincidence, that had included the Danish terrorists. The whole lot of them had been transferred to the Isle, since it was mostly Denmark who'd continue to face the most of this women and children of Denmark who were either of mixed parentage or in mixed marriages were the next to be brought over. Those would be sent over to the Plants once they'd received medical treatment and Plant had arranged for them to go over. The men had been next.

Because Pietre Harraldsson had been very careful about targeting only the Danish terrorists first, the Eyes had been successful in shipping the refugees to the Plants. If they'd had to look out for the Swedish and Norwegian Halfs and Coordinators too, the Plants would have been unable to hold up with all the new refugees.

Of those who made it to the Plants, few were men. Many, if not all the men had joined Greyfriars. Like him, they'd believed that their persecution was because of their political ideals. They were not told otherwise by anyone, and until this day, they had continued to believe that. Plant simply did not want an extra, particularly dangerous party coming into the picture and getting in the way of operations. The Secret Intelligence Council had toyed with the idea of bringing the male refugees to the Plants too, rather than let them continue being on the Isle where they could find out what was really going on and interfere.

Of course, Plant wasn't keen to let the Danish terrorists go over either. Plenty of these men had become quite unstable from what they'd been though. But Plant need not have worried. The Danish terrorists had stayed behind, glad to have a secret place to use as their base for launching their attacks against the Swedish Heads.

So the Intelligence Council decided that letting the terrorists stay on the Isle would be fine so long as they kept to themselves and were not aware of the Eyes, the Numbers, and Plant's hand in this at any point. The refugees who'd stayed behind had been brought to an un-numbered Isle.

Greyfriars had been more than happy to stay behind with his followers. While he knew that the Crown Princess' husband was seeking refuge as well, he left Erik Strumsson alone. Erik Strumsson had always been sympathetic towards Denmark in the past, and for that, Greyfriars would not harm him. It had been Erik who'd convinced Greyfriars to take all his men and move to another portion of the Isle, where they could mourn in peace for those loved ones who'd lost their lives.

But eventually, Greyfriars had done more than mourn.

In fact, Athrun reflected, nothing would make Greyfriars leave Scandinavia as long as Denmark didn't get its independence.

While taking refuge, Greyfriars had made his plans for a final push.

Someone had to be a sacrifice- someone powerful and significant- someone who the world had its eyes on. It had to be someone who would cause inquiries to be made to the point that the Sweden's cruelty towards Denmark's plight would be in the open, along with the terrorists' existences that had been hushed up until that point.

Those plans had involved Cagalli Yula Atha, and Plant had become aware of those.

They'd known it would be some time before those were carried out, and they'd saved the information, being very quiet about it. Finally, they'd requested Athrun to extend his contract when his three years had been up. Eventually, Athrun Zala into the picture through Lyra Delphius, and he'd lived his double life for nearly four years now.

In the meantime, Rune Estragon, the Fifth Eye, continued receiving the shipments.

Over the past four years, the refugees who were of Coordinator descent or Coordinators, had been sent over to the Fifth Isle. From there, they would be then brought to the Plants. They always came as batches- a small but steady stream that never aroused too much attention, but left Scandinavia to a place where they'd be safer.

Although the Eyes had instructed Athrun to let them camp in the remote hill areas, Athrun had never allowed that.

For all his growing bitterness at choosing to stay on with an extended contract, Athrun couldn't let the refugees freeze in the cold outside. He'd taken them in and given them certain rooms within an entire wing to use in his stronghold. They would be sheltered until it was time for them to leave for the Plants.

That had continued for each subsequent batch, even when Cagalli had been brought to the Fifth Isle. She'd been unable to unlock certain rooms and she had been prohibited from entering certain portions of the place, including a whole wing.

The first shipment of refugees that Leopold Wasser and Orlick Churchill had rounded up had been about twenty shivering scraps of children and a few rather battered, tired women who'd been on the run for a long time. Many were badly injured at the hands of the internal security agents too, and plenty of them could not find jobs on the streets because they were shunned. It was a matter of time before the agents caught up to them and took them off for interrogation too.

Both Eyes were traveling businessmen to the rest of the world. One was involved in international delivery services and the other was in charge of a very large job-finding agency that functioned mostly underground. It was the perfect cover. Orlick Churchill would meet desperate, hungry people who were the poorest and the most despised in Sweden, and after probing, he would identify those as the Danish families who'd gone to Sweden and were hoping to hear of news of their fathers or husbands. They wanted jobs, and he would offer them jobs in Plant. They would be shipped off by Leopold Wasser, who ran both air freights and ships. Those of course, had been equipped with the same technology that Nicol Amalfi's mobile weapon had been equipped with all those years ago.

But amongst the first batch of refugees, Athrun had found nobody willing to look after two young girls. The rest of the children had their mothers even if they did not have their fathers. The two girls were very young, with light coloured hair and eyes. The elder had attacked him viciously when Athrun had tried to bandage her wounds, and the younger had tried to run. Leopold had been quite impressed at how defensive they were.

They didn't seem to have anyone they'd come along with- no mother and no relative. He'd asked around, but all the Eyes could find out was that their guardian had stayed behind in Denmark instead of getting aboard the ship with them.

As a result, Athrun had been asked to take and train them as his second and third aide.

The twins, Athrun believed, were Halfs too. He had never asked for checks on their genetic makeup, but he believed that they were not pure Coordinators or Naturals. After all, they'd been rounded up as part of the women and children refugees and sent to his Isle.

The only difference was that they would not ever make it to the Plants.

"For some time now," Greyfriars asked, interrupting the silence that had gone on for some time. He was still kneeling at Athrun's side, but now he turned to look at his right-hand man. "I've been wondering how you could get the Danish women and children refugees to the Plants. Aren't their immigration checks quite stringent?"

"It is true that Plant doesn't just accept anyone in there," Athrun told him, hiding the lie between truths quite smoothly. "It's just that having the right contacts gets you anywhere."

"I see." Greyfriars said slowly.

Athrun remained quiet, thinking of all he'd been doing as part of his duties for the past few years.

While Plant had considered denouncing Scandinavia openly- in particular, Sweden, for persecuting anyone with Coordinator ties. However, it couldn't declare war on Scandinavia because it would mean risking Plant's still-recovering economy.

Plant's Intelligence Council also couldn't let the Halves die. It decided to have them rounded up, sent to the Isle first as a waiting ground, then sent them to the Plants quietly.

The Sarasponde was near the Cliffside of the Fifth Isle. That was the shuttle grounds where Epstein could send the women and children to the Plants with his piloting skills and his small ship. And that had been exactly why Athrun had insisted on removing Lyra from that area. While the Sarasponde was also equipped with the rather useful camouflage-technology that Nicol Amalfi's unit had, the sound of a large vehicle taking off could not be made invisible.

The Eyes had been given very specific instructions.

On no account where they to let the first Isle-dwellers know that there were more people coming onto the Isle and being sent off to the Plants. If they knew, all those original Coordinators would demand to go to the Plants too. Plant's Intelligence Council though, certainly would not need lawbreakers and criminals joining them- even if they did take pity on the Halfs and wanted to provide for them.

Athrun had wondered whether others had a right to judge the first Isle-dwellers and the second group of refugee-seekers the way they had. He had grappled with his own conscience, wondering if guarding the first group was wrong. He had also wondered whether allowing the second to go to the Plants when the first group had innocent people amongst them who had to stay on the Isle reeked of double standards. It was too difficult to divide the right from the wrong and the innocent from the guilty. It was far too problematic to try to.

Of course, Athrun thought wearily, all this would not matter any more. Neither did his past anger, his past thoughts of revenge, his bitterness or his need to clear his name and his father's. Nor did what his employers had promised him. Neither Cagalli's acts of betraying him, nor her acts of going against her ideals mattered to him. All that wasn't part of what he wanted to be concerned with.

As Greyfriars continued to pray, Athrun said his own prayer.

All he wanted was to ensure that Kira would get there in time, and all he cared about was that Cagalli would return to Orb safely.

* * *

In his office, Yzak was facing the worst temper he'd ever broken out into since he had graduated as the _second_ best student in the Zaft academy for officers. While his office was soundproofed, there was actually quite a real risk that someone would hear what he was saying, for his rage was making him speak louder than necessary, and his shoulders were squared in his anger.

"I can't believe you're actually having a relationship with her! How dare you? I trusted you to do your job, and I warned you time and time again that you had to be very careful with her! And now this? What was going through your head?"

Athrun did not sounded particularly guilty. "Sorry, Seven."

"You're not sorry at all!" Yzak was enraged. "Were you even heeding my advice when I told you not to get too close with her?"

There was a silence on the other line, and Yzak felt his blood pressure rise. For years now, he had been working in the Secret Intelligence Council of Zaft and Plant's Supreme Council. Athrun Zala was a responsibility he'd taken upon himself by insisting to the other members that the person he was recommending could get the job done well.

It was supposed to be fairly straightforward by the usual intelligencer standards.

Athrun Zala, alias Rune Estragon, was to extend his contract indefinitely. His duties included leading the double life as a trusted person within the Danish terrorists' circles to trace their plans, and to continue his duties as an Eye for the original Isle-dwellers.

Later, his instructions had included meeting the Orb Princess, being in charge of convincing her to go to a safe place away from the SS Rafael's conflict, and to bring her to the Isle. At that time, the Numbers had yet to decide what to do with her upon bringing her to the Isle, for it would have really depended on what Orb did and how Scandinavia would respond.

Yet, Athrun Zala had not been unable to convince Cagalli Yula Atha to give her permission and leave the SS Rafael that night. Quite infuriatingly and quite conversely, he had taken her to the Isle against her will and in a puddle of blood. While her injuries were self-inflicted wounds, there were more serious problems.

The night after she'd disappeared, the Orb government had immediately declared a state of emergency as it had no more Orb Head to lead them out of the mess of foreign relations. The one problem with Cagalli Yula Atha was that she was too dependable- too reliable, too absolutely necessary. Nobody could have stepped up to take her place from within Orb without being questioned and accused of being an instigator in her mysterious disappearance.

Nor had Sweden done anything to help the situation.

The most they'd done was to increase the suspicions that the Swedish Royals had captured her. The Scandinavian region was entirely sealed off to Orb right after Cagalli Yula Atha's vanishing, and Sweden had insisted on doing its own investigations.

Angered, Orb had went to the Galactic Courts, while Sweden had insisted that Orb could not enter. The courts had considered Orb's plea and Sweden's request to handle the situation, and it had eventually ruled that six months were the period that Sweden would have to find the Orb Princess and account for her disappearance. Failing that, Orb would have the permission to enter Sweden and the whole of Scandinavia to conduct its own investigations.

While the Numbers had pondered what to do over the injured Orb Princess who had been recuperating at the Fifth Isle, the tensions between Orb and the Earth Alliance grew stronger, since the Earth Alliance was highly protective of its territory. If Plant had chosen to produce the Orb Princess, they would have had to explain why their intelligencer had been aboard the SS Rafael, and that would have meant giving away the secret of all the Isle-dwellers. The Numbers had been rather unwilling to do this.

Moreover, there was no telling what the Orb Princess would do upon returning to Orb if the Numbers let her go immediately after her recovery and before the six months were up. At that time, the Numbers had thought that she would probably order an investigation of the place she'd been held in. That would mean that the Galactic Courts would probably ask the Swedish Heads to submit their investigation reports.

Scandinavia would have then discovered the region they'd forgotten since past centuries, and there were the people that the Numbers had to protect living there still.

Of course, Yzak realised, even when they were about to let her go after six months, Orb was still going to want Scandinavia to explain where she'd been. The Isle could still be found if Scandinavia was obliged to comb its entire Plant had decided to keep her there for six months- the full period when it was safe for her to be there and when Orb had promised not to attack Scandinavia.

Six months was quite a bit of time. It would give the Eyes time to transport the Isle-dwellers away. Those Halfs and even the original Coordinators who were willing could leave the region. They'd be brought to either the Plants or some other Earth Alliance area if they wished, and their identities would be protected.

Up to this point, the Secret Intelligence Council's plans had gone quite well. While very few of the original Coordinators had agreed to leave the Isle because they had come to enjoy their enclosed lives so entirely, all the Halfs had left. That had been what the Numbers had expected.

But this!

Yzak hadn't expected this, even though he had suspected that it might happen.

He hadn't thought that Athrun would be so foolish as to give up the carrot that he'd been motivated by for so long. Yzak's fists curled.

The Numbers were some of the most powerful members of Zaft, the Supreme Council, and the Plant Cabinet. They had looked at the individual case of Athrun Zala and promised him a new identity and the reassurance that he would never have to serve the Plants or Zaft again as long as he completed his duty well.

So far, Yzak had been helping Athrun whenever the latter made little slips. Thanks to Yzak, Athrun had gotten away with bringing an injured princess to the Isle. Yzak had even covered up for how Athrun had nearly let her get killed by some madman, and how Athrun had brought her out of the manor and actually let her meet those Coordinators protected by the Eyes. He had kept that away from the rest of the Numbers, in hopes that Athrun would get what he wanted when he'd agreed to work on the Isle.

But now, Yzak was seriously doubting whether Athrun was sane or whether he knew what he really wanted.

By getting close to Cagalli Yula Atha, there was no doubt the advantage that Athrun would be able to convince her to stay. But Athrun had gotten this close to the captive, and if she returned and that was found out, Athrun would not be able to excuse his conduct as part of his duty.

Ethically, there was no justification for it, let alone legally in the eyes of Plant, Zaft and certainly not the Galactic Courts.

Yzak slammed his fist on the table, thoroughly upset by Athrun's silence. "How did things land up this way? I have solid evidence and testimony now that you've gotten close to her. Even if I order Miles Summon not to say anything, do you actually think that nobody will know and that nobody will ever find out? You are too close to her!"

Athrun did not say anything, but that made Yzak angrier.

"And don't tell me you have no idea what the definition of too close is." He seethed. "You've slept with the captive, haven't you?"

"Yes." Athrun told him quietly. "But she's not the captive. Cagalli's not."

Yzak felt his blood boiling. "Y-You-,"

"I'm not going to let her become some pawn for intergalactic peace and all the things Plant was planning for." Athrun said swiftly. "I don't care about that anymore. Not when I decided to have a relationship with her."

"You don't even care that the integrity and motivation for the Numbers and the Eyes' acts would be questioned?" Yzak demanded."Or even your own and by extension, your father's?"

"I'm sorry." Athrun answered firmly. "I did care at one point. But I cannot care more for it when she is more important to me."

Yzak was so close to blowing that he could almost hear something ticking in the distance. Of course, it was the clock in the corner of his office, but it did feel like the bomb within him. In any case, he tried to breathe deeply and asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know." Athrun said, realising he was being more honest than he'd meant to be. "Frankly, I don't plan to let anyone know we had a relationship."

"Then why have it at all?" Yzak questioned savagely. "If you have to keep it a secret when you're with someone, then you shouldn't be with the person at all."

"I thought so in the past. I thought more of what I was promised too." Athrun said tranquilly.

His tone was so sad and peacefully that Yzak wondered if he'd really lost it. Had this former child prodigy become some nutcase who'd tried crack at one point or another? Or had something happened to Athrun Zala that Yzak had missed?

Athrun seemed to become more assured with what he was saying, which put Yzak in a rather nervy state. "But then I decided that having a few months with her and loving her would be good enough. Cagalli belongs to me- not some invisible organization like the Numbers or even for Orb."

Yzak roared in his frustration and anguish. "So you mean you had your own plans all this while, Athrun Zala?"

"Yes." The lack of hesitation made Yzak even more angry.

"You mean nothing mattered except your relationship with her, never mind that your head will roll if and once the truth comes out?"

"Yes." Again, Athrun showed no hesitation. "I'm sorry, Yzak."

"We ordered you to keep her safe, and I told you that you had to lock her in your manor for all that time and not let her discover anything else." Yzak fretted. He was standing in front of the voice modulator, but at the same time, he began to pace on the spot, doing something like a funny shuffle. He was so vexed, he wondered if his hair would turn whiter than it already was.

"But you went this far with her! I can only hope neither of you breathe a word in the courts that you had a relationship during this time or in the past! Have you forgotten that you, under our instructions, were to get close to the terrorists and to find out what their motivations were? You're not exactly gaining their trust by refusing to hand her over, and worse still, you've given them a reason to suspect that you want to keep her for yourself!"

"They don't know we're in a relationship either." Athrun retorted.

"But often, smoke arises simply because there is a fire!"

"I will handle it." Athrun sounded rather adamant. "I am prepared."

"What do you want me to say when the Galactic Courts make their inquiries?" Yzak demanded. "Wait- we don't even have to think that far. What do you want me to say to the Supreme Council of Plant when the Secret Intelligence Council gives the report of what our intelligencers have been doing? We can give you a lawful excuse for having her chained up and even the fact that you brought her to the Isle without her consent. But this? You slept with her- that is a fact. That is insubordination to our rightful cause because it invites attacks from Orb, the Earth Alliance, Scandinavia and definitely the Galactic Courts! I don't think you can deny that, no matter how you may try and twist this around to argue that."

"This was a choice that she and I made." Athrun's voice was very determined. "It isn't anyone else's business."

Yzak laughed cynically. "So you want to argue that it was consensual now? Don't be naïve, Zala! You know it was never about consent. You might as well have forced yourself on her- it would make no difference in the eyes on the Galatic Court, let alone to the first authority you answer to! Plant and Zaft's instructions were very specific. The point is that you were not supposed to have any relations with the captive."

"How could I not grow close to her?" Athrun was the one demanding now. "Even if I cut off all thoughts of the past, I was her caregiver. I was the one who had to visit when she started becoming violent and self-destructive. Are you seriously telling me that I could have avoided any kind of relations with her?"

"I am telling you that you could have avoided _this _relationship with her! The sort that you are currently indulging in!" Yzak roared.

"I don't need you to defend me in the inquiries where this is concerned." Athrun said tensely. "I will tell the truth and say that we made individual choices regardless of our obligations and duties."

"Don't be an idiot, Zala! There is no way you could possibly claim that even if it was true. Do you actually think that anyone would believe you? Face what you've done and think about it," Yzak said fiercely, "If the fact gets out in court that you have feelings for her, let alone were sleeping with her, it will never go in Plant's favor."

"I know." Athrun muttered.

"I can imagine the prosecutors already. They will probably say that Plant's intelligencers made use of an emotionally-vulnerable, slightly disorientated captive. They kept her staying where she was placed, and the proof of that is how she could have escaped but did not, and how she was even made to write letters that worked in Plant's favor." Yzak was pacing properly now, and it was a frantic march that made him wonder why he did not seem to become calmer.

"The immunity from questioning that you obtained for us will definitely be taken back, but I'm not so worried about that. I have never expected that to be a golden ticket into and out of courts. I'm more worried about how the letter you sent was a controlled opportunity for Plant to enter into Orb and Scandinavia's relations as a supposed neutral and supposed impartial mediator! Imagine what kind of accusations the prosecutors would be hurling against Plant!"

Athrun had not said a word.

"And they could easily find proof along with the fact that you've been conducting an intimate relationship with the captive. This could be so easily made an accusation that we wanted Orb to attack Scandinavia right from the start! The fact that you were there and acting on Plant's orders to bring her to a supposedly safe place would work well in favor of that accusation!"

When Athrun spoke again, Yzak heard desperation in his voice. "I know. I know all that. If the courts accuse Plant of instructing their intelligencer to use the Orb Princess to their interests, I am prepared to deny that there were such instructions. At least all the fault would fall on me."

"Don't tell me that," Yzak said angrily, feeling guilt worm at him. Had he really thought that Cagalli Yula Atha would not feel anything more for Athrun Zala and vice versa? How had he ended up convincing himself that Athrun was better off meeting this woman again and having a closure to the lost chances of the past? How had Yzak convinced himself that Athrun would not try and chase it all again?

Yzak knew he had been either drunk, overly optimistic or just plain deluded. He decided it was a mix of all three. "I put you in there because you promised that you could help it. I gave you the chance to hold onto her instead of sending her to another isle under another intelligencer because you promised there was nothing between you."

"Our relationship hasn't affected anything," Athrun said softly, and Yzak was half-triumphant and half-horrified to hear a note of pleading in his subordinate's voice.

"You think so? You really think so? Maybe it seems that way, but you knew from the start that getting too close to her would prevent you from exercising the right judgment you needed for your job. More than that, there is concrete proof that your relationship with her has affected the way Plant would have carried out its operations, and that the relationship you have with her gave us certain advantages. We convinced the Earth Alliance on behalf of Scandinavia and Orb that we were the right people to be the mediators, and that meant interfering with their relations. I hardly think your relationship hasn't affected anything." Yzak paused. "Unless you're telling me that you didn't feel anything for her that made you send the letters."

Yzak shook his head.

"You've put your colleagues in the way of danger in the past- I can excuse that insubordination that got Sanders Gargery killed. But sending a letter with her seal- extorting Orb citizenship rights from her- what do you want me to say?"

"I was helping Plant get immunity from the Galactic Court's questioning."

"Bollocks!" Yzak cried. "That was my work! At very best, you were trying to help Plant come into the picture between Orb and the Earth Alliance in a lawful way! I know you helped us become the mediator, but how did you get her to give you the seal?"

"She told me it was the only thing that would make Kira believe that it was truly from her."

"Yeah, but what if she goes back to Orb and tells them you forced it from her? Orb could well accuse Plant of trying to find a way to get involved in this, and our operations concerning the Isle could all spill out in a way that we don't want!"

Athrun had made the one mistake that would be too much for anyone to cover up, and Yzak knew Athrun would never get away with it. "I should have seen this coming- I was supposed to know what to do with you-," He paled. "Don't tell me she's carrying your child-,"

"No." Athrun's voice sounded weary. "But in many ways, it would be easier for me to do what I planned if she was."

"You- what are you planning?" Yzak trembled with rage. How could Athrun throw everything away now for a short period and a relationship that would be impossible to sustain? Had Athrun really lost his marbles?

He paced yet again, feeling more agitated than he had ever felt. "Are you expecting me to defend you when she gets back to Orb and tells them that you seduced her? Not just enticed, Zala, seduced! Do you know the differences and the lawful consequences between both?"

"Yes. But it was neither."

"Tell that to the courts, who will never look at you as merely a person but as a Plant Intelligencer and Athrun Zala, son of Patrick Zala!"

Yzak's fist landed hard on his table. "Look, if she's desperate to cover what she agreed to as well, she might even claim you forced yourself on her! If the Galactic Court asks you to explain what your duties were as a Zaft Intelligencer working on the orders of Plant, what are you going to say? That it was your job to convince her to sleep with you? That screwing her was part of your official duties? I mean, what do you want me to do?"

"She wouldn't say that." Athrun said firmly. "She wouldn't ever betray me that way."

Yzak nearly torn his hair out.

"Look," Yzak snapped, "I know you think the world of her. I know she's probably had a hold on you that you weren't even conscious of, and I know she's very attractive. And you know what? I agree that she's the kind of person most men would like as their lover for various reasons. But that doesn't mean you put complete, blind, utterly baseless trust in her; just because she's breathed into your ear and told you that she loves you!"

"She's never told me that." Athrun's voice was very quiet.

"You see?" Yzak sounded savagely triumphant.

"And that's why I know that the promises she does make will not be broken." Athrun's stubbornness made Yzak feel drained suddenly. "Besides that, you owe me a favour."

"A favour?" Yzak spluttered. "How could you ask me for that now?" He thought about all the duties he'd been carrying, the promotion that was expected to come, the lives he had to look out for, and even Shiho, who hadn't known what he'd been up to for all these years as part of his job. What could Athrun possibly want now? "I don't owe you anything, Zala!"

"You do. You owe me a favour for telling the Secret Intelligence Council that I still had feelings for Cagalli Yula Atha. You owe me the favour, because you knew I would definitely extend my contract if they told me her life was in danger and you told the Numbers. You were responsible for letting me meet her again."

"Yes," Yzak argued, feeling the guilt pound into him. All he'd raised and berated Athrun for had really been the truth, although Yzak knew the root of it was the concern for his friend. He did not want to see Athrun throw away his future and all that was supposed to be his in this mad, strangely hopeful but momentary and never permanent chance at happiness. " I know I'm part of the reason why you met her again. But I'm not responsible for making you regain your feelings for her again- that's what I tried to prevent when I put you to the job! I wanted you to have closure!"

"I wanted to have closure too." Athrun admitted. "I never got it. But at least, I had her with me for these months. So I'm begging you. I'll take all the responsibility when the Galactic Courts question the Numbers. But I need you to ensure that Kira sends his troops to Sweden."

Yzak was silent.

* * *

_They were drinking and laughing, and if anyone had been listening outside, they would have immediately assumed there was a couple having a fact, this was what James Marlin's butler was doing, and he was very glad to hear that his employer and the Orb Princess were hitting it off. He decided he wanted to make it more romantic for them, and he hurried away like a busy squirrel to dig out the store of red wine. Coffee and tea were far too unromantic._

_But of course, the butler was the sort who suffered from watching too many office-romance serials and a general lack of awareness and imagination. _

_Cagalli and Marlin were doing nothing of the sort that required red wine, candles or flowers. Work papers were strewn between them even when they used the same couch, and the air was stuffy from the doors being closed since their meeting had ended. While the other ministers had left, there was still nothing particularly less stressful about the air. In fact, their drinks were caffeine-loaded and there was very little romance in the atmosphere._

_But it was that precise, conspicuous absence that made Cagalli feel comfortable with James Marlin. It didn't matter that she was twenty-one and that he was twenty-eight. It didn't matter that she seemed immature when he seemed more than two decades older than her in his sophistication and his rather dark sense of humour. She liked that about him. _

"_I cannot believe you told the Britannian Minister of Health that he was being a bias old fart to his face!" She giggled. "I nearly spat out my coffee when you told him that you fully approved of Orb's proposal to invest in Britannia's health system."_

"_You know what he said to me after that?" Marlin said cheekily. "He accused me of being caught up with emotions and work and not using my head properly. He said Britannia was going to go bust under me- just because I supported your proposal."_

_Cagalli laughed more, but then thought of something and then piped down. "Crap. I hope he doesn't go tell any media member about your supposed motivations for agreeing to Orb's business ventures."_

"_Why are you afraid anyway?" Marlin was looking intently at her, although she did not notice it. "And that leads me to another question. Remember last week's ball?"_

_She'd accompanied him to an event in London, and she'd had a lovely time there. She had loved the dry wit the people around her had displayed, she had enjoyed their sarcasm and frankly, she had been entirely besotted by the pet cats some guests had brought along. She'd spent many a happy minute playing with those when nobody expected her to be dancing or eating._

"_I loved Whiskers," Cagalli said happily. "And Gemma and Furball and Cocoa and Mouser and-,"_

"_Not the cats." Marlin interrupted, a grin erupting on his face despite his slight annoyance. How could she do this, he wondered? How could she affect him so much and then pretend not to know what she'd done to him? "I meant-," He faltered a little. "I meant us."_

"_Oh." She said in surprise. "Oh. Yes."_

_She had been his dance partner and they'd even been captured on the camera together. Orb's reporters had been highly excited about their princess being featured with someone for once, and Britannia had shown equal interest. _

_Marlin observed her. They'd met a year ago and became fast friends. Despite his excuses, Marlin knew that he had agreed to go along with some of the policies she wanted to forward as part of bilateral relations between Britannia and Orb because of what he knew he felt towards her. Frankly, very little of the proposals benefited Britannia as much as Orb gained from it._

"_Are you afraid that if we try anything funny in public, they'll write bad stories about us?" He asked her boldly._

_The drinks that the butler had brought in were getting cold. There was one cup of coffee for her, and one cup of tea for him. He did not like coffee, but he knew that it was her secret weapon. _

"_I'm not afraid of that." Cagalli said vehemently. "They wouldn't, anyway. They'd be too happy to write that the old maid's finally getting married and fulfilling her patriotic duties."_

"_Old maid?" He snorted. "How young are you again? How young and incredibly successful are you again, to the point that you don't really need to be some trophy wife for some second-rate prig?"_

_She shook her head, smiling a little. "You know, I nearly vomited blood when I read the Forbes Most Successful People of Our Times list."_

"_They featured the only woman I get along with, of course." He waggled his eyebrows at her._

"_Excuse me," Cagalli said cynically, "I know that you visit the Bahamas for more than palm trees. You're lucky that the Britannian love your roguish image. It seems to me that you get along with lots of women."_

"_Not for reasons other than the sex." He pointed out._

"_I resent that." She grimaced at him."You are a downright bastard at times, Jimmy."_

"_Hey, I didn't mean it in the misogynistic sense." Marlin defended himself. "Okay, maybe a little. Frankly, I don't expect much brains from women- they're too emotional and predictable. Many don't even know what they want."_

"_And that's why you get along with me?" Cagalli demanded. "Because I'm not stupid and I'm not emotional and I'm not predictable? Is that it?"_

"_But you buck the trend, it's true." Marlin looked at her in a way that she didn't expect- with tenderness. She wondered why she suddenly felt a pain in her that she didn't want to admit she felt. This pain and this longing- this regret- it was all part of her imagination. It had to be. There was no reason why she had to feel all this now._

_The tenderness however, was familiar._

_He took her hand gently, patting it in a not too sleazy way but staring at her with such gentleness that she felt distinctively uncomfortable. She did not want Marlin being so nice to her- she did not want Marlin looking at her like he was expecting her to say something. Why this sudden gentility, this sudden affection?_

_Awkwardly, she took her hand back._

_Cagalli wondered if that was part of the flirting- she'd imitated his cheekiness when she had decided to flirt back with him a long time ago, but wasn't that what friends did? Wasn't that what Aaron and she did too? Was tenderness part of the equation now? Because if it was, Cagalli didn't know if she was capable of responding. _

"_Besides," Marlin added, as if sensing she wasn't so comfortable with the silence. "You can discuss politics, and that adds a hundred points for you."_

"_Why, thank you." She said dryly. "It's part of my job, right?"_

"_Well, yeah. But you do it fabulously."_

_Cagalli had been a bit surprised when she'd realized that he was flirting with her all that time ago, but she had not been as adverse to it as she'd first expected. _

_To tell the truth, Marlin's attentions were flattering, even if they were not always encouraged or wanted. He was a looker, that was for sure, and nobody had flirted so aggressively with her before. Nobody had dared to or seemed to want to. Not even-_

"_Anyway," She said hastily, cutting away from the thoughts that she knew were of dangerous topics. "They featured me on that list and started their write-up with these exact words. Wait for it." She cleared her throat. "For a woman, Cagalli Yula Atha is more than a force to be reckoned with." She punched an invisible enemy that probably had the words 'Forbes Editors' on it. "The nerve!"_

"_Er-?" He cocked his head, not getting it. "I was expecting an insult."_

_Cagalli threw her hands up in the air. "You! You're one of them too!"_

_He still looked confused._

"_I want you to tell me the truth now." Cagalli said firmly, settling nearer to him and grabbing his face with her hand. He looked into her eyes and he felt himself feeling a little strange- like he'd met someone he wanted to know as thoroughly as his own parents. "Tell me what your colleagues think of me."_

"_Competent, driven, ambitious, intelligent." He ticked off some of the things they'd said about her. "They also think you're a knock-out and some of my male colleagues think you look great in the military uniform, which forgive me," He looked apologetically at her, "- I really hate. The red, blue and white makes you look like a butch."_

"_What else?"_

"_Focused, a bit ruthless- in the good way, of course," He added hastily, watching her expression fall, "They think you're one of the few who are God's gift to politics and Orb's economy. Skilled- more than skilled, if you ask me- and very amazing for a woman." The words left his mouth before he realized what he'd said. She took her hand away, looking a bit hurt._

"_Is that all they think of me?" She demanded. "Some woman who lucked out and made it big in politics?"_

"_Why do you hate that?" He asked inquisitively._

_Cagalli looked disbelievingly at James Marlin- alpha male in the prime of his life, who had the media at his feet without even having to work. His good looks were an asset that he milked, but she had seen his female counterparts in politics suffer when they made mistakes. They'd suffered the consequences of being both female and attractive._

"_Why do you hate being labeled a woman-politician so much?" He asked for the second time._

"_Excuse me, what's the question again?"_

_He smirked. "Okay, point taken."_

_And she laughed, clinging deliriously to his shoulders. The boardroom they were in wasn't a very big one, but it had a door conjoined to his living room in the temporary place the Britannian Embassy in Orb had arranged for him to stay in._

"_I'm not really afraid of what they could say about me though," Cagalli said bluntly, pushing her fringe out her face as they huddled closer on the sofa. They were still sitting normally, she observed, but the proximity was certainly not normal or proper. But it was ten at night, her house was two hours away from here if she called the chauffeur, and she wondered whether the tea was still warm. "Even now. Like what we're doing- this is flirting, isn't it?"_

"_I'm glad you finally realized."_

_He grabbed her face, looking at her intently. "Don't turn away. Try it."_

"_Try what?"_

" _Us."_

_Of course, she laughed it off. If Marlin had been someone she hadn't cared two hoots for, she would have simply packed up and left. But the thought of the empty house, the thought of how she hadn't been willing to be friendly with anyone for this long had made her stay. The fact that he was looking at her in a way that made her feel insecure but quite faltered compounded it. She knew what all those thoughts cumulated into. It was loneliness._

_And when Marlin whispered his dare to her, she nodded boldly, although a little piece of her broke when his lips touched hers experimentally._

_Then he was kissing her mouth, tugging her to him. She froze, for she hadn't expected that. She expected a light graze, a small peck- anything that would remind her that this was all play and simply nothing to think much about._

_But as he pulled her in demandingly, she felt herself remember what it was like to be kissed- what it was like to be wanted and what it was liked to be liked. This was familiar- even if painfully so. But why painfully?_

_She didn't want to feel or remember what the rain on her cheeks had felt like._

_Almost defiantly, Cagalli began to kiss him back, not resisting anymore. She closed her eyes as he stroked her cheek, letting him part her lips further. She despised this feeling of being lost. She despised the pain that was blossoming in her again. She despised this loneliness that was plaguing her. She despised him. She despised herself. She despised herself for letting herself be weak and needing someone again. _

_When they parted momentarily, she felt dazed although there was a building nausea in her. He reminded her of someone else. She didn't want to be reminded or have to remember. _

_But she was spared the dilemma of wondering what to feel towards Marlin, this man who'd suddenly appeared and seemed to be interested enough to flirt with her, at very least. A knock on the door sounded, and they pulled apart just in time._

_And almost casually, they let go of each other immediately as the butler bustled in to refill their cups and to give them a cheery wave. "Red wine, sir?"_

_"Er- no thanks, Banks, it's fine," Marlin looked a bit ruffled._

_"More milk?" The butler inquired, looking bashfully at Cagalli. She shook her head, fighting back her nervous laughter._

_"More sugar?"The butler questioned Marlin._

_"No, no-," Marlin looked both amused but rather annoyed. He snuck a glance at Cagalli, who did not seem to have swooned from his kiss but was looking a bit confused and more interested in the rather strange, matronly butler. At that point, Marlin cursed the butler inwardly.  
_

_And the distance between them seemed to grow into an ocean even after the butler closed the doors and disappeared right after bowing._

"_So?" Marlin inquired, smiling recklessly. "Are you still afraid?"_

"_I'm not really afraid if someone takes a photograph." Cagalli ended, her cheeks flaming, watching the butler retreat and close the doors he hadn't bothered knocking on. She wondered if the kiss had felt nice. It had, in its own way. He was a good kisser, that was for sure. It had felt nice enough._

_She wondered why she was trying to convince herself that she had felt nice when he'd kissed her._

_He laughed. "If the papers call you a lesbian-,"_

"_Look, they've called me that and worse." She said flatly._

"_Alright." Marlin said mischievously. "Given that they've called you unsavory names because of the lack of a man next to you, what are you going do to about it?"_

_She looked surprised. "Am I supposed to do anything about it?"_

_He nodded. "Image-control, right?"_

"_Can't be bothered." Cagalli said flippantly, although she knew she cared, deep down inside of her._

"_Haven't you ever had a date before?" Marlin asked curiously. "Haven't heard of anything other than official events."_

"_That's because I can control the media, you know." She grinned at him. "Even if I chose to have a harem, I don't think they could report it if I enacted the right clauses."_

"_Well," He said suggestively. "That's good then. I was thinking that it might be a bad thing if your chauffeur told anyone in the media that all the ministers left an hour ago but you're still here."_

"_A timely reminder." Cagalli hugged him, picking up her bag, swigging down the last of her tea. _

_It had been an interesting evening, she supposed. It had been a nice meeting that had gone quite smoothly with Britannia's ministers. Nice. Nice. Nice. Everything was nice. There were few other words she could think of these days. Nice. Not Nice. Un-Nice._

_This had been nice, she decided. She felt a wave of frustration wash into her and Cagalli wanted nothing more than to go home suddenly. Yet, she'd accomplished quite a bit today. _

_She should have been celebrating- telling someone who would listen if she said that she'd achieved so much today. And even then, Cagalli realized, that was mostly thanks to James Marlin, the Prime minister. Orb was set for a good year with its newly-forged business relations._

"_Hey," Marlin protested, "We only started getting cosy. We didn't even get to kiss properly- the butler couldn't leave us alone." He shook his head._

"_That was a dare I was about to chicken out on, Jimmy." _

"_Still." Marlin said insistently, "I'm sure he wouldn't pop in again if we did try for a second time. Are you really going now, Princess?"_

_Cagalli shook her head in disapproval. "Don't call me that, Jimmy. You know how I hate it."_

"_Didn't your former boyfriends call you that when they wanted to put you in a good mood?" Marlin clucked his tongue cheekily. "Your one, true love must have been at your beck and call all day long, Princess."_

"_I chased them away before they could try it." She said wryly."And actually, I've never had a boyfriend."_

"_You're kidding!" He nearly shot out of his seat._

"_No, I'm not." Cagalli shrugged. "It's a waste of time."_

"_You've got to be kidding me! Surely you've seen someone you fell head over heels for before? Like, men around you?" He ticked off an imaginary list. "Let's see- like maybe another Emir? Or an Orb noble at least?" She shook her head, laughing at the ridiculous turn of conversation. If Marlin hadn't been a close friend of hers, she would have ignored the conversation entirely. "Er- what about the clandestine sort?"_

_Cagalli rolled her eyes. "Have you been borrowing Aaron's chick-lit?"_

"_Maybe the coffee-boy who is more steamy than what he delivers?" Marlin piped up excitedly. "Or the postman who arrives once a week and smiles that million-dollar-smile at you? The bodyguard who protects you at all costs?"_

_She ignored the sudden skip her heart made. Casually, she put on her scarf and coat, noting that Marlin was still staring at her. Demandingly, she asked, "What?"_

"_I heard you talking to Ledonir Kisaka the other day, when he visited." He said quietly. "I heard him asking about Athrun Zala. He was a former bodyguard right?"_

_The genuine interest that Marlin was showing without knowing what was going through her head made her slightly nauseous. Why was he showing interest in what was probably the rumors resurfacing when the older staff of her office was a bit bored?_

_The interest he demonstrated reminded her of one watching a documentary about some rare, fascinating animal that lived too far away but could be found as a weak, defenseless specimen in a zoo enclosure, for people to prod and point at. _

"_I suppose he came here when he was lying low after the First War- because of what his father did. I heard he used to be one of your bodyguards. Do you remember him?" Marlin scratched his head slightly. "Or were there too many for you to remember him?"_

_She was at the doorway, but she close her eyes tightly, hoping Marlin wouldn't sense how tense she knew she was. She turned back to him, fighting to keep her expression neutral and her voice steady. _

_Softly, Cagalli said, "I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_That means you haven't had a boyfriend before!" Marlin said in surprise, standing up now. "That means the bits of fluff and gossip I heard were untrue!"_

"_And what's the interest?" She snapped suddenly. She was suddenly in no mood for pleasantries. "Even if I had dated a thousand and three men before, what would it be to you, Marlin?"_

_He looked a little taken aback. "Nothing. Nothing at all." A small smile tugged its way to his lips again. "I just heard that-," He shook his head. "Never mind. I bet those were false anyway."  
_

"_What did you hear?" Cagalli demanded, highly affronted that people were gossiping about her as part of the lunchtime entertainment._

"_I guess it's baseless, now that you said all that. But I heard that you were once in love with Athrun Zala."_

"_T-That's nonsense." Her throat was suddenly dry. "I didn't even know he was my bodyguard until he left. There were too many bodyguards around at any given point. If I noticed one as an individual, that would be a freak accident. I never knew Athrun Zala was around in Orb before the Second War, let alone one of the many bodyguards."_

"_Do you think he might have used a pseudonym?" Marlin seemed quite interested in this, much to her chagrin. "I don't think Orb would be so keen to let him around you if they'd realized who he really was."_

"_I suppose that's a possibility." Cagalli's voice was cold. "Even if I met him, I'm not sure I would feel anything for him. I've heard all sorts of bad things about him."_

"_Defector, madman's son, murderer-," Marlin was ticking off a list. "Yep, I guess it's unlikely you'd have let him near if you knew that he was Athrun Zala and not Mr. John Smith-pseudonym he pretended to be."_

_Suddenly, Cagalli wanted to cry. She began to say something, thought the better of it, and bit her lips pathetically. Marlin was watching her, and Cagalli decided she would rather remain apathetic and strong. At least, there would be one less person who'd seen the wrong side of her. _

_She turned back to the door, muttering a nearly unintelligible 'goodnight'._

_It was the first time that she'd doubted whether she'd wronged Athrun by forcing him to leave Orb. It was not the first time that she felt as though she'd betrayed him._

* * *

She awoke, tears streaming down her face, the moonlight illuminating an empty bed. The shadows in the room cast queer, still shapes over the bed, diagonal and dark. In her nightgown, she felt strangely hollow, strangely empty, and strangely heavy.

Her hand strayed to her cheeks. Then realizing that the actions were pointless, she turned onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillows until they were quite soaked with her silent sobs.

She was being overly-emotional, she knew that. Athrun would return. It wasn't like he had left her here or anything. But why hadn't he come back by now?

Athrun had not returned despite what the twins had thought, and Cagalli knew that she would probably be unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Where was he? He hadn't said anything when he'd left the other day- not even when she begged him to stay for just another minute.

She'd spent her time waiting for him after dinner, but he hadn't returned.

The blankets he'd probably covered her with had slipped off when she'd woken up in a panic. Shivering, she pulled the covers up now, although those did little for her. Even the thick, down-layered quilt would not help the fear and insecurity in her, and the only thing that could remove the emptiness had been taken away when Athrun had left.

He was probably going to return to her by the morning, Cagalli hoped. Perhaps she'd be roused from her sleep with his warmth and his voice telling her that he had come back. He would maybe smile at her and let her nestle her head against him and tell her that he wasn't going anywhere for the next few days. Perhaps he would come back and slip into the bed and she'd wake up and find herself in his arms once more.

Her head was aching and the dull hum of something in her ears made her feel woozy. She leaned back a little more, trying to breathe normally.

Feverishly, she tried to hide herself from both the shadows and light alike. She was aware that she felt warm and cold at the same time, but perhaps that was just her imagination.

Cagalli gazed at the window, trying to calm down. The night was becoming colder and suddenly, she missed Athrun more than ever. She wanted to have his warmth near her- she wanted to have him hold her no matter how their time was running out. The night seemed frightening and ominous now, and a single cry from a wild animal beyond her made Cagalli feel very ill at ease.

But as she stared outside, half of her still prayed that the morning would never come.

* * *

Kira was growing impatient.

The area of state-owned water had been roped off, but the ships docked within it looked nothing like state-owned ships. These were small, innocuous, and even incongruously parked in those waters. Similarly, Kira was dressed not in an Orb uniform, but ordinary clothes that suggested he was going on a simple trip. The destination may have been anywhere in the world.

Kira had not informed Lacus of what he was up to. If he did, she would surely worry, and he did not want that. Nor had he allowed Aaron, Kisaka or Shinn along. They needed to keep watch on Orb for him.

Turning to Kisaka, Kira demanded, "Can't we move now?"

Kisaka patted his back, shaking his head. "They're trying as best as they can. It's an emergency and they understand that. But the troops need to make sure the coast is clear- literally- before you head to Sweden."

Their eyes travelled to the docks. Before them, there were five ships that appeared as fishing schooners. However, there were no fishes to be caught, even when the nets and trawlers seemed ready. Aboard the ships, there were no fishermen- only the Orb troops.

The sun did not seem to be particularly strong today and there were clouds everywhere. It would probably rain along the journey, and the sea could be rough to maneuver. But Kira knew there was no other way to get to Sweden.

Scandinavia and Sweden was rather far away but there was certainly no hope of a plane being able to land in there. Every air vessel had to be checked before it was allowed into the region, and those that were allowed in had to be invited in the first place. Over the past few weeks, the Scandinavian Heads had grown more and more anxious about the impending dateline. At the same time, they'd grown more paranoid of any plane coming in.

But a bunch of fishing schooners was different. Nobody was expecting soldiers dressed as fishermen, and Kira knew that these ships were more likely to get its way into that heavily guarded region.

"Frankly, I would feel a lot safer if you went," Kira confessed to Kisaka. "I cannot believe the Council of Elders wants you to stay put in Orb."

"Technically," Kisaka said heavily, "I'm Cagalli's guardian now, so I have to be around to read her will if-," He looked down at his rather clunky feet, his expression troubled. "If she doesn't come back."

"She's going to." Kira said fiercely. "I'll make sure of it. If she's not safe I-," He broke away, thinking of the letters he'd received from her. Each time, the letters had assured him of her safety. But the most recent one did not bear that good news, even if it still had her seal. In fact, the typewritten letter was entirely devoid of any attempt to state that it was from Cagalli.

Without another word, Kira strode to the deck, where he was preparing to set sail with the troops. There was no other way to do this, Kira thought firmly. He knew that even when he'd given his word on behalf of the Orb government to try and settle this dispute in a proper manner while abiding by the Galactic Court's decision, he could not ignore this letter.

There was no other way except to back out of the agreement that Orb had made with Scandinavia. Orb had originally abided by the Galactic Court's earlier decision. This meant that Orb had agreed to stay out of the region to give Scandinavia its six months to search for the princess and settle its internal problems.

However, Kira did not want to trust that agreement anymore.

As the captain of the main ship saluted to Kira, he returned it curtly, nodding and signaling that the doors should be sealed as the ship would set sail now. The things the men had packed along resembled fishing equipment from the boxes. But inside were their weapons.

While the soldiers on these five ships were decked in fishermen garb too, they were the best soldiers Orb had. They had already received the instructions. They were to search for Cagalli Yula Atha in every part of the designated place, and they had to bring down anyone who appeared to be harming her at that moment.

Kira did not know what to make of the instructions that the letter had come with. All he was absolutely sure of was that it was from Athrun Zala. He'd suspected that the person who'd sent the first letter Cagalli had written to him was someone she knew.

Who could be so meticulous and so willing to let her send it when it had its repercussions? Who would be convinced to let his or her captive write such a potentially dangerous letter? Who would let Cagalli Yula Atha say so clearly that she was still alive, and who could persuade Cagalli Yula Atha to divulge every detail of her personal seal?

He'd suspected a few people, but had settled on Athrun without knowing exactly why. That instinctive trust he found himself placing in the person who'd let Cagalli write this had pointed him in the direction of suspecting it was Athrun. After all, the person who let her write this had to be hidden away in some area, and the person had been hidden rather successfully too. Athrun Zala had sprung to his mind quite immediately.

Kira did have a way to test his rather baseless guess though. He'd told Yzak Joule about Cagalli's past, and a few days later, he'd gotten a letter from Cagalli reassuring him that she did not blame him. It could not be mere coincidence. That meant that Yzak Joule was in contact with Athrun, for only Athrun would feel responsible enough to let Cagalli write to Kira, and only Yzak had been told of Cagalli's past.

He felt the letter in his pocket. And helplessly, Kira said quietly for the umpteenth time, "What are you planning, Athrun?"

At this point, he still did not know.

* * *

As the screen folded shut, Athrun was pretty sure that he'd escaped yet another potentially problematic situation with the Numbers. Yzak had been rather cold towards him, but that was only to be expected. From what Athrun had deduced from the Numbers' general attitude though, Yzak had not told them about what he'd found out.

At least, Athrun thought with some relief, he'd survived this meeting.

Now, Sheba, Lent and Athrun were the only ones left in the room. Tom Edgeworth had bounced off after Barnett Romia had left to bake something or the other, and Leopold Wasser and Alstarice Krieg had gone off to discuss some business figures. Orlick Churchill had resumed training with his aides, ever consistent with his practice and discipline.

While the last shipment of refugees had been sent to the Plants, Athrun knew nobody had let their guards down. The Eyes were the best soldiers of Zaft, and none of them were likely to forget the danger they lived in at every moment of their lives on the Isle.

"What was it that you wanted to speak to me about?" Athrun asked tentatively. He took a sip of his coffee, sensing some awkwardness between the three of them.

Lent exchanged a glance with Sheba. "I think you have to be careful, Rune. Sheba here says that recently, Greyfriars has been entering the Swedish palace. He enters and nobody stops him or checks on him- which means that someone in there has given permission to him."

Athrun leaned back heavily, thinking hard. He could not think of any clear reason as to why Greyfriars had been leaving the asylum that Plant's Secret Intelligence Council had provided to visit anyone in the Swedish palace.

"The Crown Princess is still there, right?" Lent asked Sheba.

She nodded tensely.

Ever since she'd vanished, Sheba had been working ceaselessly to track her down. While it had been very difficult because Sheba had been sacked with so many other guards and servants from the Swedish Palace, Sheba had bribed a kitchen maid to tell her of where the Princess had been brought to and by whom.

Sheba looked troubled. "But I haven't been able to see Freja Magdalena. Nobody enters except two royal guards and her brother. They've told the rest of us that she's ill, but why go through all the trouble to pluck her from her quarters if that was the case? It looked like a kidnap then- but now I know it was a struggle more than anything else."

"Greyfriars didn't do it." Athrun recalled. "He told me he didn't, and he didn't have any reason to lie." His eyes darkened. "Now I know he was telling the truth. I suppose I will still have to ask him why he managed to get into the Swedish Palace, and what he was doing there."

"You do that," Lent nodded. "Maybe it's got to do with the lax security. The palace is in mourning now, because the High King has just died ."

Yesterday, the Swedish Palace spokespersons announced that the Crown Princess was too ill to take over. Furthermore, her husband was dead in the eyes of the world, although Athrun knew Erik Strumsson was still alive and kicking in Prague.

"So Pietre Harraldsson is the High King now." Sheba concluded. "Just like what we reported to the Numbers. It's too much really- he used to manipulate the old king all day long. And when he was put in charge of the internal security agents, I never knew you could do so much mischief with that power."

Lent shrugged. "I reckon he's always hated Coordinators to the point that he wants to wipe out the Halfs."

"Maybe because he felt marginalised when the Crown Princess married a Coordinator. Erik Strumsson seemed to be more influential than Harraldsson when the former married into the Swedish Royal family and took on Harraldsson's previous posts of influence. Remember how Harraldsson used to be part of the council that managed Denmark? When Erik Strumsson came in, Harraldsson had opposition to his ideas of controlling Denmark very tightly." Sheba questioned. "And he was often rude to Erik Strumsson too. It's funny though- it's such a childish, petty thing to be jealous of your brother-in-law. The Crown Princess doted on her husband and her brother so much, and she often remarked to me that her brother never seemed quite fond of her husband, despite how her husband cared for him."

Athrun rubbed his temples. "Erik always suspected that the Crown Prince was waiting to take over his father's position, and that's why he was so displeased when Freja Magdalena married. She wasn't expected to, you know. She was always weak and very fragile, right?"

Sheba nodded. "But she ended up marrying and that put Pieter Harraldsson off-course. Not for long, though."

"But Harraldsson is a child." Lent reminded all of them. "It's hard to determine his age by looking at him, and he's very mature and intelligent too. But he is a child, and that's why it's even more unbelievable that he orchestrated all these attacks by manipulating the right people."

Athrun looked at them indifferently. "It remains that the six months are almost up now. What do you want me to do, Lent?" He looked at Sheba coolly too. "I will take revenge on him for you, Sheba. Greyfriars has agreed to help me get hold of him."

"But I don't want that!" Sheba said abruptly, her voice rising as she slammed her hand down on the table. "Not when it's someone who killed so many innocent children helping to nab the person who killed Sanders!"

"Don't forget that Greyfriars and the terrorists weren't responsible for the schoolhouse massacres in Sweden. Remember?" Lent reminded her. "The papers from Scandinavia reported that they were responsible for those terrorists acts. But their own children died in those blasts. How could they be responsible? They wouldn't kill their own children just to proclaim their cause and desire for independence."

She stood up, pacing anxiously. "Still, I don't trust Greyfriars. There's no one I can trust except the Numbers and my colleagues."

Athrun could see why she had little faith in the Danish terrorist. The man was too much of an enigma and too dangerous. He was bent on getting independence from Denmark, no matter what he had to sacrifice and how he had to do it. He had even been willing to sacrifice Cagalli for it, despite Cagalli having never done a single wrong against him.

Athrun shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lent. I'm sorry, Sheba."

They mistook his guilt as the old one. They mistook his guilt at letting them down yet again as the mistake he'd made in the past, when he'd insisted that Sanders continue to stay in the Swedish palace as a spy.

At that time, the Numbers had wanted to send in the twins to be kitchen maids and had even trained them for it, but Athrun had refused. He hadn't wanted to let them from his sight, now that they'd become part of the family he had.

Despite knowing that Sanders had been in risk and that other guards were becoming suspicious of him, Athrun had insisted that Sanders continue his job there. While Sanders had actually helped Erik Strumsson out of the attempted assassination, Sanders had roused the suspicion of his employer, and he'd finally paid the price.

A week after Athrun had insisted that his aides would not be used, Sanders had been killed in an explosion that had been written off as the Danish terrorists' work once again. The Eyes knew better. The Swedish Crown Prince had been growing suspicious of his primary bodyguard, who had seemed to know too much.

But Sanders had managed to send his report over to the Numbers eventually.

"I can still recall his last words," Lent murmured. "All official and all brisk sounding. He didn't even sound like he was in pain until the end."

"He was the one who told us that he'd discovered what the Crown Prince was up to." Sheba looked brokenly at them. She remembered listening to the last message that Sanders had left, knowing that he loved her although he hadn't had a single breath left to tell her that. "I didn't even believe it at first. That was only four years ago- that means that Pietre Harraldsson was only eleven! Look at him-,"

"The face of an angel." Lent agreed. "It's hard to believe he has such a deep-seated hatred."

"That's why I have to kill him." Athrun said softly, with such poison that Sheba was shaken. "I'll kill him for killing Sanders."

"When Sanders died, I never blamed you, Rune." Sheba said firmly. "Not in the least. That's why I didn't leave the Isle even when I was in so much pain from his death. I knew that I had to work for what Sanders wanted."

"He wanted peace. That's why he agreed to stay on the Isle and take on double duties as both the protector of the original asylum-seekers and as a spy in the Swedish Palace. He became the person that Erik Strumsson suggested we send in." Lent told them firmly. He looked at Athrun with an expression of regret. "The Eyes have been working to protect the Isle-dwellers for a long time now, but we've also been working to protect the Halfs that came after the original Coordinators."

"I know." Athrun said fitfully. "Sanders always believed that nobody had the right to judge anyone on the mere basis that they were Coordinators or Naturals. That's why I'm sure that he'd agree that the Halfs have done no wrongs too. Why should they be persecuted for being perceived as impure, when all they have against them is their mixed parentage?"

Sheba sat down tiredly, running a hand through her hair as she eased the long, jagged pin from it. "At least, Erik Strumsson believes that too. That's why he begged the Plants to do something about the Halfs when he realized that he could not and that Pietre Harraldsson was bent on wiping them out. Starting with Denmark, then Scandinavia, then Orb and soon, the whole of the Earth Alliance."

Athrun shook his head. "Erik has had to suffer so much for what he believes in."

They could recall how the Crown Princess' husband had spoken out against Coordinators who had attacked Naturals for no reason except for revenge, despite how he was a Coordinator too. Erik Strumsson had also condemned the Naturals who had been antagonistic to Coordinators for no other reason except their heritage.

"He's had to leave his wife behind for a very long time now." Lent said sadly. "And he even had to feign his own death when his own brother-in-law tried to have him assassinated."

"Of course," Athrun muttered, "That was written off as the terrorists' work too. Just like the schoolhouse massacres."

But even when Erik had been targeted next for trying to quell the conflict between Coordinators and Naturals and Plant had given him an asylum, he had chosen to stay.

Erik Strumsson had been the one to beg Plant to give an asylum to those persecuted for their mixed heritage too. Plant had been unwilling to interfere with Scandinavia's internal affairs, but had eventually decided to grant that asylum. As Erik had argued with them, it hadn't seemed right to let the Coordinators and Halfs die.

Now though, Athrun decided, the time was coming. The refugees were safe now and the only person Athrun cared for was not part of his duties or his obligations.

Even if he had to let Lent and Sheba down again, Athrun thought to himself, it was going to be worth it.

* * *

The Plants were beautiful places- if not a little too perfect. Each one had a distinctive culture to it, and Aprilius was the capital in many ways. December was something of a rural place with a countryside setting, but Aprilius was very built-up and urban. This plant was the heart of all Plants, and amidst its most expensive core spaces, the Joule Estate had been built there.

Yzak Joule knocked tentatively on the door, wondering as he had always done, what his mother was up to in there. Her room was large and airy, but he had always felt a little cramped in there. Her presence was rather enormous, if he wanted to be absolutely honest with himself.

"Come in." Her voice was always so authoritative that Yzak wondered if a salute was necessary.

As he stepped in, bowing slightly as had always been his habit, his mother raised her eyes to him. She had been reading, sitting as she always had in her favorite armchair, looking slightly bored. Her trusty newspapers were in a neat pile, for Ezalia always kept up with the world around her.

Even while she was trapped in her estate, the world was still pretty much a nice, big succulent oyster that belonged to her. And she certainly exploited it.

"What's your business here today, Yzak?"

"I just came to visit you." He said tensely, taking a seat. He wondered what his mother would say if he had broached the subject immediately.

"Unlikely. Just speak your mind."

She looked at him knowingly, a smile easing itself into her face and making her look less wintry. Her coloring had been passed onto him, but if he had always thought he looked slightly washed-out, Ezalia Joule's silver hair and extremely pale skin made her look very regal.

As a child, Yzak had read about the White Witch in children books. The White Witch was always depicted with long hair, a sparkling mantle and a wand that she wielded to freeze animals into stone. Instead of taking heed of the illustrations provided, the younger Yzak had thought of his mother. He had imagined a bob-haired woman with icy eyes and a voice as commanding and as forceful as a man's.

Come to think of it, Yzak recalled, he had imagined his mother waging a battle against the great Lion, four human children, loads of other creatures, and the Supreme Council that had kicked her off after she'd contributed so much. But she was relentless. House arrest since the end of the First War had not done anything adverse to Ezalia Joule.

In fact, she seemed to have become even more prosperous through her son's efforts and her own ability to attract the right visitors to her house. There was always a stream of important people visiting the Joule Estate, and it seemed that she was even busier these days. Despite her being at home, she was rarely dressed in anything less than her business suit.

As she had remarked to Yzak at one time, "It's nice that Plant's Supreme Council cut my transport costs and travelling."

Yzak shook his head, trying to focus. "I wanted to ask about Patrick Zala."

Her expression turned chilly, and then she sighed, her gaze softening as her eyes passed over her son. "Well, that really means you're asking about his son."

Yzak did not bother to deny anything. He knew that his mother was very aware of what he was here to find out, and interrupting her would be pointless. Ezalia was the sort who hated to be disrupted from completing what she decided to do, and she was the sort who knew exactly what was necessary for telling and what could be saved.

Either way, Yzak only had to wait and listen.

She re-crossed her legs elegantly, her hair still immaculate in that familiar bob, her chin a bit impudent as it had always been, and her lips freshly-coated by her favorite lipstick. While Ezalia was very careful with business risks, she had bought up and restarted the cosmetic company on a whim, simply because it had been going bust and she did not want to have to wear any other brand of lipstick. All while under house arrest, of course. The last Yzak could recall, the cosmetics chain had become quite an establishment.

"Light it for me please, Yzak." She murmured.

He shook his head, not wanting to disobey because that would put her in a snappy mood, but feeling slightly impatient too. He settled for a smarter way of rushing her. "You shouldn't be smoking. The doctor said you're absolutely healthy, except that you have to take more calcium. I'm not sure why you want to go take up some lousy habit when you could continue with that clean bill of-,"

"The doctor can go to hell." Ezalia said calmly, as if she were merely remarking about the weather being a bit colder than usual. She looked insistently at Yzak, who shook his head again.

Smilingly, she took her lighter, and lit her cigarette. While Yzak absolutely loathed the smell of cigarettes and the idea of second-hand smoke, he knew his mother was aware of his dislike and doing it on purpose. And that suggested that she had something she wanted to keep from him.

"You know," He said stubbornly, "I can be quite tolerant at times."

"Oh?" She said slowly, puffing and drawing from the cigarette with a pleasure that was more than physical. "Are you talking about my taking one, tiny little puff? You know I have one foot in the grave anyway."

He glared at her, and she chuckled, leaning forward and patting him on the cheek tenderly. "Fine, I'll put it out. I know you're probably going to sit here and glare your eyes out at me until I talk about it."

She stubbed out her cigarette very elegantly, and the smoky scent eventually cleared. But until it did, Yzak knew she was composing the thoughts in her head. She always did that before she chose to speak. When she did, he knew it would be his loss if he didn't pay full attention. Something in here might be beneficial- it could perhaps be used to convince Athrun Zala that he didn't need to fear his father's shadow and to act in that daredevil-hero-saviour way that he was prone to doing.

"I met Patrick Zala in the university. Brilliant man, of course, and from a very good family background too. He got married quite suddenly when his career was on its early stages of take-off." Ezalia smiled wryly. "Mostly to get the media's attention and to certify that he was the right kind of politician to get into the Supreme Council. After he got married, he seemed less like the elite sort who was too removed from the normal people. After he married some middle-class girl, he became the everyman, although he retained his pedigree. He was seen as less of the political bulldog and more of the political bull." She looked at Yzak with a tiny shrug. "You know what I'm saying?"

"Yes. The heavyweight but a person with enough empathy- he looked like a family man."

"You know how politics is a personality-game these days." Ezalia sighed, massaging her temples. "Thank God that I'm past all that. I remember what the papers used to write about me."

He could remember a headline his bunkmates had been reading about before they'd hastily stuffed it away when they realized he had entered. Something about Patrick Zala's trump card. They'd called her the iron-lady.

Privately, Yzak wondered what her media-personality had been as one of the few female Supreme Council members in the past. The Alsatian? No- that was Eileen Kanaver, who had always been a tough-biter but had a kind of nourishing, motherly nature. The Plants had probably been drawn to that when they'd chosen their latest chairman.

In contrast, Ezalia Joule was about as motherly as Yzak.

The Fox? No- Ezalia Joule could be sly, but she was never quite as underhanded or cunning as others. The Fox was more likely to be Gilbert Dullindal. Ezalia Joule was far too gracious and confident of her skills to require any scheming.

The Swan? No- that was Lacus Clyne with her unruffled ways and her graceful beauty. Ezalia Joule was very attractive, but not in that golden, warm way that Lacus Clyne had perfected. Ezalia Joule was more intimidating than that.

The Dragon. That's what she was, Yzak decided. Even now.

"Anyway," Ezalia was saying , "His wife gave birth within a year. He acted fast because he wanted a child to support his new image." She shrugged. "Of course, he wanted a son and he got a son. That's Patrick Zala for you. He didn't really know what it meant to fail."

"So when he got his child, he was already using his kid in his plans?" Yzak couldn't help butting in. His mind was focused on the letter Athrun had asked him to send, and while Yzak couldn't really decipher what was going on, Yzak smelt a rat. He recalled the conversation he'd last had with Athrun.

"Of course." Ezalia said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She looked skeptically at Yzak. "All parents do that, to a certain extent." She looked meaningfully at him. "Besides, this is Patrick Zala we're talking about- the person who planned since the day he was born. Do you know what I used to give him for every birthday, Christmas gift, Easter- all that?"

"No."

"Diaries! Schedule books! Calendars! Those were the only things he wanted more of!" She threw up her hands.

Yzak stared at his mother. "What a man." He did not mean it in the admiring way, although there were plenty of things to admire about Patrick Zala. Although he was primarily remembered for his foreign policies, he had contributed quite a bit to Plant's economy and society. Both as a philanthropist and as a politician, Patrick Zala had shaped a great deal of the Plants.

"What a man." She echoed after him. Then Ezalia Joule shook her head, her eyes dimming slightly. "And his son got some traits from his father, of course. I never got along very well with Lenore Zala- too gentle, too kind- too saintly."

"You always invited her to our house." Yzak pointed out. "And Athrun too."

Ezalia shrugged. "I liked her, but I always thought that she could never accomplish much because she was too afraid of hurting others. No. I was more interested in building up allies. Frankly, I took an interest in Athrun Zala too."

"I know." Yzak said bitterly. He thought of all the times that Ezalia had admired the boy and the times that Yzak had seethed as a child, wondering if she had been merely being polite or if she was being sincere. "I can remember you heaping praise on him. But you know what? He's an incompetent bugger at times."

"Let's face it," Ezalia said composedly. "That child is not better than my own. But I watched Patrick's child on one of those shows when he was seven."

Yzak scowled. "They really milked him, didn't they?"

Ezalia ignored the sardonic tone in his voice. "I saw that Athrun Zala had a charisma that even I didn't have." She smiled at Yzak quite simply. "But both you and I accepted that a long time ago, didn't we?"

Yzak said nothing. He was thinking of Athrun's betrayal. That Athrun had ignored his advice and had developed a relationship with the captive made Yzak feel more than annoyance- there was a great sense of disappointment in there.

It was more than a matter of professionalism. Yzak was personally disappointed that Athrun had made the same mistake again. While Yzak admired Cagalli Yula Atha, he was pretty sure that she was already married to her country. She was not going to throw everything away to be with Athrun Zala- not when there was Orb to take care of.

At the same time, Yzak was greatly infuriated at what Athrun had done despite his duties having to come first. Athrun Zala had been instructed to ensure that the captive would not leave the Manor, but he'd brought her out of it. Next, he'd probably told her about the identities of the people on the Isle, despite the Number's orders that those things were top-secret.

Also, Athrun Zala had been warned not to get his past feelings involved while acting on the night when he'd been on the SS Rafael. The instructions had been to obtain Cagalli Yula Atha's permission to bring her to a safe place. If she hadn't given it, Athrun Zala could not bring her to the Isle, for the Secret Intelligence Council could not excuse his behavior as part of duty.

Of course, Yzak recognized, they could always excuse his taking her to the Isle as something borne from necessity, given that she'd been bleeding quite badly. But still! Hadn't the Numbers decided that the Fifth Eye was the best person to be sent precisely because she would be least likely to be injured and because she would be most likely to agree to go with him?

Ezalia was watching her son carefully. He looked rather perturbed. "What made you want to know about Patrick Zala and his son?"

"Nothing." Yzak said sourly.

"I saw that her son took on more of her than his father." Ezalia sighed now. "That's why I objected to what Patrick planned. In the event that something went wrong and the Genesis trigger never worked or something to that extent, Athrun Zala was supposed to act as him and help speed up the fight against the Naturals. I just didn't think his son was up to the political game."

She shook her head. "Unlike his father, you or me, he is like his mother. He just doesn't know how to hate with all his soul."

"So you knew Athrun Zala was part of the backup for the Genesis?" Yzak demanded. "You knew about the Genesis in all its details?"

"Of course." Ezalia looked slightly insulted at his question. "I helped Patrick Zala to plan it."

* * *

All the followers were gathered here. There was not a single woman or child here- all had been sent to the Plants. The chairs in the room were scarcely enough and a few of them were standing.

Like so many who had questioned Greyfriars' authority, these men would have to be removed. Today, Athrun had been called over to Greyfriars Isle. He wasn't quite so sure why Greyfriars had asked him to come, but Greyfriars apparently had something to announce.

Amongst these men, Athrun knew that a fight was likely to break out now. While they were all seated for a meal that nobody seemed to have much interest in, Athrun knew they were ready to reap what they'd been working for.

Seated next to Greyfriars who was at the head of the table, Athrun looked at their faces. Some men were glaring at their leader, despite most looking reverently at him. Those men had been impatient for a very long time, and they'd insisted tie and again within these six months that the plans be sped up.

Tonight was probably the last time they would make such demands.

Greyfriars had already the given the signal. Even without any planning or any clear instruction that today, those trying to usurp power would need a warning, Athrun knew from the slight nod that Greyfriars was feeling threatened.

He watched amidst the crowd of men. Most of these men had lost their families, and they had been driven by the instinct of wolves to pack together, knowing their survival was higher if they found people like them. Greyfriars had been the leader for a long time- now, others were questioning his leadership.

Athrun had arrived here to Greyfriars' isle, prepared to kill those who objected to whatever Greyfriars was about to say.

At present, one man had gotten up from his seat, arguing with Greyfriars that now was the time to act. It wasn't a matter of Greyfriars not agreeing.

But Greyfriars did not like others telling him what to do. In fact, Greyfriars barely tolerated anyone giving orders that were not from him and orders that were of the exact nature as the sort he'd given.

In the past, the others had seen this strictness as a necessity for their survival. Athrun could understand that some found it oppressive now.

"I don't understand," The man was saying desperately, looking pleadingly at some other comrades for moral support as they nodded in their sections of the circle. "We've strived so hard for so long. We managed to flee from Denmark, didn't we? We did so many things to draw the world's attention to Scandinavia, and we even kidnapped the Orb Princess here for that! Now that Orb wants to enter Scandinavia and is just a few days away from doing that, why do we have to hesitate some more?"

A few men were nodding openly and talking amongst themselves in agreement. The one next to Athrun was nodding. He took note of their faces, even if he did not know some of their names. He would have to be careful of them. They were likely to want to usurp power, and they would surely do that first by removing him, who was the right-hand man of the current leader.

"You know, Greyfriars." Another chimed in, standing up and spreading his arms, "I think you're chickening out. Are you going to let our families' blood be just spilt like that?"

Another stood up tensely too. "I say you're weakening as a leader. We need someone decisive now, not somebody who wants to wait until the last minute to have the Orb Princess sacrificed."

"I understand what you're saying," Greyfriars said amicably- far more amicably than what Athrun would have expected of him at this stage. Perhaps, Greyfriars had been comforting himself with the thought of his right-hand man killing off these people who even dared to stand up like this, Athrun realized.

"I have already said," Greyfriars told them patiently, looking at the men. Together, there were slightly less than fifty of them, but they had a bloodthirstiness that would not be affected by their numbers. "The Orb Princess is a goldmine for us. She has captured the world's attention, as we have planned, and countries outside this region have definitely been featuring our group in the media for a long time. Nobody can ignore our plight anymore."

"But why did we put off killing her?" One man asked boldly. "For so long too, when she probably knows where this place is by now."

"Estragon has assured me that she does not." Greyfriars said firmly. "I trust that she doesn't."

There were murmurs of discontent around. Many did not see why a semi-outsider had become the leader's right-hand man even when he'd killed the previous one over some minor dispute involving some insignificant whore and his pride.

"Besides," Greyfriars said loudly, "As much as the Orb Princess appears useless to our purposes, keeping her alive allows us a trump card over Sweden."

Athrun knew Greyfriars had been convinced by him. He felt relief flood into him.

"Let me clarify this," Another follower who had spoken earlier stood up again, "First you tell us that killing her is the best way to draw attention to Scandinavia. So we sent men to Orb and risked their lives to plant traps. It went on for a few

years, right? You asked for his help too."

The heads turned to look at Athrun. He said nothing, but looked forward steadily.

The man began to pace fitfully. "And as if that wasn't enough trouble, you for her to be kidnapped here, but alive. You even enlisted his help again-," He jabbed a finger accusingly at Athrun. "What made you decide she shouldn't be killed?"

"I've said it before too," Greyfriars repeated, saying what Athrun had convinced him of a long time ago. "If we had killed her in Orb or even on the yacht, anyone could claim they'd done it. Nobody would think we were the primary suspect to the point of being the only suspects. It's easy enough to blame others for attacks and similarly, to claim that one has orchestrated the attack when it was another party doing it. That's why she had to be kept alive."

A few looked at the empty coffin in the corner.

"Agreed," Another man said, "But now, at this point? What other use does she have for us, alive? She's a liability to us- she's already served her purpose. Why keep her alive?"

"Because alive, Orb will definitely storm Scandinavia to retrieve her." Athrun stood up now, very firmly. "Through these months, I have realized that her country makes threats but is afraid to threaten their own economy. War would disrupt so many things for them if they had the conflict just for the sake of revenge."

"I thought her death would ensure that they did storm into Scandinavia?" One man questioned.

Athrun gave him a sardonic smile as he rose to speak. "The unknown status caused Orb to go to the Galactic Courts to ask for permission to enter Scandinavia to look for her. The courts gave Scandinavia six months to produce her and an explanation. Until then, Orb cannot enter. But what if she had died and they had found out? They would definitely want an explanation, but would they have stormed into Scandinavia? No. Why investigate and search for a person who has already died and they know to have died? What would be the point?"

The silence in the room spread slowly.

"Besides that," Athrun said, his gaze and voice steady. "If she is alive, that gives them a reason to enter Scandinavia. If gives Orb a reason to ask, what is going on in that region, that required the Orb Princess to be kidnapped? And that is when you will answer that Denmark needs its independence, and that the Orb Princess had to be brought over for the world's attention to focus on a place that has drowned out your voices for so long."

Most in the room were convinced. Most were nodding. But not a few.

"Really?" One follower said doubtfully. "I don't think it's that ideal. I think it's a matter of you having grown attached to the captive and wanting to keep her alive. Wasn't that why you killed Decant Corriolis when Greyfrairs sent him there to kill her?"

Greyfriars stepped in. "It was my mistake and my hastiness then. Estragon prevented me from making the mistake of killing our trump."

"Is it that simple?" The man pressed again.

"He's in charge of our weapon and chemical productions," Greyfriars said impatiently, as a few others who'd come to support Rune Estragon nodded once more. "Even if he may not share our ideals of independence, he shares the hatred of a common enemy."

Those who had protested now fell silent. Hatred was a miraculous thing, Athrun realized. It was possibly even more unifying than love.

"He's aided so many of our operations until now," Another man spoke up for Athrun. A few nodded in approval and their support. "Surely, he must really want us to succeed, even if he doesn't have the same motivations as us?"

"He has helped us." Greyfriars said loudly. "And that is all that matters."

There were murmurs. Some were not comfortable with bringing in a person they perceived to be a businessman- a mercenary who shared none of their sentiments. Some were fine, and some were more than supportive of what Athrun had done as Rune Estragon for all of them. He'd funded them, he'd helped them acquire weapons and the chemicals they needed, and he'd even brought over the Orb Princess for their cause.

Looking around at everyone, Greyfriars called out, "I have called all of you here to give you good news today! In five days, we will have our independence! I have spoken to the new High King of Scandinavia, and he has promised that to all of us!"

For a moment, nobody at the table said anything. Then everyone was talking suddenly and there was a massive swell of noise. As Greyfriars smiled, Athrun felt a shard of panic pierce at him. He turned to the leader seated at the head of the table.

"How?" Athrun asked in disbelief. Why hadn't Greyfriars asked for his advice first? And how long ago had Greyfriars begun to keep in correspondence with the new High King and when had these plans been made?

"He has agreed to exchange our independence for the Orb Princess and the drug we have developed, with your help." Greyfriars told them all firmly.

"Won't he be able to kill all of us if he has that drug? It is meant to be used as a chemical weapon! He could wipe us all out with that powder." One demanded. "It doesn't make sense to give him all our trumps."

"We won't be giving him the real one, of course." Greyfriars looked quite satisfied with himself. "And he won't know until much later. What is the point of the trump cards if we can't get what we've always been working for?"

There were murmurs of approval everywhere now.

Athrun sat there, praying that someone would raise another point against Greyfriars. But nobody did, and Greyfrairs turned to him. "Estragon, you will be in charge of handing him the chemical weapon and the Orb Princess. At the same time, you will have your chance to have your revenge on him."

"I don't want to talk about that now," Athrun spat. He leapt out of his chair, his fist hard on the table. "This isn't what we agreed on, Greyfriars!"

There was dead silence in the room as all eyes turned to Athrun.

"What's not?" Greyfriars said dangerously.

"You weren't supposed to go and make a separate offer to the High King!" The vehemence in his tone must have been obvious, for the men began to mutter amongst themselves, whispering their private conversations with their neighbours.

"I did, and it works to our advantage." Greyfriars exhaled lowly. "My men are tired of fighting, and we don't want ot give up on our dream either. This is the best way forward for all of us. The Orb Princess was supposed to die anyway- this doesn't change anything. And you will still get your revenge on the High King, so there's no issue here."

Their eyes locked, Athrun knew what Greyfriars was thinking. Greyfriars was thinking that Rune Estragon was probably not going to be reliable as his right-hand man for long. If Greyfriars had called Rune Estragon here to silence those who protested, Greyfriars was probably going to have to silence Rune Estragon too.

Already, some followers were taking advantage of the opportunity.

One man called out, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be on Greyfriars' side?"

"I am." Athrun said with gritted teeth. "It's just that I don't think the High King is to be trusted. What if he kills the captive? What if then he turns around and blames the Orb Princess' death on this group? Orb will want to flush all of you out! He's probably going to kill her, and then he'll blame it on you."

"Why would he?" Another of Greyfriars followers asked in surprise. "I thought that he doesn't want war! He's expressed so, over and over again. If he ever harmed a single hair of the captive's head, Orb would definitely want war with Scandinavia."

The others were murmuring in agreement. Athrun could not tell them how wrong they were.

"Besides," Greyfriars pointed out, "He told me quite strongly that he didn't want Orb troops coming in here in the first place. That's why he wants to make peace quickly by returning her. He also wants the drug because he thinks it will deter Orb from making more problems in the future."

"Stop being naïve," Athrun said firmly. "The drug I've obtained and reproduced for you will be used against you and your followers. He's not trustable."

"No, he's not," Greyfriars agreed. "And that's why we aren't going to give him the real thing."

Athrun knew it was a pointless thing to create a fake drug anyway. The drugs that Alstarice Krieg had reproduced in the factories were useless, and Greyfriars would probably end up making fakes of the fake. He was more worried about the other trump that Greyfriars was planning to trade in for independence.

Greyfriars held a hand out towards Athrun. "It is time to act now. My followers, your families' deaths will not go unavenged! Estragon, bring her and a sample of the drug to me tomorrow."

Athrun felt his blood curdling but he bit back his fear and took Greyfriars' hand.

"This will be a bloodless battle from now on!" Greyfriars pumped his hand into the air. Athrun felt his fist being lifted into the air too, and his eyes narrowed. But he could not refuse here.

The room erupted in cheers, and Athrun knew he had to act there and then.

* * *

The scent of the air had the dried smell of tea leaves in it.

As he stepped into their bedroom, he could see that she had not owned the energy to have waited up for him. She had probably done so for the past few nights, and exhaustion must have claimed her this time.

As Epstein had informed him, Cagalli had suddenly taken a little ill, feeling a bit faint even though she'd denied in quite insistently. The maids had given her medication that hadn't seemed to work, for she would simply not sleep even when she closed her eyes and lay in silence for hours. In their desperation and prompted by Cagalli's own, they'd given her a careful dosage of sleeping pills.

Athrun could remember what Laplacia had told him. Apparently, Cagalli had begun working ceaselessly for the past few days, as if to distract herself from something. She'd started with the floors first, scrubbing for hours, and then moving on to the windows. She'd wiped and cleaned and dusted and mopped for hours at and end, and then she'd sparred for the rest of the day, as if the morning's session hadn't been enough.

With some sadness, Athrun knew that he would have very little time left with her now. He had already prepared what he needed, and she would be leaving very soon.

For now though, Athrun moved around slowly, looking at the traces of herself that she'd put into this bedroom. Even if he was condemned to stay here for the rest of his life, he decided, he'd try and remember her for what she'd changed about this place and him.

There was tea in the corner of the small bedside table, and Athrun knew that it was cold by now. She did not seem to have touched much of it.

He cast his eyes to the bed and saw Cagalli's silhouette moving within it.

And yet, she was supposed to be asleep.

Cagalli was tossing and turning a little, and her expression held torment and unease in it. Through the gap of the curtains, and even from her silhouette, Athrun could sense she was not sleeping well.

Wasn't the medicine working? Athrun wondered. He knew that the sleeping pills that Epstein had given her were supposed to let her rest, but those did not seem to be doing anything particularly effective. She seemed to have been induced into a deep sleep, but it was a difficult sleep. Moreover, Cagalli seemed to be plagued by the things that she would have had an escape from if she had been awake.

As Athrun came closer, he knew that she was sleeping while having a dream too. She was mumbling and saying something, and her hands were clenched. He lifted the curtain gently, looking at Cagalli. Her hair was moist with sweat and she looked a bit pale. Her lips though, were pink, and he knew that her habit of biting her lips when she felt awkward or was in distress had carried over even when she was asleep.

He ridded himself of his coat, tossing it on a chair next to the bed. As he kicked off his shoes and socks and slipped next to her, he lowered the curtains again, lying by her, watching her.

There was something fascinating about seeing Cagalli struggle in her sleep. She seemed awake for a second, asleep for the next, and there was a torment in her expression. That made him think of how weak she was but how strong she pretended to be. He wondered if he was dreaming too, and whether the vision before him would suddenly give way to darkness and the ceiling of the four-poster.

Gently, Athrun peeled away the sheets, lifting her slightly in his arms. Her scent was stronger, enclosed by the gossamer-like curtains. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her skin, and she seemed to be glimmering. Her flesh was soft, although skin felt clammy, and Athrun wondered what she was dreaming about. For an entirely unidentified, rather inexplicable reason, he felt himself grow more alert; more tense- more awake with his need.

"Cagalli," Athrun said in a low voice, "Cagalli."

He stared at her, hearing her hiss in broken gasps as she began to stiffen, then relaxed as suddenly. Her nightgown was a little damp, he realized, as he held her in his arms, and he knew she had struggled from something in her sleep.

"No-," She was shaking her head in a strangely violent if somewhat random manner. Her voice was a tiny little scrap of sound, a murmur that might have been drowned by any other sound. But he leaned close to her and he could hear Cagalli. "No- don't-, just hold-," Her voice was a cry now. "Don't go-,"

Athrun wondered if he ought to wake her up. He understood that it would take a great deal of effort to rouse her from her sleep. At the same time, Athrun knew that it would require even more sleeping pills to get her some rest if he disturbed her sleep now. He wondered what to do, for Cagalli seemed to be troubled in both her sleep and without it.

"Ath-," He watched as she called out. And troubled, Athrun placed his hands over hers, wondering why she was calling out to him in her sleep. "Athrun."

Her eyelids trembled once and her eyelashes on her cheek seemed more fine and delicate than what he'd realized they'd been in the past. Athrun stared at her, trying to decipher why she was twitching violently even when he put his arms comfortingly around her. Cagalli had always been roused quite quickly in the past, but now, she seemed to have been such a deep sleep that only she could wake herself.

"Marlin, don't-," She seemed to be sobbing, "-say that-, he's not-, I'm not trying to-to-,"

"Trying to?" He whispered. Athrun tried to shake her, but he found that his hands were weak against her shoulders.

Her eyes were fluttering open but they never really opened. "I'm not trying to run. I'll stay in Orb. Promise."

He reeled back in shock. Had she made some promise to Marlin that he didn't know about?

In her dreamlike state, Cagalli seemed weaker and more pale than ever. She was beautiful to look at still, with her lips pink and her hair tumbling onto her shoulders. Her slight fever had receded, according to what Epstein had told him. Yet, she was still warm to touch, and there was a flush on her cheeks that wasn't entirely normal.

She looked small and broken, and that vulnerability was frightening. He knew it would not do to let her sleep on.

"Cagalli," Athrun said sharply, "Wake up."

She continued to shiver in his arms, and Athrun knew that she was suffering.

He couldn't bear anymore and began to shake violently at her. He shook at her until her eyes flew open and she shuddered, gulping, struggling, then going limp as she lost all her energy.

And Cagalli seemed to awaken, but her eyes looked unfocused as he stared at her, wondering what had gone wrong in her dreams.

"You were having a nightmare." He whispered, and he knew his voice was hoarse. She tried to smile at him but it faltered, and he decided that he'd wait a little more before he did what he'd decided to carry out.

Gazing at Cagalli, Athrun decided he wanted to let her have a meal first. While there was no time to waste, she didn't look like she could withstand a journey out at sea. So he mopped her brow, placed a hesitant kiss on her forehead, and then lifted her out of the bed.

She seemed to shrink away from him, and he felt puzzlement. He had expected her to put her arms around him, but she seemed unwilling to be near him. In fact, Cagalli looked downright unhappy that she'd been woken and that he was near her. She shook away a little, looking at him with something he recognized as mistrust. It was as if he'd come home to her with another person's blood splattered on his face, or that his forehead bore the sign 'murderer'.

But Athrun had cleaned the blood off and he knew he could hide what he'd just completed over at Greyfriar's place. Some of his followers had tried to claim credit and even wanted to wrestle the leadership position away. Athrun had made Greyfriars trust him again by getting rid of those unlucky ones for Greyfriars.

"You're fine now." He told her, feeling a bit insecure himself.

She only looked at him mutely, and he noticed that she seemed to have been frozen.

Nevertheless, Athrun got her to stand. And slowly, she began to put her feet forward, like a child learning to walk for the first time. Athrun would have liked to lift her into his arms and to give her support, but Cagalli seemed fiercely resistant to that.

He fetched his coat from the chair, then flung it around her, trying to warm her up. He was half-hoping that she'd put her arms around him and beg him to stay with her. But she didn't- she began to shuffle forward, and Athrun followed after her.

"Where are you going?"

"I-," Cagalli looked at him wildly. "I need a bath."

He watched as Cagalli tugged herself loose from him and moved to the bathroom. The dogged determination of her steps and the way she seemed to be ill at ease made him sure she was not keen to return for certain reasons.

Athrun did not follow her to the bathroom although he would have liked to. He would have liked to undress her, to kiss her and then hold her. He was aching to have her against him, and he was yearning to feel her respond, but he forced himself to stay away. While he wanted to wash her and to make her feel warm and secure, he could not do that for now.

She seemed to be a caged animal- pensive and rather scared. It was best to let her try to pretend all was normal for now. Besides, it was unlikely that his being with her would solve anything she was going through mentally.

It would take more than that, Athrun decided.

So he waited for the sounds of the water to start, and then waited a little more until she finally emerged. Her hair was damp and Cagalli looked a bit woebegone in a bathrobe that had been meant for him. The sleeves were too long, she was dragging her feet, and she seemed more likely to drown in the robe than be dried by it.

She would need some warm clothing, and he would make sure she was wearing some, but he ignored her lack of proper clothes momentarily. Muttering to himself, he took her to the bed, making her lean towards him as he patted her hair dry. After a minute or two, she moved away, and he stared at her, wondering why she wanted to move off when he hadn't finished.

In the meantime, Cagalli moved to their wardrobe, taking a simple blouse and shorts out. Turning away from him, she slipped those on. The lack of light in her eyes made her expression very dull, and even when he waited for her to finish and pulled her back to him, nothing in her face changed. As he sat her before the vanity, he knew she was fighting with herself.

"Cagalli," He whispered, running a brush through her hair now. "I want you to tell me what's been going on. Why have you been working yourself so hard?"

She looked at him, unable to verbalize all that had plagued her thoughts for these few days. Then Cagalli spoke, and Athrun knew she was still a bit shaken.

"I-," She looked ready to cry. "I want some water."

He looked around, casting his eyes to the corner where the tea usually was. But as he lifted the lid, he saw that the water was cold even if untouched, and he decided not to let her have any of it. He didn't want her falling sick with a cold or anything- she needed to keep herself healthy for what he had planned ahead.

Thus, Athrun had no choice but to let her step out of the room. As she did, he followed.

Through the corridors, past a few familiar rooms, and down into the kitchen, he snuck looks at her. Her face was flushed as if she'd had a fever, and her fingers looked like they had become clamps around the coat that her shoulders bore. She'd assumed a defensive posture, putting her arms around herself, and Athrun knew she was still a bit rattled even after that bath.

And for the first time, Athrun decided to ask. "What did you dream about today?"

Cagalli did not look at him. "I can't remember."

They got into the kitchen, and he pulled a chair for her. There was nobody around, thankfully, and he busied himself getting some water for her. She did not seem to become more normal, but she hunched into the chair, curling herself up with her knees drawn up to her. In that defensive posture, Cagalli seemed to have shrank and become a lost child.

"Here." He said awkwardly, setting it down before her. He did not sit with her but began to rummage around, looking for things to cook. Athrun suddenly wanted to ensure she was fed. He wanted to regain a sense of how things were supposed to be. He took out some pasta, decided it would be a little heavy going on her, and then tossed the ingredients back.

"What would you like?" Athrun asked.

She shook her head. "Anything's fine. I'm not really that hungry."

"You've got to eat something though." He insisted. "Epstein told me your appetite's been poor these few days."

But even as he set up a fire and decided that an omelet would be good, Cagalli appeared to have become even more withdrawn.

She said nothing as he cracked the eggs, only watched dully. Her fingers were pale, clutching and holding the water she had taken only two sips of. As he began to beat the eggs, her eyes traveled to him and she began to speak. When she did however, she could not seem to verbalise her thoughts.

"Sorry." Cagalli said softly.

Not letting his hands stop, Athrun continued at his work. He did turn however, to look at her.

His eyes narrowed at her. "Why are you apologizing? Because you worked yourself to hard? Because there's something you don't want to talk about? Because your nightmares didn't stop? Because they got worse? Because the pills didn't work?"

She had the decency to flush with embarrassment, but he held no joy in seeing her discomfort. She just didn't know how to focus her anger, or where to direct it.

For a long time, Cagalli had tried to hide the emptiness in her. She'd been numbed to so much of the world. But she had lashed out wherever she could, just to remind herself that she was still the same person even when she knew she'd changed. It had seemed to work for her before, and it was all she really knew.

"What else really happened? You were calling out to a few people."

"I don't talk in my sleep," Cagalli bit back, exactly at the same time Athrun spoke.

He had been wondering when she would get to that. "You do. You did today. You did yesterday and on the past few days as well too. Epstein heard. The twins did too. You talked in your sleep. Just like what I saw today."

"Well, I never did before." She said stubbornly. "I don't quite believe you."

Athrun's gaze was firm, and he studied her quietly. "I've never asked you to talk about those things before, but I think it's better if you say what's on your mind."

"There's nothing on my mind." She answered firmly. "Nothing, in particular."

"You lie very well," Athrun said roughly, moving to her. He began taking the pot of tea from the bedside table. He drained the dregs and passed her the cup, which she took a sip off hesitantly, then put away. The way he did things so methodically and the way he seemed to state a fact made her highly unnerved.

"I'm not lying! I don't lie!" Her expression was that of panice and vehemence.

"Of course, you don't," Athrun agreed amiably. The frustration of the past few days was building up in him, but he controlled it as sufficiently as he could. Just because Cagalli was rattled didn't mean that he had the license to react in the same way. He had to calm her down, he decided. He had to make her trust him even more now, and he would have to bid farewell to her.

He took the rest of the water that she didn't seem to want anymore, drank it to clear his throat, and then turned back to her.

"You just keep secrets while avoiding the moments when you're forced to tell truths. Isn't that what it is? You try and hide it all away until you and other people forget- isn't that it?"

Her face was blanched white as she gripped the edge of the table. "You don't really know what that's like, Athrun," she hissed.

"No, I don't, sorry. I've never been put into that same situation you're in. I certainly can't say that I've ever ran from the truth like it was my own nightmare, or that I'd done everything I could and hid away from it," he said sarcastically, setting down the mug.

And Athrun looked directly at her. "I only named myself Rune Estragon and developed a new identity for fun."

She watched him move to the stove and begin to beat the eggs once more. "No! You can't say that- it's not the same thing."

As he distributed the beaten eggs in the pan, Cagalli wiped her angry tears away. Unlike his measured movements, her face held misery laced with barely contained fury.

"It's the same when you try and behave the way that a child would." He faced her calmly, tossing in some bits of tomato and chive now. "It's childish to think that you can keep pushing things away when they haunt you even in your sleep."

Cagalli shook her head as much dignity as she could muster. "I'm not a child."

Her expression was stubborn, even though she still looked miserable, huddled away in a corner like that.

"Might as well be," Athrun muttered under his breath. The omelets were cooking and the sprinklings of mushroom that he'd thrown into it were steaming quite nicely. He nodded to himself in approval, beginning to fry it more.

He got back to her with separate plates and pointed at it. The fragrance snaked into the air, but all it achieved was make her feel slightly hungry, then more dizzy and sick than she'd felt.

"Eat now. Get your strength back." Athrun ordered.

She ate a little, then shook her head wanly when he offered to serve her seconds.

"You won't feel better if you don't try." Athrun told her firmly.

Looking at him and the insistence of his expression, she reluctantly took another bite, and then began to feel herself warm up a little more. There was a kind of comfort in eating while he watched, she realised. For as Cagalli ate, Athrun seemed to be watching over her, and she felt better by the time he poured her more tea. He understood her hesitation. She wasn't comfortable with him now, because she knew that in a few days, she would have to go back without him.

But Athrun knew that she would have no choice. She was going to have to return without him and without preparing herself anyway.

Her silence made the atmosphere tense, and he saw that she was picking at her food. Clearly, her appetite had not really improved. At least though, she would eat a little and keep her energy up. She would need it, Athrun thought to himself.

So they finished in silence.

Eventually, Athrun got up, taking the plates to clear the remnants and beginning to wash. While Cagalli had never abided by waste, she seemed to be struggling to finish, and Athrun knew she was to shaken to eat beyond the purpose of sustenance. While he took out the dish-liquid and a handheld scrubber, Cagalli began to speak.

"Thank you," Cagalli said, almost reluctantly. "I've only had tea and mostly biscuits for these few days. I don't think I've eaten anything substantial much for some time now. I was too nauseous for anything else. I kept having my sleep interrupted."

"Bad memories do that," Athrun said placidly, scrubbing with an ease that covered the tension in his face. "It happens when you don't want to deal with it when you're awake. Especially when those start to hit you with full-force."

Cagalli looked at him sharply. "I didn't say that."

"Then tell me," Athrun replied, washing, then beginning to do drying of the quite dishes leisurely. It was almost as if she wasn't lashing out at him, or that her intentions to keep her dreams to herself were not registering to him.

As Cagalli stared at him, she realized that he wasn't going to give up either.

Athrun's tone was very firm. "Stop saying that it isn't this, or it isn't that. Tell me what it is. I don't know, unless you tell me. What you said yesterday gives me enough to guess, but I don't want to have to guess anymore."

"It wasn't anything." She said numbly.

"Then what were you muttering about to James Marlin?"

Her eyes grew wide and she tried to stand from her chair to take the mugs to him, trying to retain her normality. But she stumbled backward, falling over the chair, one cup smashed against the table as she knocked into its corner.

Athrun rushed to her side, but she only looked at him fearfully, with apologies dying on her lips as her face turned pale.

"No- leave that alone," He told Cagalli, grabbing her away from the broken mugs. "You stay here- don't try and do anything-,"

She took no notice of him even while he pulled her away. Her voice was a stammer. "I'm sorry- I just-,"

Athrun knelt beside her sprawled form, careful to avoid the glass chips. He shook his head and pulled her up to her knees as well, getting her away from the mess she'd created. "I said, leave that alone!"

His raised voice made her look at him finally. Cagalli had been shook by his sudden flare of anger and desperation, and her eyes were wide as she gazed at him. Mutely, he took her hands and put them to his chest.

"Don't hide it from me." He said quietly.

"I can't say." Her voice was shaky. She tried to gather up some pieces but he slapped her hands away, shaking his head and telling her to ignore it. He began to kiss her fingers, kissing them as they trembled and her body seemed to become tinier and more shrunken.

"Don't hide anything from me. Not anymore." Athrun was whispering now, and she shifted against him. Fiercely, he pressed at her back, forcing her to stay close to him.

Heedless of what he was saying, Cagalli looked away, still trying to move apart from him. Her vision was swimming in tears but she held those back fiercely, attempting to smile and tell him that she needed to clear the things. But he grabbed her face in his hands, watching tears roll from her eyes, and swiftly, Athrun wiped those away.

"I was dreaming of Marlin." She told him softly, hesitantly. "He asked me about you in the past. He asked me whether I remembered you."

Athrun did not have to hear her say anymore to know how she'd answered. He pulled her into his arms again. "Doesn't matter anymore."

"I don't want to go back to Orb." Cagalli admitted shakily. "I don't know what more they want of me."

"Kira needs you back there." Athrun told her. "Orb needs you back there. You know what will happen if you don't go back, don't you?"

"But I don't want to care anymore." She sobbed. "I'd rather just go to sleep forever and never wake up- as long as I can stay here in peace."

"You can't." He said mechanically. "You don't belong here."

Cagalli knew that what he was saying was true. But at the same time, she knew that going back to Orb would be difficult for her now. How was she expected to be apart from him, she wondered, when he'd taught her to open herself and to be honest with him? How would she live without that expectation he'd taught her to have, and how would she live with that hope that she wanted so much more of now?

She turned on him with anger suddenly. "It's your fault isn't it? You should have let me go back- you shouldn't have told me all you'd done for me-,"

He stared at her helplessly, knowing where her outburst was stemming from. Suddenly, all that Yzak had predicted was coming true. Her presence here had not been authorized when he'd taken her here without her permission. But that wasn't even the most problematic issue. It was the fact that he'd done so many things he wasn't supposed to do- tell her of what was happening outside, tell her of what Plant's intelligencers did here on the Isle and the nature of the people who'd been brought here.

He had tried to think of her as Cagalli for some time. But now, he knew that she would always be the Orb Princess and that as the Orb Head, the information he'd given her, along with what he'd encouraged them both to lose themselves in, would ruin them both. Cagalli would never be able to return to Orb and be the same now.

She would not belong to him once she went back to Orb. There was still someone else waiting for her back there, and she would be in a marriage that Orb had much to gain from. Marlin would never know that he, Athrun Zala, existed and not just as a fugitive. But Marlin would still have Cagalli.

And yet, there was no regret in his thoughts.

"It's my fault." Athrun admitted. "But I'm still glad I did what I did."

Her face crumbled as he stroked the tears away.

"I want to kiss you right now," Athrun whispered. "Is that horrid of me?"

Cagalli gulped visibly, although she tried to smile quite valiantly. "Is it horrid that I'd like you to?"

He pulled her into a kiss, pressing her to him, suddenly inattentive of the glass and the way she had been pulled to him, her palms on the floor, her body on its fours. It didn't matter that her face was moist from tears and that she suddenly became resistant and tried to fight him. He touched his tongue to hers, sliding over it, easing his lips onto hers and Athrun felt Cagalli tilt her head unconsciously when she tried to move away.

Her hands wound their way through his hair, trying to pull his lips away. In retaliation, one of his hands settled comfortably and even lazily on her, as if he knew he didn't need to demand or to establish ownership. As he fondled one lush breast, his other hand began cradling the back of her head gently, giving her the balance they required as he did all but devour.

Her cries of protest as she tried to control him were numbed by her own decision, and Athrun felt himself tremble with the agony he had to hide from her. His thumb located her sensitive point and brushed across her in the careless circles of a tender touch, making her gasp beneath his mouth and arch herself.

"Don't fight me, Cagalli." He told her between breaths. "Don't. You gave yourself to me, remember? You told me that you belonged to me. Say it again. Tell me."

She pulled herself away abruptly, face white but her lips pink and swollen. "Oh, Haumea. I _can't_. I can't do this and hope to leave you- why didn't I think of it then? Why didn't I realize how painful it would be to be near you and then have to leave? I shouldn't have let this happen."

"No," Athrun said, shaking his head. "That's not true."

"I felt that I didn't even know you at times," Cagalli admitted, "And even then, I wanted to have you. Was that wrong? I mean, I actually wondered what it would be like to be with you, even if it was only physically and for a few hours-" Cagalli's eyes were unable to meet his and she colored, looking down.

He grinned, his smile spreading slowly- genuine and candid. It arched into a smirk and she shivered, finding herself still affected by him. "Lovely. Because I want you in my bed right now. All the way through sunset and right up until sunrise, preferably."

She stared at him, mouth falling open and her expression stunned. "It's in the middle of the afternoon, Athrun."

"I wasn't joking," Athrun replied, kneeling at her side. He bent down slightly, if only to ensure that his arms were around and framing her securely. He wound a hand in her hair, tugging a little at the fistful of gold he'd captured. "I want you now." He leaned further down as he spoke, and she shivered. "I need you with me, right now. I want you calling my name. Either one, I don't care which it is anymore. I don't care if you think of me as any person or if I am another person as long as you want _me_." He kissed her cheek. "Is it so impossible today?"

"Yes," she whispered, frightened by the intensity in his gaze. She tried to pull herself away, except that she was powerless against him.

He took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently. "Here or on my bed, Your Grace?" he asked teasingly. He licked the delicate whorl of her ear's outer shell, and she shivered. "Do they call you that? Or Princess? Or-,"

"Cagalli," she whispered desperately, interrupting him by grabbing his collar. "Don't you dare call me anything except that."

"Promise," Athrun told her in return. He pulled back and promptly rose to his feet. For a second, they did not speak, but she swallowed, looking away because she could not hold his gaze, and it was enough for Athrun to find conviction in what he wanted. "Come with me."

She looked terrified, as terrified as he had seen her when he'd caught her in his study. "What?"

"We're going back to our room."

"Hey- wait, I-," Cagalli was spluttering, and he was amused by her sudden awkwardness. "I didn't say I agreed to this-,"

As they entered the bedroom with him hauling her in, she held up her hands helplessly.

"You're kidding! I can't! I won't!"

He only locked the door. Then Athrun grasped her face in his hands and kissed her breathless to quell her protests again. If he had hoped she would plunge into this dare as she always had for others in the past to regain her confidence, then he realized that he would have to coax her into it now. Athrun worked her blouse loose, his fingers finding bare skin. He touched her gently, reverently, tracing queerly irregular, odd geometric patters. She shuddered, and yet she shook her head.

Then Athrun pushed the blouse off her shoulders and moved to kiss her jaw, neck and then her breasts. He wanted her undressed for now- he wanted to change her into something more suitable for a long journey.

"Don't. I can't," Cagalli whispered. His cheek was soft against her, and his hands found her now, pressing and stroking. As she tumbled to the ground with him, he rolled her above him, putting her in the dominant position.

"Yes, you can," he murmured against her skin as he moved to her other breast. He drew her in strongly, roughly now, and she squirmed in equal parts of pleasure and discomfort. "You're going to. Even if you think you need to spend time getting used to being away from me, I'm going to show you that there's better things to do with your time."

"Stop," she gasped, grasping his shoulders and trying to move away but being unable to. "Don't."

He moved his hands back up to her sides, daring her to protest. Wildcat that she was, she actually dared to.

"You've got to stop," Cagalli whispered desperately, trying to push herself off him but failing each time. "We can't do this anymore- I have to learn how to be apart from you- I'm not-,"

He liked that her thoughts had become fractured, for it would be far easier for her to forget her fears and only act now. He liked that she was half-afraid and half-resistant but her body was reacting very nicely to his. Moreover, her breath was coming in shallow, almost negligible gasps and Athrun enjoyed it.

He realized that he liked the way her hands beat helplessly and fluttered nervously at his shoulders, unsure of what to do even as he increased the insistence of his ministrations. He found that he liked unsettling her as much as he liked letting her fall asleep comfortably in his arms; unsettling her in the way he was being rough, the way her mouth parted in pleasure and a faint rise of a blush began in her cheeks, the color spreading and blossoming under her skin.

He moved to her waist again, and pulled her shorts down promptly. The shorts would never help her last in cold weather. Athrun caught her mouth with his again, feeling her bite him and try to draw away, except that he accepted the slight bud of pain with satisfaction. Then he slipped his hand between her folds, daring her to respond by nipping into her neck.

"You can't," she whispered, horrified.

He left her breasts and kissed his way down, pulling her around him as he settled into her mandatory embrace. Almost merrily, he threw the crumpled pieces of clothes to the floor, smiling amusedly at her."Look, you have two choices. Let me do this or let you be in charge."

Her eyes widened and she looked rather jumpy.

"Come to think of it," Athrun mused, "I think you better be in charge. Go on. It'll help you feel more in control."

Not knowing how to refuse and not knowing what else she could do in this situation, Cagalli obeyed the command, looking very lost and unsure of herself. She began to lift his shirt off him, and he allowed her too. Then she bent a little while they sat on his bed, undoing his belt. Feeling a little sorry for her, Athrun pressed his lips to her forehead, then knelt assuredly in front of her. "It's going to be all right, Cagalli. You have to believe me."

"No, it won't be," she whispered in return. "I can't do this anymore, Athrun."

He kicked off the last of his clothes in a manner that suggested growing impatience, and then he brought both of them off the bed.

He led her to the mirror and turned her to face it. It was the same one that he'd made her stand before all that time ago. Then he stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, then sliding to her arms, lifting those around his neck and head as he transferred his hands back to her chest.

Cagalli was ghostly pale and trembling as she took in her reflection. "I can't do this," she whispered, eyes watering. "I can't hold you, because I have to think of a way to get you back to Orb. I can't waste my time enjoying myself here when I need to be doing other things."

"Yes, you can." He told her firmly. "You've let me do this before- I don't want you to forget anything. If you leave alone, Cagalli, then at least you'll remember what we last did before you left."

He began to stroke her, and she bit back her little moans of pleasure, trying to move away still. "I want to watch you, Cagalli."

"Don't do this. This is cruel," she begged. "How could you say that? How can you want to watch me beg for you when you know that I will never be able to regain you once I go back?"

Athrun slid his other hand between her thighs, fingertips brushing over her. "How? Because I'm selfish, and I have the right to be. Are you saying it's cruel that I make you love me even if I can't go back there? Because I want you to see yourself with me before you leave for Orb? Because I want you to see what you look like when you come so that you'll think of me every night?" He nipped her ear gently, playfully, and met her eyes in to the mirror as his fingers found her wet slit. "It's not cruel. It's what we both want."

Cagalli felt his hands searing into her flesh and she made a series of tiny cries, muted by his kisses as his mouth captured hers, her breasts soft in his roughly-seeking hands. He seemed to be consumed by a frustration that she recognized vaguely, and he hugged her with an angry desperation that he was barely concealing.

"What is it?" She panted, feeling him lower her on the ground even while she tried to sit up. He stared at her, his eyes stormy and his mouth parted slightly in his breathlessness too. "What do you want of me now?"

He responded by burying his face in her chest, pushing her to lie down as he hugged her, not caring about her quavering pleads or her little gasps and her questions of why he'd been wounded. Her eyes were half-lidded as he kissed her, and her fingers found his cheeks as she stroked his face.

"No-," Cagalli pleaded now. "Don't let me go back alone."

Cagalli had never looked more heart-wrenchingly lovely, Athrun realized, with her eyes wide and her expression a little bewildered in its innocence. He couldn't bear to see her look like that at him, but he knew there was only one way now.

He kissed her gently. He thought of the clothes he'd prepared while she'd taken her bath. Those ought to be warm enough, Athrun decided. There was the food and things she'd need, all in a suitcase that had been loaded into the yacht already. She would have no time to say goodbye, but then, those things mattered little now when her life was in danger.

"Close your eyes. Trust me." His voice was gentle and very persuasive.

She did as he asked, too tired to think, too weary to protest and too worn down to try to fight anymore. As Athrun held her in his arms, he dug into his pocket, taking a syringe. Without a single pause or moment of hesitation, he injected the tranquiliser into her, watching Cagalli's eyes snap open in shock, fear and realization.

But then she fell limp in his arms and the deed was complete.

* * *

5 days.


	27. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please._

**A/N: Dear readers/reviewers, sorry for the delay but thank you for being faithful readers/reviewers! Handling multiple research projects and camping at the library just isn't good for either of us. For those who were wondering when this story will end, my answer is that it's not soon but very soon. 3 more chapters, in fact. So here goes!**

* * *

Chapter 26

* * *

There was the scent of salt and the familiar but incongruent feeling that the floor was swaying. The world was dark but there was nothing uncomfortable- the warmth of the blankets made her feel more secure than she knew she ought to feel. There was someone next to her.

That was his hand, the soft sensation of their fingers stroking at her cheek. She was sufficiently warm and his hands seemed a little cold to feel.

She opened her eyes a little and in her confusion, she wanted to continue to pretend that she was asleep. With the crack of her eyelids, Cagalli could tell where she was. For that matter, the swaying motions were present. Those existed even within what she did not recognize as his arm's circumference at first. But everything told her enough about where she was.

The bed was a different one that she hadn't expected to see, and it was not a four-poster that the one in their room was. When had she been brought here? And why was she in a cabin of Athrun's yacht? No doubt, it was the same one she had always stayed in when he had brought her to the sea- the same cabin that he'd moved into on their second trip. But there was no reason why she was supposed to be here when the last she could recall was that he'd cooked for her and that they'd gone back to their room.

It was all a little hazy, and her mind was feeling too heavy for her to control her thoughts. Each of those slipped off from the main direction she was trying to recall things in. Once, Aaron had given her a gorgeous antique music box that she'd placed in her modern office- next to the coffee-machine and the multi-purpose fax. Suddenly, it seemed that even she was an anachronism at this point.

She strained her neck a little, almost unconsciously, except that she had done it to confirm he was near her. It was disconcerting, and it was even more so, since she'd been roused from a very good, undisturbed and entirely deserved sleep. To wake and to see him while knowing they were not where they were supposed to be- that was something she didn't want to deal with.

But that strange zone between consciousness and sleep was clearing into that of the former. Besides, there was no way Cagalli could fool herself into thinking that Athrun wasn't aware that she was awake.

She would have preferred it if she could though- it would have prevented her from having to think and to look at him. Still, in the absence of choice, she opened her eyes fully to watch Athrun. He had been observing her long before that, Cagalli knew. Those familiar eyes had always made her think of forests with that particular shade she hadn't quite seen anywhere. But if the connection had been a normal one, an even clichéd one if you like, she'd never noticed how deep his eyes really were. Truthfully, she hadn't thought of his eyes as forests for the sole resemblance of the color. Forests never seemed to have an end or bottom, and little emerged into the light from the foliage.

She looked at him, painfully aware that he had not given her a choice. It would have been foolish of her to have not known in the minute that he'd taken her consciousness, that he was leaving her.

"How are you feeling?" Athrun asked quietly.

Cagalli didn't know how to respond.

Physically, her temples were throbbing a little and her entire body felt sore. There was a strange feeling to her body though- as if she'd suffered some battery and then been anesthetized so that the pain was only a memory even if not a real sensation. Emotionally, she felt more than that.

Oddly enough, she was fully dressed in pants and a soft shirt. It was the sort she recalled training in- the kind which allowed easy, swift movement. She tried to be objective, wondering what was going on, wondering why Athrun had bothered dressing her and bringing her here.

Cagalli did not dare to twitch her fingers and move her hands or even arms as she sat up slowly. Had she been straining herself for so long? But as she tried to recall what the past few days' activities had been, Athrun began to kiss her.

Up to that point, Athrun had been lying next to her, his face turned towards her. She was reminded of how overjoyed she'd been on those mornings when she'd drifted out of her sleep to open her eyes and see him looking back at her. As he kissed her cheek softly, Cagalli moved away, turning her back to him. He was pleading with her silently- she knew that. But how could she hear him out when she didn't even dare to confirm what she suspected he was doing? If she had been aware of his presence before, now she did not want to be.

He froze, and for those moments, Cagalli wasn't sure if she ought to feel relieved or now. They were both quite aware that she'd never refused him after a point, when they'd agreed that there was only one way to come to terms with themselves. But now, she was refusing him.

He watched as she sat up, her back facing him. He remained silent as she shifted away from him, her expression hidden but that of awkwardness nonetheless.

For now, her instincts made her pretend she wasn't aware of anything. As she got up, observing the familiar cabin that Athrun had shared with her during their time on this yacht together, Cagalli knew everything was incongruent with what she wanted to believe in.

"You used the tranquilizer, didn't you?" Cagalli questioned. She did not want to turn back to look at him, knowing that she would be unable to without showing her weakness and the tears again. She did not want him to despise her as much as she did.

"Yes." He told her. What else could he say? "I had to get you here. I had to put you in proper clothes so that it wouldn't be too cold for you out here."

She paled and turned back to him, unable to accept how directly he was telling her of the suspicions that she'd had. "What? I thought there were a few more days until-,"

"But you knew this day had to come." Athrun interrupted her. The intent in his gaze made him seem cruel, but she knew enough about him to realize that like her, he was trying to control himself. "Sooner or later."

"You picked sooner." Her tone was accusing.

"I didn't have a choice." He said simply.

"Because it was never an option in your mind?" She lashed out.

He understood her anger. For now, he would take it upon himself and hide it in the crevices of his mind. All because he knew where her hurt was from, Athrun knew he would have to aggravate her even more for her to leave.

But for Cagalli, his apparent lack of ability to berate her back for her accusation and his lack of explanation as to justify his decisions made her feel even more disconcerted.

Athrun swallowed his grief. "Keeping you here indefinitely was never an option I had the luxury of choosing."

She stared at him, far more betrayed by his submission to what he deemed his lack of an alternative. She wished he'd blame her and lash back at her- tell her it was her own weakness to change the decisions she'd made in the past, tell her that she'd determined their present and not he.

"Did you ever think of the future when I was with you?" She said in a small voice. In that moment, she knew how weak they both really were.

He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself. "No."

In that moment, she knew what it meant to be sick and maddened with burden, and she knew what it meant to be helpless where time was concerned. He knew it too. Too much had passed since they'd been in love and there was only so much human effort could do.

And that was when Cagalli got off the bed.

It took something of a second for her to make her move. He had been stunned by her abrupt movements, but he got up too, trying to catch her back.. There was Athrun's hand narrowly missing her shoulder as he instinctively reached to restrain her.

But she flung open the door and bolted down the passageway, faster than she had ever run in her life, and faster than he'd expected her to. She was dashing forward, past those corridors she'd come to know, running with all she could muster. Her vision was blurred around the edges, and her body was protesting in its sluggishness, but she knew she'd had a head start.

She had a pretty good guess as to what he was doing. He had set the yacht on an auto-pilot course back to Orb.

She ran, barefooted, not caring that the floor was rough against her soles. And Cagalli pushed past the familiar corridors. If she maintained her will, the bridge room seemed nearer than it really was. Simultaneously, he was calling out, yelling for her to stop, and a semi-comical thought struck at her. The ridiculousness of the situation, the childishness of it all- hadn't they left that behind at one time?

Her heart was beating strongly in her ears, but Cagalli knew that Athrun was following behind her, some distance behind.

Still, he was catching up, and his speed was not something she could fight against. If she could just make it however, there would be some hope.

Her feet were barefooted, pounding on the cold floors. The wind was all around them and there was rain pouring down- rain that sliced at her cheeks and wet her hair.

At a turn, she slipped, her soles unable to grip on the slippery planks. Her hands hit the floor hard, as did her knees, but she got up and ran still. The bruising of her knees would not deter her.

Athrun was right behind her, and she knew he had seen her stumble. Cagalli could hear him shouting still, but she couldn't stop to care. Without any more thought, she darted into a corridor, trying to open the door of the bridge. But he'd caught up to her and he whirled her around, their weights making them halt in a very clumsy manner.

In that instant, he was slamming her back against the door. The force was a jolt to her- the way she would expect a person to come back to consciousness quite suddenly with the shock of the forceps.

She was pale, and her eyes was flashing with anger and desperate defiance. Her physical discomfort seemed to be felt only by him, for she was oblivious to the strain of her body from the sudden attempt to get to the bridge.

"I told you to stop," He said breathlessly. "Are you hurt?"

He began checking her for bruises and the usual injuries one would expect from a fall. But she swatted his hands away, trying to turn and get into the bridge room again. She was so flustered she didn't realize he had beaten her to it a long time ago and locked it. She was yanking on the door's handle, trying to open it, begging it to open, not caring that he was watching her as if he'd known how it would turn out even while holding her in his arms.

"Open," She begged. She wasn't looking at him, still beseeching the door to to pen as it might have had if some kind of magic word had been the key to all of this. If only she could open it, she'd find a way for both of them. Why wasn't it opening? "Open please-,"

"Stop it." He told her in a low voice. "You're not going anywhere."

She ignored him, still pulling hard on the door in a manner that suggested that it could possibly and quite probably break off in her hands if she kept at it.

The handle did feel a bit loosened, and she was encouraged by this even though a more rational thought would be that if the handle broke, she'd never be able to get in except through smashing the door. But she was not in the mood to think calm thoughts.

Then Athrun took her hands and forced them against the sides of her head, saying, "I told you to stop it!"

"I'm not going back there yet." Cagalli declared, trying to shake his grip loose. Like him, she was panting and her breath was misty in the cold air. "I'm not leaving yet! We're going back to the Isle now. I'm not going to Orb!"

He faced her with more insistence than either of them thought he'd be able to muster. "You have to."

"Then I want you to come back with me." She demanded. She finally managed to pull her hands loose and grabbed at his collar, shaking him slightly. "You said you'd keep me with you, Athrun-,"

Athrun smiled a little, but it did not warm his face. She thought of any empty scarecrow, solid but filled with straw and with hollowed tunnels for eyes and a mouth- human to look at but without anything inside it.

"I can't let you stay on the Isle for any longer. Don't forget about the reality of our situations. You've always been the one to remind us, and it would be unfair for you to forget it now. You're the Orb Princess."

The blankness of his face told her everything she needed to go on for their sakes. He did not believe in what he was telling her.

"I'm human too." Cagalli shot back. "Of all things, I'm human. You showed me that."

"No." Athrun said. There he was, matching her furiousness with his measured voice, and it riled her even more, as if he'd dug under her skin with his nails while pretending that nothing was wrong. She'd watched classmates take their fingernails and run it in screechy orchestras across blackboards while the other winced- the culprits seemed immune to what they were doing. She felt like he'd done the same, except this was more than a childish joke and she felt more than a simple annoyance.

"You're going to have to go back without me."

"What are you saying?" She demanded. She was still holding onto his collar, and she shook him, almost like they were men who were about to embroil in a bar-brawl. Faces close, her voice was louder than it had to be and her stance was of more than aggression. It was reminiscent of an animal seeking a fight. Of course, he seemed to ignore that.

"Why can't you come back with me? I know you've got your duties with Plant and Zaft's intelligence council. But we'll figure something out. Don't tell me that I should just forget everything!"

"Maybe that would be better." He muttered, thinking of what he had planned. She was already in the thick of that, even if Cagalli scarcely recognized it. He loosened her fingers from his shirt and held her wrists in either hand, pressing her against the door to affirm his insistence.

With their bodies and faces close, she could recognize his scent. It invaded her memories and shaped them into that which she held onto fiercely. It was a matter of instinct now, and it was a matter of her will over his restraint.

"Look, if you're going to make me go back to Orb," Cagalli swore, her hands not free but her stubbornness very apparent, "I'm telling the Elders to call off the engagement with Marlin. It's all a political game anyway- I don't want to be part of it."

Athrun wondered if Marlin would ever look at her again and be able to accept her betrayal. "I'm not sure Marlin would be happy to hear you call your marriage a mere political game. He loves you, Cagalli, and I daresay he can give you everything that I can't. You know that."

"I don't need anything more!"

She was fighting against his grip, trying to get to him, trying to make him listen to her. It was beginning to occur to Cagalli that Athrun didn't understand even half of what was going back on in Orb with concerns to Marlin.

At the same time, Cagalli was beginning to realize that to Athrun, the smokescreen of the engagement and impending marriage was very real. He didn't know better, and Cagalli had never explained what had truly gone on. In his mind, returning her to Orb was the same as cutting everything off with she bit back her urge to explain, more desperate to convince him to go back with her.

He however, stood his ground. "You have to go back and face him. Whether you marry him or not, you still have to go back to Orb."

"It's not a real marriage!" Cagalli insisted, so upset she might have stamped her foot quite childishly. She glared at him, not caring what Athrun still misunderstood about the whole spate of events with Marlin.

To Cagalli, the marriage was a matter of a ploy she'd used against Athrun even while her supporters used against other political rivals and the Council of Elders back in Orb.

"Come back with me," Cagalli urged. "We can explain to the Elders what's really going on. They'll accept it and I can find a way to tell Orb that for these six months, I was very severely injured by the terrorists. They'll be flushed out of Scandinavia by their own government, and Orb won't have to wage a war against Scandinavia. I'll issue another citizenship document to Ko soon- you take the one I personally approved first. I'll tell them that you found me injured in Scandinavia and looked after me, and that's why I decided to give you a chance to come back to Orb to clear the past doubts."

Athrun shook his head again. "So you were planning what to do when you went back to Orb all this time?"

Cagalli's obstinate expression told him that she'd been planning more than that. He was suddenly quite surprised that he'd not seen this coming. Like him, Cagalli had been planning too. But there were things she was not aware of, and those were the things he had to protect. He could not go back to Orb. Nor could she- there were people that Greyfriars must have stationed there by now to kill her if she managed to return.

"You're going to have to go back- whether you still want to carry out your engagement fully or not." Athrun told her.

She flared up, as was her way.

"Are you expecting me to leave you here and to forget everything? Are you asking me to pretend that I don't know how it feels like to have you with me?"

Athrun nodded. "Yes, I think."

Her expression of incredulity morphed into one of rage. Baffled, she looked at him, boring holes through the paper of his mask. "What are you saying, Athrun?"

"Do you expect the Orb Elders to give me the green light?" Athrun demanded, losing a little of his control. While he was saying all this to hide the real and more pressing reasons why he could not go back to Orb, Athrun was intensely aware that all he was telling her was the truth too.

"It was so long ago," Cagalli protested. "And if I explain what really happened when the Seirans had you framed. Please- I promise I won't let anything or anyone hurt you. I would come clean with my part in how you were framed by the Seirans, even if-,"

He shook his head, his voice harsher than he had intended. "I don't want you to do that- it's not worth it-"

"I'd protect you," She said brashly, wanting him to believe her no matter what. "I'd protect you and you'd never have to live in secret any more,and-,"

Athrun interrupted her with a shake of his head. "Not just that. The Zala name's more of a social liability these days than my father would have ever predicted. I can't walk in there with your hand in mine and tell them that we're as good as married."

"Look," Cagalli said sharply, "I wouldn't care even if you were the spawn of some lunatic-cum-social menace."

"Most accurate description of my father that I've heard," He said, almost in a deadpanned manner. It might have lightened everything, except that it was the truth and that it drove home his point.

Cagalli glared at him. "This isn't about your father or your name and past! Can't you see what I'm saying? I'm saying that I wouldn't give two hoots about anything that didn't change how I felt about you! If I had ever cared about your father being a bit crazy and infecting you with that, I wouldn't have slept with you, would I?"

He smiled wryly, but his expression softened. "I know that. But thank you."

Why, she wondered, did she feel that terrible, grinding ache of something in her? Now, as he gazed at her, the words lingering in her mind and on his lips, she thought of the sounds of creaking chains. There was that awful, gnawing ache of something that had nearly rusted but still functioned when a key was put to it. Why did he make her feel like this when there wasn't even an apology or even an attempt to kiss and make up with the way he was treating her?

"But that isn't the issue either." Athrun reminded her. "I'm finally allowing you to go back to Orb."

"After you got me into your bed, that is." Cagalli muttered. She looked at him with an expression he recognized as a determination that charged through her every pore. She seemed to radiate with indignity for a second, then smolder into cinders as she seethed. "The hell I'm going to let you ship me back now."

Athrun chuckled. He gazed at her and the way she was pressed against the door while being still so full of fire and spirit. "I didn't mean it that way, so stop being so bristly. I'm just saying that you're free now. You can go back and return to a life you've been pining for. Nothing happened between us."

His voice became a murmur, that familiar one which was so persuasive and calm- so gentle and steady that she almost believed him. "You can forget. You will."

He might have been a snake-charmer, really. He didn't even require a flute. Or perhaps a hypnotist. He didn't even need some two-bit pendent. She'd always been fooled by that voice- that tone. He'd use it when he'd gotten her to lie on her stomach while he traced his name over and over again on her back. He was using it now. He had used it in the past; to calm her when she'd been numbed by her shock; used it to lure her into making love to him even when they had been in the midst of talking about serious things. Come to think of it, he'd used that voice when things got too serious for him to want to discuss.

"I don't think I can forget." Cagalli said shakily.

"You can." He said softly. "You just have to try. The world around you will help you."

That voice was her enemy now. He'd use it to distract her every time she came close to learning something about him- something that he hadn't wanted to open himself to yet. If they were lying together, talking, and she asked him questions he didn't want to answer, he'd only have to tell her that it didn't matter in that soft, steady voice, and she'd be his fool all over again.

She'd be in his hands; twisted around his little finger, loving him even when it was clear how easily he could manipulate her in so many little ways. It only took a word from him for her to smile or to feel like crying, a single gaze from him to blush- it wasn't fair. He knew he could persuade her very easily and he was trying to do it now. It had happened so many times, hadn't it?

"You want normality. Returning to Orb will give you that, because the Isle won't exist anymore in time to come. Go back to Orb and forget."

Cagalli listened, shaking her head. She stared intently at him.

He'd tell her lies with that voice. She had been so used it to that she might have simply given up with the way he was telling her that she could forget. In so many ways, it would have been easier if she had left it at that, except that she knew it was wrong and that he was lying to her.

"That's bull." She said fiercely. "How would you know what's normality back on Orb?"

"I've seen the way you can live for yourself."

"That was what I had to do to sustain myself." Cagalli said bitingly. "But here, you gave me another way to live, and now you want me to unlearn that and go back to Orb? You want me to marry some other man and clean forget everything?"

It was enough to make something in him rise. Was it anger or sorrow or even jealousy? He didn't even know anymore. But he knew she was provoking him and trying to convince him to let her turn the ship back. He could not do that- he was counting on her to carry out the last of his plans for them both.

"That's enough from you." Athrun said in a low voice. "You know I can't stand the thought of that- you want to make me turn this ship back. But you know I have to accept it- we can't run from reality now."

And so, ignoring her protests and her efforts to pull free, he dragged her back to the cabin, cursing under his breath at how she struggled and how they'd become drenched, thanks to her efforts to run to the bridge.

He had no time or any spare hands to close the door, but deposited her on the bed hastily. She was still trying to fight him and return to the bridge, and with some desperation, he dug into his pocket, brought forth the cuffs he'd rightly suspected he would need, and chained her wrists to the bedposts.

Cagalli was either distracted in her cries to let her return to the bridge, or he'd managed it so swiftly that all she could do was to struggle after that. There was no way that she could escape from this room now, and there was no way that she could return to the Isle.

"Let me go, Athrun! How dare you-?"

"You made me do this." He told her sharply, moving off the bed and watching as she strained, her eyes slit with outrage.

"I made you do this?" Cagalli sputtered, her fingers like individual arms, trying to flail at him because her arms couldn't. She watched him drag a chair to the foot of the bed, straddling it and observing as she struggled some more. "The gall of you, Athrun-,"

While the cuffs were padded, she was being too violent for her to refrain from hurting herself. From the looks of it though, the cuffs would hold her there for as long as he needed. He wondered if he ought to use another tranquiliser.

"Listen good." Athrun told her. "In seven hours, this yacht will reach Orb. You're going back there."

"What about you?"

Where was this hopefulness coming from, and why was she being a fool?

"I'm going now. There's the safety boat I can use."

"No!"

He negated her response with his curt nod. "Face it, Cagalli."

"I don't care what you say about the real world and all that I have to return to." She said firmly. Suddenly, the pain in her didn't matter. If she was going to have to return to her childhood and convince him that she deserved something, she would do it. He would surely give in, like her father, if she was persistent enough.

Granted, she wasn't standing before him and being the most logical or well-reasoned person now. But surely, some things were not meant to be based on pure reason? Hadn't their relationship started without a single reason too? Surely, she could persuade him to go back to Orb with her. It wasn't a matter of reason- it was simply her will against his reluctance.

Unlike her father, Athrun would never look at her and tell her that her assumptions were wrong. If in the past, she'd assumed she was the same as every other child and therefore deserved to go to school, her father had told her otherwise. But Athrun would never tell her that she was not like any other person who deserved a stab at what so many believed to be found only in the pages of written romance.

"Athrun," She said softly, aware she was wheedling in a manner that he was usually susceptible to. "Let me go back to the Isle. Or say you'll come back with me to Orb."

He said nothing, only looked at her. But she was still confident.

He'd tell her that she wasn't like the others, but he'd never insist she was the Orb Princess the way her father had reminded her . He'd surely tell her that she was _his_ person, and that he'd come with her. She would earn him- she would get him at last, and at all costs. It made sense, didn't it? She'd refused him despite wanting him so much, and now that she finally had him, she would beg if she could make him stay.

"You can't go back to the Isle." He said. His eyes regarded her stonily. "You can't go back there ever again."

Her voice grew stronger, and she was so sure that she could convince him there and then. She was so sure that Athrun, as with her father, would believe what she was saying and settle for a compromise eventually. He would surely agree at last, and then he would see that it had been the right decision. "You don't want me back at the Isle? Alright, I'll give that to you. But you're coming back to Orb with me, and I'm going straight to arrange an audience with the Elders. And if they say you're not right for Orb, I'll tell them to stuff it because you're right for _me_."

He said nothing and her will wavered for a second.

"Or do you-," Her voice faltered. "Do you want something in exchange for me to go back to the Isle?"

How strange it was. When had they started exchanging tiny secrets in the past for her to try and escape the Isle, and when had she decided she would do the same to stay? When had they started to tell each other of their stories after they'd loved completely and even excessively?

But as she looked at Athrun, she knew all that didn't matter. The point was that they'd driven themselves forward and now, something was coming to a pause; a permanent cease- something of a wound mechanism speeding forward and then inevitably coming to and end.

"I know what you're doing, Cagalli, and I assure you that it won't work." Athrun's wry chuckle made her think of the father who'd stood at his desk, listening to a child trying to bargain with him. "I'm assuring you now that compromises, appeals and threats will not work with me. You're going to have to move on- whether you like it or not."

She hissed in anger, so worn by her frustration and her inability to express her wrath otherwise. "That's the same mistake I made when I asked Meyrin Hawke to look after you for me, damn it! You know how stupid that mistake was, and here you want to try and do it after showing me it was pure fallacy and presumption! You told me you couldn't give someone to another person, but here you are, doing it! Athrun, you liar!"

"Hold it," He interrupted, "I wasn't lying- I-,"

"Yes, you are!" Cagalli said loudly, tears beginning to prick at the back of her eyes because of her hurt pride. "And you're a liar too! You made another promise, remember? Or did you forget once I let you undress me? You said that you'd keep me by your side and you promised that you'd never let me go."

Athrun's smile was small and bitter, for he was thinking of the consuming, mad passion of the way they'd spent their times and their emotions. "The context then-,"

"The context is not relevant to what we are in right now." Cagalli insisted. "Or are you saying that you only wanted me with you when we were in bed?"

"Stop it," Athrun said, turning very pale and standing up with such haste that the chair fell to the floor. Like Daphne, he stood there, rooted as a tree disguised from a pursuer would have remained. But there was nobody he was really fleeing from, save that he was trying to disguise himself against their ghosts.

He was breathing hard with distress in his face. "I'm not going to let you goad me into doing stupid things. There was never any inconsistency in what I wanted or what I promised. Whether we were having dinner or squabbling or making love or talking with each other, I wanted you with me. But I can't fight everything! Now that it's time for you to leave, you have to.

"Didn't you hear what you said then?" Cagalli cried. Her wrists were on either side of her head, but the fists were balled in her insistence. "You said you'd _never _let me leave you. That meant back then, that meant the hours after you'd said that, and that means even now!"

He looked at her, stunned at the force and the vitality she spoke her words with. And against his better judgment, his pulse began to race and he had to pull himself together.

She buckled, straining against her binds, prepared to break her wrists to get to him. "I don't understand what you can't fight, Athrun, if you fought everything I used to keep you away. You fought me until I gave in to you, didn't you? You made me admit that I wanted you! And then now you're just throwing me aside! Or are you telling me that everything I pitted against you was nothing? Did I turn out to be easy to bed?"

He remained there, aware that she'd successfully gotten him to stand up from his chair in the frustration she'd enveloped him in. At this point, the distance was still clear between them, but he was finding it difficult not to move towards her. "I won't let you provoke me. I'll repeat myself one more time. You must return to Orb. I've told you before that this yacht's automated. It's on a one-way trip to Orb, and there's nobody on it."

"But you're here." Cagalli insisted, "And you're not leaving-," She began to pull violently at her chords, ignoring the sharp bite into her wrists. But as the cuffs grew tighter with her staining, she had to yelp a little. Even the padding would not help if she continued this way. "I won't let you. I can't see how you would ever leave-,"

"I was planning to leave while you were unconscious," Athrun said after a moment of watching her struggle. He seemed lost- standing at the foot of the bed but not really leaving. For now, she was glad for that.

And he added distractedly. "But then I thought I'd watch you sleep a little more and then-,"

His eyes regarded her sadly, and his smile looked more broken than ever. Hadn't he once told her that he wanted nothing more than to hold her and watch her at peace in his arms? Hadn't that been his own peace? But asking her to forget after all they'd experienced and learnt together- that was impossible. In her rashness, in the suddenness of the situation, Cagalli made the best decision she could have made then.

She began to shout. It started as a chant, really, but then it grew louder and louder, firmer and more violent until she was nearly screaming. Her pulse was pounding as if she'd run in the rain for miles, and there were tears beginning to form in her eyes. Outside, the rain roared with the spray of the waves. "You liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Li-,"

He cut her off in the only way he might have done. His kiss was swift enough, and she immediately coiled her legs around his waist, pulling him to her even when her hands were not exactly in the best position to be used.

She kissed him back breathlessly, not caring that they were both soaked from the rains that the wind had brushed in, not caring that she would have to fight the world, as he'd said, to get where she wanted to be. His hair was damp, as was hers, and their skins were moist and cool with water, making her shiver.

Without realizing it, Athrun was running his hands through her matted hair, pushing her back against the headboard, demanding from her kiss even when he'd first started it. The force of habit was stronger than his reservations- more subtle than the best arguments he could make in his weakening mind. Then he was pushing against her, trying to break the kiss. Yet, he was too late to realize that she'd managed to provoke him anyway.

When he finally broke it, Cagalli knew his will was weakening.

"I'm not going like this," She said firmly, glaring at him to prove her point. Athrun seemed a little dazed, sitting by her side. But she would make him listen to her, some how. "You'll turn this thing back now and bring me with you, wherever you want. But don't you dare say you're leaving."

Her voice grew a little louder but a lot more imperious in tone. He had to smile at how authoritative she was being despite her having nothing left. Put simply, Athrun was aware that Cagalli was getting desperate now. She was more cunning than he'd imagined, and even this was a sign of how she knew a way of provoking him. The way she'd managed it made it clear how he'd never been able to avoid that or resisting her in the first place.

"Follow me back to Orb." Cagalli demanded. "How many times do you want me to repeat myself? I sound like some broken recorder don't I? So do you want me to keep blaring on, or are you going to give in?"

He grinned, and it was a sardonic one. "You want me to be executed straight for returning and being found to have kidnapped the Orb Princess? No thanks. That's not even considering how they'll want to hang me when they realize I bedded you. No. I can't head back there now because I value the head on my shoulders."

"I'll explain everything." Cagalli promised, still trying to tug herself loose and buy herself time to convince Athrun. "Everything that is the truth- that you didn't kidnap me. I'll tell them that you only worked with the terrorists because you knew that I was in danger. It'll be like before the Second war," Her voice was breaking. "I'll clear your name for you. I'll tell them that I was wrong, and that I told lies in the court. I'll tell them that I helped the Seirans to mislead the judges. They'll forgive me- and they'll forgive you. You'll be a free person again, and you have that Orb citizenship and my signature that permits you to leave the Plants and-,"

"I am free," He said. The strength in his voice made Cagalli wonder if she was trying to give him something he valued very little of.

"How can that be?" She demanded. "Are you telling me that you feel free that you're working on the Isle, where it's a place that makes you question whether you're doing the right or wrong thing every day?"

"I have the truth and your affection, even if it ends when you return to Orb."

"What?" Her eyes widened. Incredulously, she said, "You mean that's all you ever wanted by getting us into this-,"

He looked at her and said very simply, "That's freedom to me."

"Is it really?" Cagalli questioned. "I always told you that reliving the memories and not running away from them was good enough for people like us. But maybe it isn't." She was beseeching him quite shamelessly, she knew that. What more could she do at this point. "It isn't enough for me now."

He shook his head. "You don't belong there."

"I should have said it earlier!" Cagalli burst aloud. "But there's still time, right? I want to stay there if it means I can be with you," She said, looking at him, straight in his eyes, "Every time you kissed me or you told me that you had done everything for me. And there's Epstein and the twins! Harumi and Ko and even the ginger cat in the garden-," Her voice shook. "I want to see them again."

Bitterly, she began to breathe shallow breaths. He stared at her, his eyes wide, and his lips parted slightly.

"I belong there!" Cagalli cried, losing control and rattling her chains in her frustration. "Don't you see? All this time, I tried to go back to Orb because I thought it was the only way I could accept myself! I thought I was of use only in Orb, but you showed me that I was only running from myself!"

He got up from where he'd been sitting on the bed, and in her desperation, Cagalli began to plead with him. If she had tried provocation, persuasion and antagonism, now, she could only rely on an appeal.

"Don't go! Please!"

How, she wondered, how had she been reduced to this begging mess of a person, a woman who had become so dependent on a man who had anyone at his disposal at any time? Hadn't she always been aware of this danger even while admiring the slopes of his shoulders and the way he seemed to know exactly what to do in the times when she didn't? Hadn't she reminded herself to stay away and to keep him in the recesses of the memories she never wanted to revisit?

He was walking away again. This time, she could not turn. This time, she would have to watch.

As someone who could control herself and so much power for the sake of others, what possessed her to throw her pride away and appeal to him to stay? She found no answers except for that swelling, terrible ache in her chest that did not go away even when she tried to think clearly.

"Each time I made a contract with you, I thought I was doing it to escape. I wanted to escape from the Isle and you- to numb myself and pretend I'd forgotten everything." Cagalli was calling out, hoping against hope, her voice trembling. "But all I was doing was escaping from confessing that I needed you still. So don't go- not when you were the one who made me see that."

He had paused, but he had not turned. The deliberate nature of his concealment made her realize that it was unlikely he was going to listen to her for any longer.

Giving up completely now, she began to blab about everything. Why not, when it seemed he would not turn around anyway? "You saw through it from the moment I saw you again, didn't you? You knew I couldn't forget you for these seven years! You knew that by reappearing, it was inevitable that I would have to admit how futile my trying to forget was! You're responsible for that! So don't turn me away now, Athrun-, don't!"

But even as she spoke, Cagalli knew that it was mostly pointless. Her stay on the Isle could not go on forever, no matter how important the people and the place had become to her. Ultimately, she needed to return for Orb, and she needed to sort out the mess of international affairs that was going to escalate into a war.

Nor could she remain missing indefinitely, for that would have been doing what the Isle-dwellers had done- running from the real world. That was impossible for someone like her, someone who would not be able to live while knowing that responsibilities had not been settled entirely.

Still, Cagalli wanted him. She could not let go of Orb, but she did not want to let go of him either. When she'd been a child, hadn't she climbed fences with a pail in one hand and a sandwich in another, her elbows doing the work and becoming terribly strained? But if she could have both even if something else cracked within her and him, why couldn't she?

She watched him turn slowly.

"It's strange," Athrun said, laughing once in that terrible, aching manner. She hated to hear him like that- that laugh that always made her realize that something had died in him. "I shouldn't be here for a minute longer. But I'm here still. Is all this retribution because I made you call out to me and beg me to live?"

"Amongst other things," Cagalli said softly. "That's your price for making me want to see you alive and well when you shouldn't have meant anything to me."

He looked sadly at her. "Yes, amongst other things. My binding you then and even now are acts that I have to answer for.

"Then unchain me," She demanded, reverting back to first few days when she'd been brought to the Isle. They were suddenly captive and captor once more and it seemed that nothing had changed even though everything had. She did not know who he was and he seemed reluctant to familiarize himself with her. "If you do, I won't tell anyone of this."

He shook his head tiredly. "This is going against your rights for the thousandth time. The thousandth time still matters as much as all those instances before that. It's only one more act that I will have to answer to eventually. But remember this and use it against me when the time comes."

"Use it against you? What are you saying?"

He smiled. It was a smile that made her think of either Lacus or of Kira when they'd looked at her during their wedding. She despised that smile- that smile had sympathy and an understanding she did not want them to have of her.

"You'll have to give your testimony about what happened. When you do it, remember that I was the one who took you to the Isle without your consent- the person who injured you and who took away your freedom. Say it when the time comes, because that's the only way to forget. By hating, you'll grow tired of remembering."

"But I'll never be able to hate you." She said in a small voice. "Am I expected to?"

He stared at her, and something of his resolve broke. How could he leave her like this, let her go and never have her or see her again? It would kill him to, and Athrun made up his mind there and then, deciding that a later death in her arms would be welcome than a sooner one by leaving her. Besides, it was unlikely that he could go without appeasing both of them. If he could calm her down and distract her for now, it would serve his purposes better.

He began to move towards the door again.

"You can't leave me here like that!" Cagalli cried. "You can't just take off now-,"

His foot met the door, and he'd locked it and turned back to her. "Who said I'm leaving?"

As his arms met her form, she was only vaguely aware of the moist sensation of the wet textures of their clothes and the way she was chained. If he had to lie again to make her happy, he would.

Nothing mattered when the heat of their bodies radiated through the soaked clothes and when he was kissing her as if they'd never had a moment of doubt while in the presence of the other person. When he began to rid himself of his damp clothes, she faltered a little.

His voice was low and rough with a bottomless, unfathomable desire. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

She gulped quietly, not because she was afraid, but because her shivering was becoming obvious even to herself. She thought of all the pictures she'd drawn. She thought of the painting of a room with a window- a chance or maybe even a lost chance, his shadow cast over the scene and painted in by her hand.

He was stepping near to her to undo her jacket. He could not pull it entirely away from her because of the binds, but it was enough to feel his lips ravishing what he could expose of her torso, and his hands searching and ridding her of all that clung on. Those were stubborn reminders of how everything had always been temporary, and she was glad to feel him against her.

Moreover, Athrun was moving to her and she could think of nothing more than wanting to feel him against her, close to her again. As she tried to break free from her binds, he whispered that she had to stay still, for fear that she would hurt her hands. His eyes warned her not to intervene, and she gazed at Athrun, slightly bewildered, but not able to think anymore when he finished and moved to her.

Her voice was a mumble, and she looked at him shyly, losing a bit of that brashness and that courage in the face of his own daring. "So you'll come back to Orb with me?"

"We'll see." He said gently. "I'll try to work it out, alright?"

Wasn't this some hollow promise from him, a false reassurance she nonetheless wanted and would trade her dignity for? It was no doubt, a promise made on the shaky, vague grounds of what she had intended for- that he'd try to work things out with her.

She did not demand that he clarify exactly what he was willing to do. Neither did she demand that he promise her that he was going back to Orb with her. They both knew what he was saying was a kind of lie- it was a kind of distraction; an escape for them both.

She forced a note of joy into her voice. It wasn't joy that she felt, but relief. Still, joy would make him believe that she believed his lie. "Good."

He studied her, and Cagalli knew that Athrun was trying to discern if she'd realized he was really just evading a promise she wanted from him. In some ways though, Cagalli was truly glad that he was still present in this room.

At least, she had a chance to keep him here and talk to him, rather than have him leave right away. If she played her cards right, Cagalli hoped, he would realize that going back to Orb with her was what they both needed.

But that he would lie to make her at ease was still a good sign. It made her feel that there was a chance to persuade him to go back to Orb with her, and the thought of that gave her the confidence she needed.

"If you're going to stay," She said softly, "You're going to have to keep me occupied."

A small smirk snaked its way on his lips. "Rest assured."

They knew it was not a matter of him staying. Inside them, they both knew this was another contract of sorts. And yet, it was a contract neither of them could find the strength to verbalize and expose as a weak attempt at giving in to what they really wanted.

But it made no difference to her. As long as Athrun stayed here for at least another fifteen minutes, Cagalli swore to herself, she would convince him that he needed her- if only because she needed him. She would convince him not to leave but to stay, and he'd stay even as this yacht entered Orb waters. By then, he'd surely see that he wanted to be with her.

"Kiss me," She commanded. "Now."

He obeyed.

To live, one had to give up the peace one had when one was dead. To have gotten where she was today, she'd shed tears and put in her soul- she'd traded the ideals she'd once cherished.

And to have established this amount of understanding between them both, they'd sacrificed their pride. Something always had to be given for something to be taken in return. If this was the final sacrifice to make Athrun stay, she could not have up the last of her dignity, the last of her independence, and the last of her pride more willingly.

He kissed her, his fingers searching for the ring she wore around her neck as the camisole's buttons were undone. He did this while taking his time, and here was rapacity in the way he took from her. She was helpless in so many ways, tied as a matter of fact, and desperate to make him stay. She was desperate for some kind of change to the always temporary security of his arms, and she was desperate to make him promise that he would come with her even if they had to fight the rest of the world.

She needed a battle plan; she needed some strategy. She needed his cooperation and she needed him to agree to go back to Orb. She wanted a way forward. But there was none she could see, and certainly not a future.

Still, there was the present, and the present shaped the future.

As he pulled away from her, he settled his warm mouth near her neck and bit her neck, ignoring the little yelp that she let out because she had not expected that sudden sign of possessiveness. At the same time, he caressed her, and her fingers tightened while held back by the cuffs.

"Tell me you want me to stay." Athrun said softly, hoarsely.

She nodded, made mute by her emotion, but he discerned what he needed from her expression of trust and absolute submission. This was another contract between them. Her utterance of her desire to be with him would make him stay, and in return, she'd get a promise of an indefinite, unsteady nature. If it would make her satisfied, he'd do it.

Yet in her mind, she knew that the idea of a contract was really an articulation of what life had always been. When he touched the ring she was still wearing around her neck, she closed her eyes and gave in.

And Cagalli thought of houses when he kissed the skin that he'd bared. Houses that seemed to have been filled with light with laughter coming from somewhere and children and pets rushing to greet those that came home. Houses she'd passed by on her own way to a home that felt nothing like those houses she envisioned. Hadn't she dismissed those as romanticized houses while telling herself it was for those houses and the people in them that she worked so hard? And yet the house he traced on her arm was an empty one.

Athrun was pressing his palm against her breast, feeling her heart move beneath it. She could see him thinking; she wondered what he was thinking. Now he moved his head to her, hearing the life within her as she breathed deeply, his fingers running patterns over her. His breath was warm against her and she saw his face with its expression of wonder and tenderness. She thought of the years she'd spent missing that face.

And Cagalli thought of people she'd known only the faces of when he stroked her wantonly. She thought of the postman who she always saw outside the gate and never at her doorstep with the occasional letters.

Lacus always wrote, and Kira had at one point. But those letters from Kira had stopped for a long time. Other than the old friends and the people in her office, she did not rely on anyone else to make her feel less hollow.

Athrun was pressing his lips to her, and she was sobbing with frustration and want even when he withdrew. She knew his face and his name- not the one he'd used to hide himself away from her. The one she would call now, the one he'd burned into her by forcing her to admit why she had tried to run away from him in the past.

This was his face. The same face with its searching, bottomless eyes and quiet, fine mouth. That mouth which was capable of showing searing pain and inflicting equal pain but had been whittled down to something of a wry quirk a semi-smile at most. She would never forget it.

He was whispering that he could feel her trembling. She knew she was. She thought of the young child her colleague sometimes brought to work, the gardener whom she let in once a month, an old man she recognized vaguely as a young servant who'd worked for her father a long time ago in the very same estate. And she thought of the weekly help who came in whenever she was at work and the way all these people smiled at her and how she returned that courteousness but never with the familiarity of actually _knowing_ them.

She did not know the names of these people. She would never have to, even when she'd long recognized and remembered their faces. She thought well of them all though. She was working for them- for every single nameless, faceless person in Orb that she still thought well of because they were part of the place her father had fought to protect and given up his life for.

They had lived because he'd chosen to give up something. At the very least, she would have all these people, even if she could never find her father in the study that she now used. It haunted her to realize each time that she was at the other side of the desk; at the other side of the study she'd entered uneasily as a child to ask favors of him. The world was asking favors- no, demanding things- of her.

It didn't matter that they weren't her children- it didn't matter that she didn't even know the name of the young girl in the car, waiting for her mother. The lack of a name didn't matter when Cagalli walked by and saw the child. All that mattered was that she was working because of a child and the mother and all the people around her.

He was entering her slowly and filling her every sense with the traces of him. As she buried her face into his neck, sighing a little, he began to tremble and then looked at her. She could see her face reflected in the glass of his eyes and she knew that the reflection of her eyes in his showed the reflection of his eyes on hers.

The names of the people that she remembered would not be easy to forget.

His lips were pressed against her forehead and she sensed that Athrun was getting more urgent now. He was whispering words she comprehended less than half of but understood all of because of the heated strength and agony behind them. This was what it was to hide away, a fragment of a past that she enveloped herself in while being swept to the shore. He had found her.

She thought of a shoreline littered with tiny shells that children scrambled to find- pieces of distant seas that waves had brought to them like secrets in a bottled message. He'd told her of Mon Pelier, hadn't he?

How she wanted to see it all with him- even if only once.

The thought of that filled her with a longing that his presence satisfied only partially. She sobbed quietly, wanting to cling onto him, wanting to feel her nails sinking into the bed of his flesh, feel him hiss and move against and in her in response to her contact with him.

"You won't go after this, will you?" She begged.

He was panting, kissing her neck momentarily. He said nothing.

If only she could leave a visible mark on him instead of praying that he would remember this even when the sands of time had buried the last jagged edges of their broken lives. She wanted to have him with her. Would he promise not to go after this? He was here; he was with her now. She wanted him to stay.

She shifted herself as best as she could in her state, fighting back her tears, trying to smile and to be persuasive to him. "Don't go after this. Stay. Come back to Orb with me."

He was still for a moment. Then he nodded.

She was overjoyed.

It wasn't that she believed him for a second. But she wanted to, and he'd understood that she'd needed another lie for her to go on.

"Would you have asked me to go on and leave if I'd said no?" He said quietly.

She surged up to him, kissing his lips. "I don't think I could bear to."

He knew she spoke the truth, and it grieved him to know that he'd given her lies instead. But she was looking at him with that complete trust and a desire that showed in her eyes, and he decided he would rather concentrate on the last of their moments together.

The dim lights of the cabin died as he closed his eyes, giving in. He thought of the places he'd seen- the happiness and suffering of those compressed into the layers of the air and the memories within those spaces his mind was always drawn to.

Hadn't she become rooted in those spaces the way the essentials of the background were always there? Hadn't he learnt to visualize her as more than the faint wish that she would be there? Hadn't she become more than the last of the memories of the past, but the actual present as she had stood there, next to him, facing the winds that swelled and sang against the cliffs?

She kissed him again, her tongue delicate against his lips and then parting his own to tease him. Still not satisfied, Athrun began stroking her thighs and releasing a moan from her. Then he began parting her thighs as he bent down, looking at how her eyes were pure gold, her lips separated in her lust. This was his- she had given herself to him, and he would take her now because she had given him the right to. As he brought his lips to her, Cagalli stiffened and cried out, struggling.

He bent and kissed her eagerly, straddling her and kissing her eagerly, perhaps for the final time. She struggled to gain control of him, but he fought her, the binds serving him well.

"Let me free," Cagalli begged. "I won't run this time, I swear- I only did it so I could be with you, and-,"

"I'm not sure you won't run," Athrun murmured. His eyes looked at her and his lips curved tellingly. "You're too clever for me."

Even though Cagalli continued pleading for him to let her hold him, he ignored that. He didn't need her to hold him back for him to gain his satisfaction, and he was more intent on showing her that she had to simply trust him.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He whispered, burying his face near her neck. Her eyes were wide and she looked a bit jittery. "I'm not-,"

In her position, her chest was thrust, her arms unable to free themselves. She seemed to be in a web of the sheets she'd mussed and tangled herself in, and he preyed on her apparent helplessness, drawing her into their passions.

If he didn't touch her more then, he'd lose control. His eyes were narrowed and his gaze unfocused, but the intensity of his voice told her what he wanted. When she writhed, her legs became bent at the knees. She'd planted her feet into the bed, straining and trying to cope with the sensations. As he touched her, she began to sob with pleasure and some discomfort, and he wondered if all this was fair- that he was able to be with her even now when she didn't know why he was really here.

She was arching for him, throat warm and delicate. He'd slit throats before, Athrun thought. He knew what it was to cut throats open and hear the screams die into silence and to feel the warmth of life on his hands and face despite how he'd just taken that life away. Her voice was coaxing him, begging time and time again.

But he ignored her, laving his tongue and making her squirm. Watching her, he realized she was still begging him to let her go. Her words were nearly unintelligible with her gritted teeth and her efforts to conceal her pleasure, but he could make those words out still.

"Not yet, Cagalli." He said quietly. "Don't ask me to unbind you. You'd run if I released you now."

Desperately, she strained against the chains to feel more of his mouth kissing her as he moved down and down more. Trailing his lips along her belly, Athrun felt her twitch restlessly beneath his searching mouth, and Cagalli was murmuring, her arms thrown back, her back arched, silken hair spilled all around her face.

"Please-," Her eyes were brilliant with emotion and something like the beginning of her tears.

"I won't stop." Athrun promised, "Not even if you beg me." His voice broke. "Stupid, really. I never had the sense to chase after you."

It was enough for her to close her eyes, sinking into him, drawing him into her, shuddering once and then biting into his neck, leaving a mark that would surely stay there with the rest of what he remembered of her.

He let his eyes travel, slowly, almost painfully, over her, memorizing her and imprinting her into his mind. He'd sketched her in his mind, many times. This was another time that gave him that distilled impression of what she was like, and what he would have to do without when she left.

His eyes did not meet hers, but they were filled with a raw emotion that dispelled any doubt that he was still playing mind games with her. Not any more. She arched up to him and mewled his name in her daze, his hands hard on her hips. Consequently, a tiny smirk played on his face unconsciously as he straightened up, facing her.

"Couldn't you have let me have my way today?" She berated him softly, still panting with the exertion of their bodies. "You've already promised me that we'll try to work it out. Surely, giving in to me a little bit more would be nothing in comparison to the risk of going back to Orb and facing the backlash from everyone?"

His gaze focused as he stared at her, coming out of his slight daze.

She knew she was lying too. In the midst of their contact, they were distancing themselves from the fact that he was unlikely to return to Orb. He had promised her he would try to work something out, and she had taken that promise to mean his going back to Orb. They were functioning on a common misunderstanding, but that was the only way she could make him stay a little while longer with her.

"I couldn't help it." He explained, caressing her face. Her cheeks were pink with her physical exertion and they were settling into the warm aftermath of what they'd become accustomed to. Why should this time be any different where their bodies knew the familiarity of being entwined together?

His hair hung over her and she wished she could have the freedom of her hands to tangle her fingers in his hair, the way she'd always done.

"I couldn't help wanting to stay here with you and promising to work things out." His smile was very gentle. But again- that empty promise that she still clung onto.

It didn't seem to matter that Athrun was lying to her and that she knew it. They were both functioning as if he'd told the truth that he wouldn't leave.

For Cagalli wanted to believe what he'd assured her, even if he'd done so very vaguely. As always, desperation provided a route for her, and she found that actually believed what he was saying.

He was stroking her and she keened in pleasure; a cat settling itself into the routine motions of a hand rowing it way across the lake of its body. He whispered, "You'd think I'd have learnt to stay away. But you make me unable to help myself. Even the way I kept thinking of you when we'd both left that island we were stranded on- that was your doing."

She colored slightly, lowering her head. "I don't know what you mean."

He laughed a little, kissing her shoulder, a hand straying from her face to her collarbone. "Come now, you do. I wasn't referring merely to what you'd shared with me about the war. I meant the other aspects of our meeting."

Her color deepened and it seemed as if she was a few degrees warmer with her blush. "That was an accident-,"

"Didn't you realize how uncomfortable I was when you tried to get rid of those crabs?" He pointed out matter-of-factly.

Cagalli looked flustered. "What are you going on about?"

"Lifting your shirt, Cagalli! Then tending my wound in that state of yours- it was more than I could possibly bear. How could you use your power over a poor boy like that?" He put on an expression of mock-exasperation.

She shook her head wildly, very embarrassed. "That's not it- I never thought of it that way-,"

The air was changing again- they were forgetting themselves. They wanted to forget themselves, and they'd launched into dialogue about the past; revisiting the moments they'd claimed each time they were expecting to fall asleep in each other's arms. That was their normality- she wanted their normality to return to them.

"Of course it was rather nice for me." Athrun revealed teasingly. "Scandalous, but very, very nice. I remember falling asleep on that island while wondering what had possessed you to do all that."

Her expression grew even more awkward and slightly grumpy. "Well, I'm glad flashing you didn't give you nightmares, Mr. Impeccable Manners. I'm sure someone flashing you scarred you for life."

At the back of her mind, she knew they were only procrastinating. But if it would make him stay a little longer, she would go along with the routine. The hand at her collarbone strayed down and she shifted a little in pleasure. He laid a kiss knowingly on her lips, whispering, "You might say that."

"Yeah, we all know how delicate and pure you were back then- just like you are even now. We both know you don't really shag per se- you never, ever just throw me into the bed, never, ever ignore my protests that you're being too impatient and you never, ever talk dirty and proceed to rattle the bedposts." Her tone grew more acidic. "You never, ever like me to talk dirty to you, and you always, always, just like to keep things gentle and very easy-going. Isn't that right? What we've just spent the last half an hour doing is a fine example of that."

He chuckled, enjoying her sarcasm. "That's right, Cagalli.

"Really, how was I to know that you were affected by that?" Cagalli demanded. "Was I expected to know that despite your nice-guy, sophisticated image, you were and still are a crazy, horny fellow underneath?"

"Excuse me," Athrun said with great dignity, although his lips twitched. "Any fellow would have blushed at what you did."

She snorted. "Yeah- any fellow who's been deprived of studying female anatomy in their biology classes. Or any fellow who's never seen any female before and assume that discovering the female chest is as significant as uncovering the lost pyramids of Egypt."

"Did anyone tell you that you had a gift for description?" He said mildly, letting his eyes skim over her. Her mouth fell open indignantly, and he continued taking in the view with an almost-illegal pleasure. "Or that you make normal boys sound like oversexed lunatics? For that matter, you make normal girls sound like people who normally and quite reasonably flash random people they've just met, who coincidentally, tried to kill them before that."

Cagalli looked pointedly at him. "It was a very simple thing I did! You're just blowing it up to this epic proportion of scandal. I bet that only the Victorian society would think much of that! Any girl wouldn't have thought much of what I did."

He had a mental image of Lacus descending from the heavens. "Wanna bet?"

She scowled at him. "Stop contradicting me!"

"The problem with you," Athrun said studying her intently, "Is that you never realize that it isn't so easy for others to forget you're a woman. You always managed to forget it yourself- but I didn't."

They knew what he was referring to. Upon returning to Orb, she would be ultimately the same but changed beneath that composed veneer of power, composure, competence and masculine authority. He'd unlocked something she would never be able to keep within the abysses of her forgotten self and past any more than he would.

"It's not really like I was trying to be a tomboy," Cagalli protested. "I always got upset when people mistook me for a boy too, remember?"

"Never happened after the First War." He said thoughtfully. "I guess it's the First Impression of seeing you that makes people think they are dealing with someone who's not exactly the archetypal female. "

"Hey, I know I don't go for all that makeup Fllay Alster used to leave around in the room," Cagalli argued, "But how do I look like a boy?"

"The way you acted, I suppose." He said drily. "Plenty of reference to a boy back then, when you were dressed as a soldier. Besides, you were as tough as nails to the point that most wouldn't think you were a girl." Athrun studied her. "Frankly, I was probably too caught up in trying to kill the enemy without realizing that I always assumed that you'd be male if you were the enemy I was up against. I don't think I've ever fought hand-to-hand with a female soldier before."

"So you didn't notice that I wasn't male." She surmised. And Cagalli looked at him exasperatedly. "Really, Athrun, it's chauvinistic to think that your enemy must be a male."

"Guilty," He said laughingly. "But justified in some ways. There aren't many female soldiers- those who leave the bridge, anyway. I realised that you were female once you screamed and confirmed it when you flashed me. After that, I don't think I ever thought of you as a boy or even soldier anymore."

Suddenly, they were not in this yacht and she was not chained and desperate. It was almost as if they'd been in the room she'd filled with signs of her presence and the room that had become warm with their habitation. She was smiling and laughing with him, and they might have been on their backs, in each others' arms, lying in peace and joking, except that they were not. "I did not flash you."

"Not entirely, no," He agreed. He looked at her mischievously. "I guess I would have liked it better if you'd done more."

"Athrun!" She was thoroughly scandalized now. "Please don't let anyone hear you talking like that- you'll be jailed!"

He laughed with her, then said softly, "I guess I really didn't expect a girl to be on the island. Or in politics, for that matter. The first time I saw you in something that wasn't masculine, it was some time after the First War."

She shrugged, looking remarkably dignified in the state she was in- what with her being bound and his taking advantage of her inability to fight him physically. "It's a fine line between being labeled a bimbo and a butch. I'd rather appear less feminine because it's easier to survive in politics that way."

"Of course," Athrun said boldly. "But you can't survive with just your gift for politics when you're with me."

Her lips parted in an attempted comeback, except that he was sliding his fingers into her and kissing her to shut them both up. She began to writhe, almost violently, but he ignored her and her resumed pleas for him to release her. She was his- he did not want to free her even for her to hold him.

"Bugger, Athrun," She said with some rather justified difficulty. This was given because he was doing a pretty fine job of making her feel like she was on some kind of illegal dosage of whatever she was feeling."We've already done this with me flailing like a fish without the use of my arms. Why don't you just let me free so I can reciprocate?"

He chuckled and kissed her. She leaned back against the headboard, feeling his weight sink into hers.

"Not yet." He said mildly, although his expression suggested he was trying to control himself. As her feet rubbed against his back, he bit his lips, whispering in a trembling voice, "Not yet, because I like having you helpless for once. I'm not finished yet."

"You're a secret chauvinist," She berated him breathlessly, trying to accommodate him as he ran his mouth over a sensitive portion of her neck. "You don't like me having my way."

"No," He whispered. "It's just that your independence is the reason why you leave me behind each time."

And she cried out incoherently until he kneaded, harder, into her, holding her down even as she swiveled and moved furiously, matching his rhythm with her own. When he was satisfied with her, he returned to kissing her mouth, and then in a fit of possession, he entered her, feeling her clamp around him, drawing him in as she bucked and shook against the cuffs.

Her voice became a cry as she struggled against him, writhing and slithering, but bound still. And he pushed her face near his chest, cradling her head with both hands.

"I wish you'd never leave." She whispered. Her face was hidden and so was her expression, and in that moment, he made a mistake.

"I won't go anywhere without you." He said intensely, "Not even if you beg me."

He hadn't meant to lie to her. The words he uttered may have well been the truth, unlocked and springing out like a tightly wound screw that echoed in the air. But he was not supposed to make promises. He was not supposed to disappoint her by telling her what he wanted and then showing her what they could not have.

But he saw her raise her head, looking at him with a growing disbelief, doubt, then anxiety and then finally the worst of it all- hope.

For in that moment, she wondered if she'd doubted him and had second-guessed herself when he'd said before that he wouldn't leave. She wondered if he'd really meant what he was saying when he told her he would work things out. Had he always meant that he would follow her back to Orb?

"Athrun," She said in a low voice, "Are you really coming back to Orb with me?"

He looked at her and that small light in her eyes and he knew what it meant for Titus when the weight on his shoulder had first been borne there. He knew what Tantalus went through, and he knew he could not do anymore but to let her have these few moments of happiness before he took it all away once more.

Athrun's voice broke in its pain and he saw that she believed that he would do as he said. "I always watched as you were taken away from me, and never had the sense to chase after you."

He watched the light in her eyes grow into a brilliant sheen and he knew she believed he would do as she thought. If this was his final lie, Athrun realized, then it would be final only because it would destroy her.

"I want you to live with me again, when we get back to Orb." She said abruptly, looking straight at him.

He went along with her. "Why not?"

She smiled- smile he had seen a few times before. But he could remember nothing of those past instances while faced with this particular moment.

His body contorted as he held her, he closed his eyes, accepting the sensations that were washing over both of them. In the very essence of his efforts not to see was his willingness to blind himself to the ugliness of his lies and the pain of seeing how he was entwining his body near hers. Hers was one that welcomed him and didn't know better of his poison. But that was precisely his helplessness, and Athrun intrinsically accepted that it had been inevitability as they'd met and loved once more.

He spent the rest of the time stroking her, kissing every square inch of her and he noticed that the chains had bit into her, and smiling ruefully, undid those. She sprang onto him like a wild cat, her joy at his promise fuelling her need for him. She was clawing, pulling him to her, enticing him to be with her all over again. He knew that there was nothing else that he could do and he gave in to their instincts, praying for her to wake up, see through the mist of lies he'd spread around her and push him away.

When she took charge, pressing him to lie on his back, straddling him and controlling him, he felt a tear land on his cheek once. But when he looked up, there was nothing that spoke of her fears and her pain, although the rims of her eyes were slightly red. She smiled when she saw him looking at her, and she swept him along with the tide of their pleasure, knowing it would distract him as he'd distracted her previously.

But it wasn't good enough. Wanting his own control, he let her finish with him, then pulled her onto her fours, dealing with her mercilessly, telling her that it was fair that turnabout was completed. In the midst of their heat, hearing his own cries sound in the air made him ache for something more. Her voice became like his until those were inextricably and unimaginably joined- nearly indistinguishable from each other.

"Don't go." Her voice was trembling. "Don't ever leave again."

Then they were suddenly in each others' arms once more, and she was sobbing and trying to tell him something. Was it joy or the aching hollowness that was plaguing her once more? He didn't know. He didn't even know what he was feeling that made him hold her and wish he could change what he'd set out to do.

He let her spend herself with her crying, lulling her to sleep with the comforting circles he drew on her back. Like a child, her pillow was soaked and only his presence could comfort her. She held his fingers in hers, smiling at him, and the glint of the ring around her neck made him unable to watch as she settled near him.

Her head was buried near his chest, and he comforted her with murmurs that bordered on incoherence and his own emotions. Then he brought himself into her once more, locking himself into her embrace, deep, keeping himself there as she curled around him, her hands pressing around his arms.

She whispered that they had all the time in the world now, and he wondered if he'd always known that he never had a choice. It was soon now. He soothed her the way he would placate a child, hushing her, unable to move, unwilling to go, unable to bring himself to leave while she was still awake. He was equally unwilling to promise anything that would make her feel more betrayed when he left.

When she asked him sleepily whether he minded that she'd cleared out his old room a long time ago, he knew he was betraying her in a way that felt as if he'd hurt himself too.

But she was waiting for his answer and Athrun shook his head and told her that he wouldn't ever mind it.

"About time we got a new start." He whispered.

He watched her smile shakily and he watched her rest her head against him. She was still crying a little, although she locked her sobs within her lips and buried her head against his shoulder. As he listened to the semi silence and the lull of the winds outside the cabin, exhaustion claimed them both.

Entwined in each other's arms, they drifted into sleep.

* * *

As his feet pounded into the floor, he felt no calm enter him.

Shinn was beside himself with worry. It had been five hours since Kira had set off, and it would be soon that he'd reach Scandinavia. Kira had looked quite resolute and Shinn knew that Kira was not expecting to fail- whatever his duties to perform were.

But where Shinn was concerned, he felt as if he'd left his mind and hi stomach behind in the Plants. As it was, he was pacing uncontrollably in Aaron Biliensky's office and he could feel beads of sweat gather and pool vexingly at his hairline.

Shinn's shoulders sagged as he turned in a little corner. "I wish that I could have gone with Kira."

"How would you have helped?" Aaron asked scathingly. "It's not like you're a politician or a diplomat that we need at this point. That's why Kira wants us to stay here. We need to hold Orb together and prevent the Emirs from doing something stupid or worse- letting the Elders declare that she's a lost cause and they're planting in a new leader. "

"I know that. It's just that-," Shinn mumbled. "I feel useless here."

Aaron was watching him irately. "I know this is coming at a terrible time, but will you stop clumping up and down on my carpet with those goddamn boots?"

"I can't help it," Shinn explained, wondering what to say to Aaron. While Aaron seemed to have control over everything, Shinn was quite aware that Aaron was in a mess underneath that composed demeanor. After all, Kira seemed the same as well.

Aaron's eye lingered distractedly over Shinn's choice of footwear. As Shinn had rushed over to Orb as soon as Athrun had instructed him on what to do, Shinn had taken very few things and had very little time to find anything else to wear these days. "You mean the stomping or the bad taste?"

A little annoyed, Shinn still ignored the barb. "I need to stop thinking of the worst things, so cut me some slack here."

Aaron stopped his bingeing, got up shakily and began to pace too. For once, the chocolates on his table were not helping him to take his mind off everything. "Maybe I should try whatever you're doing- I need to stop imagining some kind of nightmare and stop thinking about things too much as well."

They replaced each other quite instantaneously.

Shinn took a seat while Aaron did the pacing.

The clock chimed in the corner and even the picture on the table seemed to beat some kind of warning. Shinn had never seen Cagalli looked entirely relaxed in any photograph, but in this one, she seemed quite at ease with Aaron. They seemed to be this strange little family- Aaron, Cagalli and a girl that Shinn recognized as Aaron's niece. Yet, there was a distance that would always remain between Cagalli and the other two, even in this photograph.

He watched as Aaron completed the seventh lap in his office. "Say- do you think that letter was real?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Why would a captor tell anyone where his captive was, unless he wanted to set a trap?" Aaron spluttered. "It's the classic kind of trap-,"

"It's classic because those who want to save the captive will still go." Shinn wondered if it was God's plan that he was repeating exactly what Athrun had told him but to a person who didn't really know what was going on. "It doesn't leave a choice for anyone."

Aaron ran a hand through his hair, looking very upset. "I hope Kira will be safe. And Cagalli too. This is the first time I've heard of this kind of ransom- if it's a ransom at all. In order to get the captive, we have to bring our own troops there. There were other instructions in there, but I didn't see much of it. What I know of though, just doesn't make sense. What kind of captor would give instructions that allowed us to shoot him down if we identified him?"

Privately, Shinn agreed. It just didn't make sense that Kira was being advised to bring troops and weapons there by the same person who'd captured Cagalli, but no amount of persuasion had convinced Athrun to tell him exactly what was going on. But he still trusted in Athrun. If there was one person who wanted to keep Cagalli safe, it was his senior. As far as Shinn was concerned, Athrun would never hurt her.

"This is terrible," Aaron said hopelessly. "There I was, whining and telling her not to go to Scandinavia. And then she went and-," He shook his head, wringing his hands in the air. "I can't believe that she left telling me favorite chocolates from Sweden!" His eyes were turning red as he tried not to break down. "And all I kept saying to her was that when she came back, I was going to bring her to see some freaking re-run of Chicago. And now some crazy man's gone and captured her and he's not letting us find out what's going on-,"

"What makes you think the captor is male anyway?" Shinn muttered.

Unfortunately, Aaron heard him. "Hunch."

Shinn wondered if Aaron had been around long enough to hear of the faint remainders of the rumors that had once swirled around Cagalli and Athrun. As her bodyguard, Shinn had heard a few of those now and then, particularly when her colleagues wondered why she tended to avoid pub sessions on Friday nights. Some said that she wasn't interested in men or women; just work.

Some said she was too wary of getting close to a male because of the media's scrutiny and the Elders' expectations of her. Some of the more senior ones said that she'd once had a boyfriend who was a bodyguard.

Nobody could really remember his name and nobody really remembered his personality, since he kept away from the rest and did not show his face much. But they were sure there was something between the Orb Princess and that bodyguard, because she didn't want any bodyguard around her except him.

Of course, said one of the more senior colleagues, all bodyguards lived with their employers so he was with her in the Estate, doing God-knows-what. But then he'd left for the Plants and after that, they'd never heard of him. Come to think of it, nobody really remembered him, and all of them had different impressions and different memories of Alex-something-or-the-other who'd been around for a short time and then left the service.

Some swore Alex-something-or-the-other had been a servant's son in the Atha Estate, and some swore he'd appeared from nowhere, apparently, after the First War. All those different memories of the same person who might or might not have existed seemed to contradict each other.

And like all the gossip about Cagalli Yula Atha, those seemed baseless even to those who were scrambling to find a good lunch topic. Unlike other celebrities or key politicians, the little rumours about her always seemed to dissolve in the face of reality and how removed Cagalli Yula Atha seemed to be from all these plebian rumours.

"Whatever the case," One senior clerk had remarked, "He never bothered introducing himself much to us and we never took notice of him because we all too busy."

Nobody really knew what had happened, and frankly, neither did Shinn. Nobody registered the bodyguard's face with the war-hero who'd some how came to Orb and then been embroiled some hushed-up conspiracy and asked to leave shortly after that.

Could Cagalli have possibly told Aaron of who Athrun Zala had been to her, given that Aaron was so close to her?

Looking at the fretting Aaron, Shinn didn't really know.

"Kira should have reached," Aaron was muttering. His voice grew louder. "Here, don't just sit there helplessly, Asuka, make yourself useful!"

"What do you want me to do?" Shinn said haplessly. Suddenly, he would have preferred singing to Leon than being around a highly-stressed, tightly-wound Aaron Biliensky. While having served as Cagalli's bodyguard had exposed him to the idiosyncrasies of this man, Shinn preferred being around more sane people.

"I don't know," Aaron blustered. "Make tea or something- coffee, perhaps-,"

"Would you drink it?" Shinn countered, crossing his arms.

Aaron glared at him. "Look, it's far better than sitting around and leaving all the work to Kira!"

"But that's what we have to do now," Shinn argued, thinking of what Athrun had said. With some irony, Shinn realize they had been taking turns to berate their inabilities to do anything while the other convinced the self-berating person that they would be unable to help Kira anyway.

"The letter said he was to go without anyone else except the troops he trusted the most. Even Kisaka was not supposed to go- Kisaka was supposed to guard Cagalli's house-,"

"I can't believe a captor would warn us to do that," Aaron scrambled his hair again, obviously and very highly vexed. "I mean, is this some kind of trap? I can't play mind games when Cagalli's not safe- I really can't-,"

"Sit tight." Shinn tried to calm him down. "You have to trust Kira."

'And Athrun Zala', He thought silently to himself.

But Aaron continued to pace. As he paced, Shinn tried to ease his aching mind by rubbing at his temples. Then Aaron halted, shocking Shinn into sitting up straight like a Doberman on duty.

"By the way," Aaron said suddenly, "Have you seen Marlin?"

* * *

She did not know when she did, but when she woke up, she was seized by a panic. It wasn't merely that it took her all of a moment to realize that she'd been bound with cuffs once more or that he wasn't present.

It was the fact that she'd remembered him telling her that he was going to go back to Orb with her, and that they'd fallen asleep holding each other. She began to try to get her wrists free, but found that those were different cuffs now. These were a funny kind of dark metal, which closed in like clay rolls and did not seem to have any kind of lock at all. There seemed to be no way to get free of them unless someone drilled holes there.

In that second, she wondered if insanity had finally claimed her.

And yet, she could hear Athrun outside the room.

Without moving a muscle, she continued as she was, listening intently as his voice carried over in something of a murmur.

"Make sure her place is safe." Athrun's voice was a bit soft, but his enunciation was clear enough for her to catch all the words. "Make sure that he hasn't planted anything dangerous back in her office."

Who was that on the other line? And who was that Athrun was referring to-

"Greyfriars?" She thought to herself.

His voice grew a little more insistent. "I want you to check her house too. I don't care how you do it. Make sure that it is completely safe. Get Kisaka in there if you can. If he wants to take the house apart to make sure it is fine, then let him do it. He has my blessings."

"If all goes well, she'll reach in six hours."

Did Athrun keep in contact with Kisaka too? Why hadn't he told her, Cagalli wondered vaguely, still feeling a bit light-headed and woozy, and what was he so afraid about? What could possibly be planted anywhere?

She shook her head a little, but the slight motion was enough to set her head in a horrible haze. It was as if she'd been in a damp, dark cellar for ages and she was ten floors down and an hour away from emerging.

The sluggish feeling was somewhat familiar. Had she been drugged again?

"I'm going to make sure that she doesn't find her way back to the Isle. He's too dangerous- he could kill her with a single order."

If Marlin got away, that's just too bad for you. I told you to watch out for him- he'll be a liability if he makes it to Sweden in time and finds Kira. Kira's headed to the palace now."

The information he'd revealed made her fight to struggle out of her haze.

What was Athrun talking about, Cagalli wondered. What was he saying that was making him sound so serious? Kira or Marlin shouldn't have been part of the conversation, if she assumed that he was talking to Epstein.

"He will try and kill Kira once he gets there. I don't want her to go knocking on his door. He'd kill both of them for sure. He wants war- he wants Orb to enter Scandinavia. He's waiting at the Swedish palace already- he's only waiting for Kira to get there and enter Scandinavia through Sweden. You know that. I don't have time- I have to head back to the Isle."

And that was when she knew she'd heard enough to surmise what was going on. The gap in the door had been slight, but it was enough. She had seen something of Athrun's profile, and she knew it was unlikely that he was going back to Orb with her. But those lies didn't matter as much now as trying to understand what was going on. She couldn't risk Kira going to wherever Greyfriars was- he'd harm Kira, as Athrun had said. Cagalli couldn't have that.

She struggled, cursing, trying to unbind herself. As Cagalli tried to pull at the wrist-binds, she felt a clinking of immensely heavy, dense metal around her flesh and bones and the sound of it against the wooden bedposts must have alerted him.

As she spied Athrun turning towards the room, she panicked. There was no way she'd be able to break from these casts. The metal was a strange one- not too rough and very fluid to touch, but so heavy and so non-malleable that it fit perfectly around her wrists.

It did not make sense to fight these binds or him. These were hopeless, and she was powerless against his physical strength, let alone his persuasion. Of course, she knew enough not to believe him entirely now, but he must have decided to chain her here and head back to the Isle because he had some urgent business to settle.

Yes, Cagalli decided. That had to be the reason why he was not keeping his promise.

As she was, she was in no position to struggle or to talk him into letting her free to go to Sweden and try to meet Kira. Instinct told her she had not been meant to listen to his conversation and she was supposed to be in a deep sleep. Naturally, she knew she was in danger, although she could not identify exactly what was dangerous.

She could hear Athrun a little better as she strained to listen. But suddenly, she heard the door opening and she clamped her eyelids shut immediately, pretending that she was still asleep.

She heard him move around the circumference of the bed, and then she felt his weight settling as a chair next to her side creaked. He'd sat down.

But while her eyes were shut as she pretended to sleep, she knew he was surveying how much more tightly he had bound her wrists.

Where Athrun was concerned, he knew it was time for him to leave. The small boat would help him speed to the place he needed to be at. Here, Cagalli was safe like this. The metal acted like locks around her wrists, and it would be impossible for her to do anything until it was time to.

Both cuffs of metal would simply disconnect with the tiny amount of explosive fixed in it as Barnett had arranged on his orders, and Cagalli would be free to move once again. The timed reaction had already started taking place when he'd clasped the cuffs around her hands, and it would probably cause the metal to break.

He had to leave now, and he had to return to the Isle. Greyfriars would not let anyone off when he realized that Cagalli had already escaped. If Athrun didn't go back, Epstein and even Harumi would not be able to fend off his rage and the anger of his supporters. Athrun could not risk having Ko and the twins hurt.

After all, Athrun thought, gazing at Cagalli, he'd foiled Greyfriars' plans quite thoroughly. If Greyfriars had wanted to trade Cagalli and the biochemical weapon in to Pietre Harraldsson for Denmark's independence, Greyfriars was certainly not going to be able to do it now.

"I apologize for this treatment," Athrun said evenly and very quietly, moving the attention away from all the questions she'd thrown at him. She wondered if he was aware that she was awake or whether he was pretending along with her. Or perhaps, he truly thought that she was asleep.

She had no choice but to continue. There was that steadiness she had come to associate with him, but something in his voice seemed inconsistent.

Still pretending to be deep in her slumber, Cagalli sensed that he seemed to be observing her the way an interested tourist would view a chained-up experiment at the science center. His voice was soft and a bit sad. "I suppose it's a bit uncomfortable, even if you are on a bed. But you should rest."

He was tucking the sheets more securely around her, and she realized that she was still bare beneath the sheets. When she got back to Orb, would someone find her in this yacht, screaming for help and attention, as bare as the day in this bed? What was he up to now, by preventing her from doing anything? And what was Athrun trying to do by going back to the Isle and intercepting Greyfriars?

Cagalli felt him kiss her forehead so lightly- so imperceptibly that it was almost like she was dreaming. "You'll reach Orb soon enough. Then you'll forget and live the way you were meant to. You'll be safe there."

She kept still, hearing him get up. In the moments that followed, she was begging herself not to break down. As the door closed gently, she knew he'd left, and she knew she'd never be able to escape from the yacht that was headed back to Orb.

And Cagalli felt as if her stomach had been opened and turned inside out- into a gaping chasm of emptiness.

* * *

Lacus looked anxiously at Yzak. She was seated before him, and the phone was still ringing on the other side with nobody picking up for her. "They won't let me speak to the Head. At this point, I'm still waiting to hear a human voice. I don't think Kira will ever be able to get remotely near the dock if they don't let us near."

The automated replies had been lengthy, confusing and worse- in Swedish.

"It's a good thing you came here then." Yzak declared. It wasn't often that a diplomat came to the Zaft divisions where the Head General and the major divisions' generals' offices were. The Foreign Affairs department was quite a distance away- eight travelators, if he recalled correctly. As far as Yzak could recall, the last time any diplomat had come to this part of the official grounds had been a year ago.

Her eyes widened a little. "I came here to ask if you had any solution- I didn't expect you to want to make the call yourself. Are you sure you should intervene?"

"Trust me." Yzak said. There was the old confidence in his voice, although he wasn't sure he really felt it. "Frankly, Mediator, I'm downright unhappy that the refused to take the call from your assistant and insisted that you take it."

"That's the way diplomacy goes." She said quietly, with a steadiness that always surprised him. "Cold calls."

"Not when it's you." He told her, feeling a surge of protectiveness. Not for nothing had they grown up together as playmates. Athrun had been part of their little motley crew, as had Shiho Hahnenfuss. If Athrun had been somewhat introverted as was his nature to be, Yzak had always been slightly bullheaded about which games they should play. Lacus had been very good at hopscotch, and Yzak had insisted that they play anything but that- he hated being beaten by a girl. But the fact was that he remained highly impressed and always admiring of Lacus Clyne.

Apart from his mother, if he'd been ask to name another woman who could rule the Plants if she'd ever bothered, he would be hard pressed to come up with anyone else but Lacus Clyne. Truthfully, Yzak had always envisioned Athrun and Lacus getting together and having a brood of talented, perfectly polished little diamond-children.

"You know," Lacus told him, "I wonder if Kira will ever find her."

He thought of Athrun and Cagalli Yula Atha. Someone, somewhere out there, possibly up in the highest divisions of heavens in the head department, had other plans.

Frankly, Yzak did not really know what to make of Cagalli Yula Atha. It wasn't that she was incompetent or the sort of person who rubbed him the wrong way. If she had been guilty of that, Yzak would have been cold to her at worst and indifferent to her at best. While nobody really noticed or pointed this out to him, Yzak had always reserved his passionate outbursts and anger for those he bothered with at all. But Cagalli Yula Atha was a woman who made him feel very uncomfortable- possibly because she reminded him of his mother in an uncanny sort of way.

The last time he'd seen her in person, she'd been at a Plant function. She'd been a guest of honor for contributing to Plant's economic recovery, and she had looked rather breathtaking that evening with her gold eyes and hair.

He'd even caught himself staring at her and thinking how much she'd changed. It wasn't an overt change, but it was a change that made him think of petals folding inwards to hide some secret and then unfolding slowly and being frozen in the process. She wasn't as talkative or as chipper as he remembered.

She still knew what she was doing- he could testify to that as he'd seen her grill some over-eager males who'd tried to impress her with their political tactics. She had been biting; vicious while appearing courteous and looking very attractive, and yet she'd seemed withdrawn at other moments. Yzak was confused by her and he did not like to be confused. She however, was a walking contradiction that others seemed to want to unscramble and chart though.

At this point, he stared at Lacus, who was lost in thoughts.

No doubt, Yzak thought with a surly expression, he hadn't expected Athrun to go for someone as unstable and as volatile as Cagalli Yula Atha. If anything, Athrun seemed better off with someone who didn't seem to have a temper and who never accused anyone of anything and never took things into her own hands.

Despite his friend's appearance, Yzak didn't know of anyone as emotionally hungry as Athrun Zala. It would have been better if Athrun had been set up with a girl who would be both a mother and wife to him- someone who would keep him in check instead of motivating him to throw all caution to the wind. Someone who would be a paragon of virtue- someone who had as much sex appeal as the amoeba in the pond-

He stared at Lacus, who was dictating a report to a palm-sized notebook. Her hair fell in cascades over her shoulder and her skin seemed milkier from her pregnancy. Okay- maybe not without some attractiveness. But really, Lacus Clyne was the sort Athrun would have been better off with. Someone who didn't have the qualities that presumably excited Athrun so much- someone who wouldn't make him act like a lunatic.

Despite his scorn for preening and feminine graces, he couldn't help thinking that while Cagalli Yula Atha was not as pretty or as classically-featured as the refined Lacus Clyne, she had a sort of undeniable defiance. There was that strange feeling that she was somehow brash and wild beneath her subdued front. The way her leveled gaze still held a hint of unbreakable pride and natural sophistication and the way she strode with purpose even while retaining her femininity must have thrilled men before.

Still, how could Athrun throw the prize he'd always been after for a single person who probably didn't even know the extent of his sacrifice?

Yzak shook his head inwardly. Idiot.

"Yzak," Lacus said slowly, "I will call again and request to speak to the head of the port authorities."

She nodded to the notebook, which snapped itself shut and fit back into her palm. "I've sent in a request to speak to a human again. I don't want them putting me on hold and trying to get my head around the Swedish instructions to press random numbers for random inquiries."

He got up, stretching slightly. "You should. By all rights, they should let the ships in- especially when those are disguised as Plant ships. I will not accept it if they refuse to speak to even the Mediator Clyne herself."

It was highly affronting that a grunt from somewhere in the Naval Authorities' division of Scandinavia's security department had demanded that nobody less than the head Mediator of Plant ask for permission to enter the waters. "If they don't honor our trade-treaties, there'll be hell to make up for."

"Hell?" Lacus looked highly worried now.

"Hell." Yzak muttered.

He could recall what a member of the Supreme Council had once told him. "International, let alone Galactic law is soft law. Not like normal law. Normal law is hard, good law. If someone doesn't follow the rules you both agree to, what would normally happen?"

Yzak knew. One sued those bastards.

"But if it's a country or superpower that pulls out of an agreement?"

At that time, Yzak hadn't really known the answer to that. How did one force countries or superpowers to honor their agreements?

Of course, there were the good old Galactic Courts which were still facing this massive backlog of war crime cases from way beyond the First War, but he could count on them for mediation if he wanted. The Galactic Courts didn't have any troops they could count on to enforce the international and galactic laws- but they could apply economic sanctions if all the countries agreed. The last time it had happened successfully, it had been about two hundred years ago. Really.

Since then, Yzak had found an answer to the old question and a way to show that Galactic law was good law.

His lips curved into a grim smile.

He turned to Lacus Clyne, the Head Diplomat and a member of the Supreme Council. "Lacus, don't waste your breath anymore. I recommend some good hard knocks."

She gazed at him, a knowing glint coming into her eye. She did not believe in warmongering tactics, but Yzak certainly did. It wasn't that he was open to the idea of conflict. He was open to the idea of coercion though. Given a prisoner who could be either guilty or innocent, Yzak would rather presume the person to be guilty than to presume him as innocent.

He took the phone from her and began dialing. In a matter of minutes, he was connected to the port authorities of Sweden that represented Scandinavia as well. "This is Yzak Joule, Head of Zaft speaking. I want to speak to the head official of the Swedish and Scandinavian Port Authorities."

There was a hastily replied affirmative and in seconds, the voice he wanted to hear was speaking.

"Sir! You shouldn't have- the Zaft Head himself!"

Well, at least being the Zaft Head made him a fairly recognizable name. The world wasn't a lost cause then.

"I called because I received a message from Zaft's head marine biologist that our researchers are being intercepted and asked not to approach your waters."

Kira had called Lacus to tell her of the difficulties they'd experienced, and as it was, Lacus had asked Yzak to do something about it. At the same time, she wasn't the only one that Yzak was receiving a request from.

"Ah- about that-," The voice was flustered and distinctively apologetic. "I am sorry, but as head of the port, I have other instructions-,"

"Oh I understand," Yzak cut in benevolently. "I know that the dateline for the results of the inquiry within Scandinavia is due in four days, but I must insist that you keep to our previous treaties. After all," He chuckled with coldness evident in his tone. "The world can't stop even if the Princess is still missing. Incidentally, I'd like to ask how the inquiries are going."

The man sounded rather uncomfortable. "My most sincere apologies, General. I don't have the ability to reveal any information about the ongoing inquiries."

"Well, it matters little anyway. What matters is that I have some important Zaft marine biologists on board who are waiting to get into Sweden and the rest of Scandinavia." Yzak said composedly. "I want you to remember our treaty allowing our researchers into your waters."

He tapped his fingers regally on the table, watching Lacus look at him. There was a sudden mischief he'd seen in her face and he was reminded of a young girl. She was quite a handful for her husband, he was sure, and he winked conspiratorially at her.

"Surely, the head wouldn't have to remind us?" The man was saying excitedly. "We'll let them in based on the treaty we settled a long time ago- no doubt about that."

"Good." Yzak said firmly. "I'm holding you to that."

"Subject to conditions of enforcing security of course," The person on the phone added in quickly.

"Security?" Lacus whispered.

"Security?" Yzak demanded.

"Er-," The man sounded at a loss now. "The Head of the Royal Guards has issued a declaration that we must check every single sea-vessel and every single crate it has before we let the ship into the inner waters."

Yzak frowned. "Right. Good luck and godspeed then."

He replaced the phone and shook his head at Lacus. "That's the best that I can do."

"It's good enough. Thank you, Yzak."

"You sure?" He said skeptically. Athrun had requested that he find a way to let Kira into Sweden too. How coincidental that Lacus was asking the same of Yzak and that Yzak was still limited in what he could possibly do.

She stood up, shaking out her skirts and looking at the clock in the corner of his rather sizeable office.

Her smile was angelic. "Yes."

* * *

Cagalli awoke quite suddenly.

Her head still felt sore, and she wondered if she'd bashed it against something. She shook her wrists listlessly, half-expecting herself to be still pressed against the bed. But she heard a clink of metal and something heavy dropped to the floor, then another.

The cuffs had somehow broken. Amazed, she sat up in her bed, the sheets falling off. He'd tucked her in, she remembered, but now she was left with nobody. The ship-

She sprang out of bed, not bothering to even observe the cuffs by picking those up from the floor. With a hurry she had never expected of herself, she was dressing quickly. Her clothes were not difficult to find- everything was neatly folded on a chair. He must have picked those up and readied everything for her.

"Get going, get going-," Cagalli muttered to herself. Even though sleep must have claimed her some time ago, thanks to the effect of the second tranquiliser, she had fallen asleep while clinging to a single thought the way one must have while hugging a bolster. She was not going to go back to Orb like this.

She pulled on the shirt, adjusting her pants and then sitting to slide on her boots and lace them up. Her wrists were quite sore, but the second set of cuffs had been a lot less painful than the first set. Or perhaps, she hadn't struggled so much with the second pair as much as the first.

Had Athrun expected these cuffs to break loose after a while? She gazed at the shirt she'd worn, wagering a guess. The chances were that he had only wanted to bind her to buy himself sufficient time to leave the yacht without her following. Even then, he'd probably drugged her again and ensured that she would be unable to wake, let alone get up and struggle against the cuffs.

Walking unsteadily, she opened the door and was faced with dark seas. She pattered as quickly as she could into the various corridors, checking for signs of him. Although she was mostly sure that he'd done as he'd told the person who was presumably Epstein that he was going back to the Isle, she couldn't quell the rather foolish hope in her that he'd stayed and would explain what was going on.

The other rooms were empty, as was the kitchen. There was a meal there though, and its presence was equivalent to the summation of the roses she'd received every time she'd woken and found herself alone. It gave her comfort and a warmth she required, and she ate ravenously, knowing that she would have to keep her strength up. While Athrun had probably intended that she feed herself and gain the energy she required to face the inquiries back at Orb upon her arrival, Cagalli would still take this meal, even if for another purpose.

When she finished, she left and proceeded to the last corridor of the yacht.

The winds were still howling even though it wasn't raining, and she was glad as she tread towards the bridge. It was still locked.

She treaded over to the side of the deck, staring into the water. The waves were rolling and hitting against he side of the yacht, and uneasy, she stepped back, breathing in deep. When Cagalli felt a little more assured of herself, she looked around and confirmed her suspicions.

The escape-boat was no longer there. He'd probably left a long time ago.

Yet, now was not the time to be asking why he'd broken his promise. Swallowing the disappointment and slight anger in her, Cagalli began looking around to find something that would break the door down.

She was aware that she had little time to waste. Kira was not going to be prepared against Greyfriars if he'd gone there himself. The chances were that he had, since no ransom letter would have simply gotten one to go and allowed him to bring all sorts of helpers along.

Rummaging along the sides of the deck, she found a few jagged bricks. Those seemed fine for breaking the lock. Eagerly, she ran back to the door, finding her strength from her will to meet Kira and prevent him from doing anything more stupid than he probably had.

If Athrun was heading back to the Isle and assuming Kira would know how to fend for himself, Cagalli was sure as hell not going to assume the same. How could Athrun expect that of Kira when Kira was probably desperate to see her safe? It was a recipe for disaster, and Cagalli believed that going back to Orb and being indifferent about her twin's exposure to the risks of entering Sweden was the key ingredient.

Summoning her might, Cagalli struck at the lock over and over again until it gave way. As it did, she allowed herself a whoop of congratulations, then darted into the door.

The bridge room was finally open to her, and from there, locating the coordinates to Sweden and navigating the yacht there would be very easy. After all, she'd had plenty of training with Athrun in return for her company.

"You'd be proud of me, Athrun." She muttered, switching the yacht from the automatic mode to manual. It would not be heading to Orb if she could help it. And certainly enough, she was.

Even before she'd fallen asleep from a weariness she couldn't control, she'd been sure of two things.

The first was herself and her ability to prevent Kira from being targeted by Greyfriars for whatever reason she would deal with later.

The second was Athrun's promise.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Kira heard the captain saying in a protesting manner. "Searching our boats? What for? Can't you see we're just traders and fishermen?"

In his makeshift office, Kira leaned back on the crate of would-be oranges, closing his eyes and pressing the device a little close to his ear. The storeroom was quite dark, but it would suffice. If anyone came in here, Kira would simply hide. As it was, there were plenty of places to, despite the ship being rather small.

He was holding a device to his ear and adjusting it to hear a little better.

Outside, the captain of the special forces units of Orb was arguing with a grunt of Sweden's naval security department. Inside, Kira was listening to the conversation. The captain was just one of the man who were arguing with the port authority officer.

"That's the rule these days," The man was saying insistently, with an accent that Kira identified him by. "If you want to dock and enter Sweden, you have to let us check the boats."

"Look, sonny," The supposed fisherman told the over-eager supervisor of the docks. In the background, other disgruntled traders were complaining too. "We have the backing of Plant! We're here as traders, and some of us have Plant marine biologists on board!"

"We have China's backing," Another man was saying as Kira picked it up in the background. "China has a direct trade treaty with Scandinavia, just like Plant, so why are you stopping us from entering the waters and going to the market place to trade?"

"America too!"

There were howls of similar complaints from presumably other ships that represented other countries.

Kira pushed up the thick-rimmed glasses he was wearing, praying that he would not even have to make an appearance. With his after-eight shadow, he might have looked significantly different from what people probably assumed he looked like. Hopefully, if he had to appear in this laboratory coat, he would pull off the disguise.

"At least," The Swedish fellow was saying, "Let us check to verify your claim. We did know that you traders were coming in today, and we did get all sorts of reminders from your countries to let you in. We will, we promise. Subject to the absence of threat from your boats and ships. In fact, we got a special call from Plants telling us they had some guests aboard your ships who were here to study some waters, but I need to make sure."

Kira was glad that Lacus was making some calls to the Swedish authorities at this point in time. At least, Plant was quite useful as a mediator, and Lacus was back in action even if she wasn't reinstated as the Head diplomat just yet.

"I say," One trader was saying loudly, so loudly that Kira picked it up without any problem at all. "I'm not worried about these checks, and neither are my crew- but how long is it going to take?"

"Looks like a fucking Cosmic Era," Another said in the back. Again, he was so loud that the rest had no issue hearing it, or Kira for that matter.

"The market place would have closed by then-," Someone with a thick, German accent said. "I've been here since afternoon and it's nearly evening! They haven't finished checking my ship, and I got here first!"

"Look, your ship is so big the rest of us are going to have to wait even longer than you!"

A scuffle broke out, apparently, and Kira winced.

"Gentlemen! Sirs! Calm-,"

At this point, the device that Kira was wearing in his ear buzzed a little, and he knew that some call had probably come in again. The port authorities' office was definitely crowded with all the captains or heads of the sea vessels waiting to be checked, and Kira reminded himself to congratulate his captain on making the others feel flustered and even more impatient. If tensions ran high in that port office, the chances were on Kira's side.

"Yes, yes. I understand." Through the bug that the captain had on him, Kira picked up that the grunt was having some kind of conversation on his phone.

The voice of the port guard was more insistent now. "I have direct orders from the Head of Royal Guards who insist that these are security measures. These orders are from the High Kin Pietre Harraldsson- all boats must be checked. You are lucky you are not an aircraft- those are not even allowed in- let alone checked and allowed permission subject to our officials' discretion."

"I know." Kira muttered to himself. He got up from the crate of weapons he'd been sitting on and strode out of his office which was roughly at the rear of the average-sized boat. The troops were waiting for his commands now. The captain had done a fine job up to this point, and Kira was relying on him to insist that they bypass the red-tape procedures for a couple more minutes. That was all they needed for the back-up plan to go as Kira had suspected it would have to.

In his ear, Kira could hear the captain launching into a passionate argument with the Swede, who tried to calm him down and assure him that all this was not a waste of time, but protocol that was important for the security of all seas. If they kept this up, Kira realized, they'd have more than the required time that Kira needed.

He turned into a corridor, where the troops were assembled. There weren't many of them per se, but it would suffice for intelligence purposes.

He spotted the first mate of the fishing trawler- the second-in-command, really. Kira looked at him in the eye. "No go. Proceed as planned."

The first mate saluted to him, turned around and faced the men.

"Squadron Alpha- to the East of the market. Watch for any guards. Security has been tight lately."

Addressing a second squadron, "Beta to the West. Check the alleys. The coordinators have been supplied into your watches. Make sure you look at every single person there. She might be within the crowds."

"Charlie, spread towards the central. Leader Charlie, ensure the bulk are combing at every point."

"Delta, towards the palace."

"To all squads- keep in contact."

Dressed in their traders' garb with wellingtons and a few with laboratory coats, Kira almost failed to remember that they were carrying weapons under their heavy clothing. While the captain kept the port authorities busy, these men had other things to do and other instructions to carry out.

"Back door, please, gentlemen." The second-in-command said calmly.

* * *

"Well, Athrun," Cagalli muttered to herself, steering the yacht carefully into the waters of the bay. "You weren't that careful after all."

He'd taught her how to steer and basically everything she needed to pilot this yacht. Now, she was putting that into practice but in a way that he would surely be highly upset about.

If the waters around the Isle had been particularly rocky, this place was a breeze. He had been a very good tutor, and she'd learnt well under his tutelage. These waters were clear from most rocks, sufficiently deep for even ships five times larger than this yacht, and she had no problem whatsoever.

If he'd taught her how to do all this, she could only think that it was because he wanted to spend more time with her. They'd certainly gotten familiar with this yacht, its rooms and even the bridge. Of course, it always started off with a lesson and she was frankly, quite competent in using this yacht.

It made sense that he'd bound her wrists, Cagalli realized. He must have known that she'd gained the capabilities to change the course of this yacht and prevented it from leaving the Scandinavian region. That had to be the reason why he'd left only after he'd made sure that there was no way she could break the metal casts around her hands. That had been why he'd wanted Cagalli to be sent back to Orb- afraid that she would try and get involved.

But she'd always had the luck, hadn't she?

She smiled grimly. Even his own cuffs had failed him and she'd been able to make use of that. He hadn't been expecting her to wake before she reached Orb, she supposed. But she had, and by that time, the cuffs had broken and given her the freedom of her hands. Admittedly, Cagalli had put those to rather good use and quite quickly too. She'd even broken into the brdige and found a knife and gun that he'd left there. Those would serve her well if she needed it.

There was no way that Cagalli could stomach leaving for Orb just because he wanted her to be safe. She had so many things to do- she needed to see Kira again and to tell him all that she'd been unable to in the past. If Athrun was important to her, then Kira was equally dear to her. She'd be damned if she let him risk his neck to find her in Scandinavia.

She'd be damned if she let Athrun ship her back to Orb without her getting to meet Kira immediately. She wanted to find Kira. She wanted to tell him as soon as she could that she'd never blamed him. More than that, she couldn't let Greyfriars use Kira as his pawn.

In front of her, the clear windows showed an indigo, pink and sable sky. Gulls soared momentarily and then disappeared over the head of the yacht. She switched on the visor to see what was happening outside the yacht, and at ground level, the cameras told her that there was a great deal of activity.

From where she was at, she could see a whole line-up of different boats and ships. Some were yachts seemed as innocuous as hers, and some were tea clippers and the others fish trawlers. Apparently, Scandinavia had some pretty rigorous security procedures where their waters were concerned, and Cagalli would have to wait in line to get checked.

It was all fine and dandy then. As it was, the circumference of sea vessels around the port authorities' docks were crowding up the place, and from where she stood, she could see some annoyed fishermen sneaking out of their boats, apparently keen on getting some beer as their turn to be checked would not come any time soon.

Some appeared to be complaining to their companions, and some seemed to be hurrying to some market place with a crate of things in their hands. From where she was, she could see an obvious lack of planning and a concentration of all the port officials at the first ship. It seemed to be flying Germany's flag, and it was massive. From the looks of things, it would take at least another hour to ensure it was entirely safe.

Most of the crew were sneaking out, apparently keen to get to the market place before the sunset. Most of them seemed miffed at having to wait since the time they'd gotten here. At the same time, the men leaving their ships were hidden by the bigger ships that blocked the view of the overworked, understaffed port authorities of Sweden-cum-Scandinavia.

The inefficiency of the checks suggested a great paranoia that the waters were facing, and Cagalli wondered if it had anything to do with the dateline the Galactic Courts had imposed on Scandinavia to produce the Orb Princess and to provide an explanation for her disappearance in their waters.

As it was, Cagalli decided she'd do the same as the impatient traders. It was pointless waiting for them to search this boat to decide she wasn't a threat. There was nothing on it- absolutely nothing except her. She had to make her way to the palace as soon as possible, and waiting for some random authority to come and look into all the rooms of this yacht would set her back by hours.

The smell of salt was clearer than ever, and the elevation of the yacht helped her surmise that she could slip out and leave the authorities their own sweet time to see there was nothing threatening about this yacht anyway.

Gritting her teeth, she exited from the bridge and threw on a coat. With her pants and boots, she grabbed a knife and gun that Athrun had left behind in the room, and she unloaded a plank to use as a passage to the docks.

"Seriously," She heard one businessman cursing, "The Swedish authorities are idiots! They're not going to finish this even by the time the market closes entirely, and it's not like they don't need us traders to do business-,"

She turned, trying to orientate herself and find some kind of reference to the marketplace that she'd just slipped into. At the other side of the massive throng of people, she saw a few other traders leave their ships, totally unnoticed by the highly stressed and distracted authorities who had fewer than twenty people to check at least three hundred ships, small boats and Haumea knew what else.

The sheer number of boats and ships waiting in a messy, unorganized splatter of complaining, rather upset grid acted as a blockade, and she slipped into the crowds that had gathered at the docks to watch the authorities get flustered. These were the locals who had probably just finished their day's activities and were watching the sun set with some evening entertainment unfolding.

With her heavy coat and dull coloured clothes, she was almost lost within them, and the hood around her face was sufficient. She was glad that it was raining slightly and that it gave her an excuse to shield her face, for nobody seemed to notice anything strange about her.

Someone tried to sell her apples and she tottered away, made unsteady by the shoving people around her. Beyond the edge of the dock, there were plenty of people selling things, although they were beginning to pack up.

Bargains were aplenty and there were the key ingredients on sale for a very good dinner. She might as well have been carrying a basket of fish, pretending to hurry home to her waiting children with some leeks sticking out of the same basket.

The cobbled pavement was not easy to walk on and she was suddenly glad that she'd been equipped with comfortable boots.

The crowds pushed around her, and she felt someone sneak his hand into her pocket. Crying out, although it was lost in the crowd, she slipped her hand into her pocket just in time to deter whoever it was that was trying to pickpocket her. She could not afford to waste anymore time.

So Cagalli grabbed the first person she saw who seemed busy enough to not look at her properly, but not flustered enough to ignore her. "Where is the palace?"

The woman answered her in thick, fluid Swedish that she understood little of, then swatted at her hands with an expression of distaste. Cagalli surmised that normal locals didn't go around grabbing at other locals and asking for directions in what was probably a foreign language to this person.

Beyond them, a church bell chimed.

"Er-," She let go of the person, turning around, lost in the gathering evening and all too aware that the night was looming before her.

At the stone-walled bridge, she felt herself being carried away by the crowds. The lamps were flickering into life and those cast shadows everywhere. There were painters packing up their things, getting ready to leave because the darkness was coming and there were too many ships and overworked port officials and ships ruining the view anyway. A beggar was kicked to the side by one, and some grumbled about something she understood very vaguely.

"Excuse me-," The random person she'd tugged at pushed her hard, muttering a curse she didn't get the complete meaning of but enough to understand that he thought she was a beggar. She actually fell to the floor, caught surprised by the force and suddenness of his shove.

Undeterred, she got up as best as she could and tried to look for someone who would tell her where the palace was. There didn't seem to be anything but steeples and no way to tell where to go; what with the people everywhere.

She grabbed another person- a child this time. He was holding paint things, and he seemed to be slower than the others in packing and leaving. Speaking slowly, Cagalli asked, "Where is the palace?"

The boy looked up at her, his cheeks ruddy with the cold wind and his cap a bulge in his pocket. Whoever who had knitted the cap to keep his ears warm had not had the sense to leave the bell out- or the pattern of kittens either. He stared at her, and for one terrible second, she thought he'd recognized her. But he hadn't, and thankfully, he understood what she was saying. "That way, Miss. You want pictures of the palace? I can sell you some- these are cheap,"

He shoved some under her nose, and she saw what she needed to identify the building.

Without another word, she hurried in the direction he'd pointed out to her, her hands firm in her pockets, feeling the gun in there- hoping that nobody would pickpocket her. The tallest steeple was at least twenty kilometers away, even from where she was. Hurrying was the only way to make it and to prevent Kira from meeting Greyfriars, who had presumably found a way to contact him and lure him into Scandinavia.

Four diagonal stone tiles away and with at least forty people in between him and the edge of the bridge, Kira was moving in an opposite direction. Behind and around him, the Orb troops had successfully left their boats and were spreading out in the locus he'd drawn, based on the letter's instructions.

One soldier stood at the bridge, pretending to puff at his pipe while keeping an eye out for any Swedish Royal Guards who might possibly come alone. He Had received particular instructions and he was of the specific team who was to watch out for that group. There were other groups of course, to do other tasks like watching out for other people. But that was not his job.

He thought he saw someone vaguely familiar from the corner of his eye. He blinked, and instantly he did not see anything he thought to be familiar. He cursed himself, trying to focus on spotting the people he'd been tasked to look out for with the rest of this division.

But as all men with a purpose often found, he had little time and consideration for anything else to the point that he was blinded to the most important thing of all.

* * *

3 days.


	28. Chapter 27

I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 27

* * *

_If one could even call the exchange a conversation, Athrun's one conversation with Yuna was an experience he would never want to repeat. Crucially, it was the one thing that he would and eventually did conceal from Cagalli rather willingly._

_Far from it being an experience that he wanted to forget, the conversation was one that Athrun wanted to remember. He preferred that the poison he received from Yuna was imprinted like a map onto his skull, because it was all to easy to forget the world when he was with Cagalli. _

_Besides, Athrun had always made it a point to learn his lessons well. _

_The lesson haunted him even years after he gave her up and somehow met her again. The lesson haunted him because it was true and that truth hadn't changed. It plagued him even when they were together, walking along shores at the distant edge of a place secluded from the world beyond them, all because he knew that she had never really been his right from the start. _

_And Athrun knew Yuna Roma Seiran had been correct enough for Athrun to take him seriously. In fact, Athrun could even sympathize with Yuna. If Athrun looked at the events that had happened with Cagalli's previous fiance's point of view, Athrun had been the one who'd stolen Cagalli. No matter how despicably weak or arrogant Yuna Roma Seiran had been, Athrun understood his anger towards the stranger who'd suddenly appeared with his then-fiancee- a Coordinator who'd come from nowhere and had nothing._

_It was an office that might have appeared more like a gallery. Paintings were everywhere on the walls but the space of the generous office that Yuna occupied as a Seiran Emir seemed cluttered even then. The chandelier in the room was a bit low and Athrun wondered if its owner had to duck to get to his desk. As it was, he stood in front of Cagalli's colleague's desk, waiting to be told why he'd been instructed to come here._

_Yuna Roma Seiran was not one of those men who cut to the chase. He liked to think of exchanges as conquests. Even crossing the lawn required attention, discipline and poise. That was his way. Conquests were necessarily slow, aching trials with the troubles of the world weighing one down, but succumbing to the wisdom and elegance one could always face the world with. And at the end of it- ah! The warmth of victory to bask in and the glow of a setting sun to complete the atmosphere of accomplishment. _

_And from the looks of it, Athrun noted wryly, those conquests were perhaps all washed down with some Don Perignon to complete the sweet taste of self-importance._

_In the meantime, Yuna smiled benevolently at the person he identified by the name of 'Alex Dino'. There was a mild condescension that Yuna applied to his voice and his gaze, and Athrun noted it with a growing dislike for a person he mostly tried to be courteous to._

"_Well, so good of you to come by, Alex." Yuna said pleasantly, his already thin lips thinning a little more. Athrun decided not to remind Yuna that he'd ordered the visit._

_Yuna twirled a finger wrapped with his fringe, surveying Athrun with a small smirk. "Some wine?"_

_Athrun began to decline, except that Yuna got there first. "Oh, but I expect the taste won't sit well with the likes of a- well, you."_

_Athrun fought the urge to lift a brow. He smiled mildly instead. "Thank you for the offer, sir."_

"_But come now Alex," Yuna stood up, not bothering to offer Cagalli's bodyguard a seat. "You must know why I called you here. Look around the office, and you'll see."_

_Athrun did as Yuna asked. As he gazed around and the sculptures of Rubens-worthy women, he wondered why this particularly exquisite set of birdcages seemed out of place while next to dining table. And why was there a dining table in this office and not a single bookshelf or some kind of file storage area? Come to think of it, there wasn't even a visible computer anywhere._

_There was a cupboard filled with porcelain figures and plates. The sheer quantity of them made Athrun feel he was in a museum or stranger still in the current situation- an office that had been converted into a museum._

_Athrun wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps this person was requesting help with re-decorating or moving things out of the office. While Athrun had been around for a month now, nobody had really paid him notice and the little extra work he got on top of his bodyguard duties were usually running errands for random people in Cagalli's office. Perhaps something like that was required. But why the need to look at this overcrowded space?_

_He gazed at a row of pictures featuring highly pleasant, clearly beautiful, extremely agreeable if somewhat dismissible scenery. Amongst these, there was a painting of a cathedral bathed in light. He actually recognized that and muttered the artist's name to himself._

"_I bought that in Paris, when I was completing my college education that my family encouraged me to pursue in preparation for this job," Yuna said loudly, noting where Athrun's gaze was. Athrun did not miss the emphasis on 'Paris', 'college', 'education', 'family'- Yuna probably assumed Athrun had experienced nothing of those. "It's an original that cost me a pretty penny- I even got it insured."_

_Athrun wondered if it had been Yuna or Athrun's father who had been cheated. He made a mental note to check the vault back in Aprilius to verify if the wedding gift that his mother had received from his father was a fake. But then, Athrun remembered that he was unlikely to return and therefore dismissed the thought- what did it matter anyway?_

_Still, his lip curled instinctively when he looked at the dimensions of the said original._

"_I notice you've been taking your time to look at my office." Yuna sounded rather satisfied. "You like it, even though you can't appreciate it fully."_

_Athrun was highly puzzled, because this office was twice the size of Cagalli's and appeared infinitely less useful than hers. He was even more puzzled as to why Yuna thought he liked the office._

"_Well, Alex? From the looks of this office, can you infer why I called you here?"_

_He was doubtful that Yuna wanted honest perspective and commentary on the styling of this room. Athrun would have gladly offered some except that it had not been asked of him. Besides, Yuna was unlikely to like, let alone have the ability to appreciate Athrun's thoughts on the chandelier, which might have been used as a hat stand. _

_So Athrun snapped back to attention. "I have no idea, sir."_

_Yuna poured some wine, swirling it theatrically. "I will tell you then. I see that as a bodyguard, your observation skills are sorely lacking."_

_Athrun waited, standing quietly in the middle of Vanity's fair. And Yuna seemed to be more keen on sipping whatever he was drinking._

"_Look at that picture." He pointed to the largest, most richly-framed one. Of course, Athrun had noticed it but declined much thought on it._

_There was an enormous rectangular family portrait. Athrun could vaguely recognize Yuna's parents, who stood on the extreme corners of the portrait respectively. A much younger Uzumi Nara Atha stood in the centre, looking very solemn even when he sported shorter hair and less of a beard. _

_In the centre, two children sat. One was a tall boy in his dinner jacket and with a pleased smile and violet hair, and the other was a girl that Athrun recognized immediately. _

_Cagalli's hair had been long then, with bright locks flowing over her shoulders and her hands folded neatly in her lap, her skirts gathered around her. But if she looked like a Lacus-figure from afar, Athrun spotted the unmistakable defiance in her face. Her posture looked uncomfortable- almost as if she was inching away from the hand that the other child was stretching towards one of hers. Her folded hands looked quite stiff._

"_I want you to look carefully at that family portrait, Alex. I will tell you what's so significant about it."_

_Athrun waited a little more, feeling slightly bored. He wanted to get back to Cagalli's office- she was meeting some Atlantic Federation officials today and had spent a whole night preparing for it. He was sure that she would do well and he wanted to witness it. Besides, he had to brief her on Kisaka's behalf- there was an Armory One visit in three days' time. If Yuna continued at this pace, Athrun would have no chance to speak to Cagalli at all. _

_He ticked off the events lined up in his mental schedule-planner. She had a dinner event tonight, the day after tomorrow, and tomorrow was a pretty intense day too. He had to get back as soon as possible to speak to her._

_But as it was, Yuna Roma Seiran was taking his time and Athrun was obliged to wait._

_Thankfully, Yuna spoke. When he did, Athrun wondered why he'd bothered asking at all._

"_You're in love with my Cagalli, aren't you?"_

_Athrun found no reason to deny it even if he didn't agree with a particular if not key aspect of the question. "Yes."_

_Yuna drank a little more, looking rather amused. "You do know that she's the equivalent of a princess in this country, don't you?"_

_Athrun found no reason to answer. The answer rang in the air even when there was silence. The overpowering cologne that the person before him seemed to become visible in the silence._

"_You do know-," Athrun found that phrase particularly irritating, but Yuna seemed to favour it. "That she's my fiancée, don't you?"_

_Frankly, Athrun did know._

_Athrun had found out upon stepping into Orb after the First War. Although Cagalli had arranged for him to work as her bodyguard and permitted his new identity, he had found lesser than expected time to be with her. _

_Upon her return, she'd been swept up in a whole slate of political affairs and had been initiated into the civil service as the Atha Emir- there were no other Emirs from her House after her father had died. If she wasn't in the office, she was attending events to extend connections within and outside Orb. By right, he did have a lot of time with her as a bodyguard, even if not as Athrun Zala._

_But all that hadn't distracted from the nasty shock of realizing that she wasn't exactly free to be the Cagalli he wanted when he was free to be Athrun Zala- Athrun Zala without the baggage of being that very person. _

_On the first day of his being in Orb, he'd been shown around her house and estate. It had been a massive house and massive place, and it was famously beautiful and known to have some tributary of the Orb river flowing through it. Cagalli had been showing him around quite excitedly and they'd only returned from a walk in the woods when Yuna Roma Seiran had showed up._

_She'd frozen up and before Athrun could infer what was happening, she'd been grabbed into someone's arms. The stranger had planted a loud, wet kiss on Cagalli's cheek and declared, "About time you came back to me and Orb, my love!"_

_And Athrun had stood there, trying not to gape. The stranger seemed to be familiar with this place- he had found them, hadn't he? And the stranger seemed to be quite familiar with Cagalli too. _

_Not only was he not addressing her as the Orb Princess, he had called her his love. Athrun had never called Cagalli by any other form, much less with such sweet endearment that it rang almost false._

_And Athrun had never- never- laid a hand on Cagalli in public, much less kissed her. He didn't even do that in private if he could help it. But this person had done everything Athrun had never done. The worst was that Cagalli seemed to accept it, even with that grudging smile she forced out. The nature of the smile did not matter to Athrun- the fact that she bothered at all made him wonder if he'd made a mistake by going to Orb with her._

_Now, he glanced at Yuna._

_The rest that had followed, Athrun realized now, had only a prelude to the procedures of every morning. The hug- the kiss on the cheek- the awkward gaze from Cagalli that shifted from her fiancé to him- the moment when she was led away- the moments thereafter that Athrun found himself wondering why she didn't resist- the moments thereafter that Athrun found himself wondering why he hadn't resisted._

_And now, Yuna Roma Seiran was asking if Athrun knew that she wasn't exactly his._

_He looked at Yuna blankly, half-wishing that he could be sent out of the office so he could get back to Cagalli. Was she on her way to convincing the officials already? He wanted to see her- he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Even if he had to watch from a corner as she struggled to make others see from Orb's point of view, he would be better off as Alex Dino than Scum-of-the-Moment._

"_Yes, I know she's your fiancée." Athrun replied. He wondered how long it would take for this person to realize how flat his tone was._

"_Good." Yuna said merrily. "As long as you know that, all's fine."_

_The puerile presumptions that Yuna Roma Seiran's smirk contained made Athrun feel slightly annoyed._

_But for that exact reason, Athrun's curiosity was piqued. That he felt some reaction at all was a feat, considering that this man was as interesting as the mollusk on the rock. Still, Athrun couldn't resist._

_He looked at the man who was one broad office table, two years and ten grades of highly annoying stuff apart from himself. "Aren't you upset that I want to be with her?"_

_Yuna sneered at him. "Who do you think you are, Alex?"_

_Athrun decided that Yuna wasn't intending to have him answer truthfully or at all, and thus he decided to hold his silence._

"_No, I don't think you know who you are. Or maybe, you don't know what you are not." Yuna looked at his fingernails with a touch of frivolity and nonchalance. It might have been a philosophical statement, except that the context was one of an insult._

"_I don't understand." Athrun said in a brittle tone._

_Yuna failed to see Athrun's displeasure, but smiled gratuitously at him. "No, I didn't expect you to Alex. But let me put it simply for your sake." He paused dramatically. "Plenty of men want to be with her. If I had to be upset with everyone, Alex, I'd never have a moment of peace. The main point is that she won't be with anyone else but me."_

"_What makes you so sure?" The words were escaping before Athrun could bite back his tongue and politely excuse himself to leave the room. As it was, he was having difficulty trying to stop himself from punching the daylights out of the insufferable slug._

_It wasn't just annoyance he was feeling, Athrun realized. He was feeling envy and bitterness at what Yuna was saying._

_Yuna shrugged. "There are plenty of reasons- she is what Orb considers a Princess and you might say I'm considered the Crown Prince of the Emirs."_

"_Do you think that she'll choose to be with you just because of that?" Athrun's disbelief made Yuna turn a strange colour of puce._

"_There are other reasons of course," Yuna spat. "But the main reason is that I want her to be with me." _

_Yuna turned on him scathingly, with a small, acidic smile on his pale-skinned face. "You might even say that she turned out to be quite lovely."_

_He got up, walking to the painting that hung directly opposite from where he sat. Athrun stood very still, watching as Yuna stroked Cagalli's face with her defiant expression. "I know she seems like a little tigress, but frankly, I like my women tamable. Especially those with plenty of spunk- those make worthy conquests. Either way, you might say we are well suited and that she needs me in more ways than one."_

"_I see." Athrun found his insides curling in distaste. "Would it change anything if I told you that I came to Orb because of her?"_

_  
"Did she tell you that she wanted you to be with her?"_

_Moments after they'd found Kira and brought him to safety, the broadcast had announced a ceasefire. Cagalli had dismounted with him, both of them silent as the surroundings filled with activity and noise. In that moment, they had known that their childhood had long vanished with the last of the debris in the darkness of space. But they were alive still._

_They'd both watched as Lacus ran to Kira's side, Kira unconscious with weakness but peace in his expression. Kira had seemed to be in a slumber he'd never enjoyed before. If he woke up, he would wake to a world he had chosen to strive forward in._

_Cagalli had stood with him in a tiny, quiet space amidst the throbbing, collective will of the soldiers and personnel around them. Someone had moved towards her, asking if she was hurt, and he watched her shake her head numbly. And he had felt her take his hand and lead him away; away from all those crying and screaming, those grieving and rejoicing, those unconscious from injuries, those busy with the wounded and seeing to ship operations; all those who had survived along with the two them._

_They'd found themselves in that same place where there was only darkness beyond their windows- where she'd sworn she would protect him. And they had watched their tears falling, floating in the air as part of the anti-gravity zone. She had smiled shakily at him, and he'd reached forward to take her in his arms and kiss her. As he did so, he found her hesitant as they'd always been- hesitant but seeking him as he sought her._

_For the days after that in the aftermath of the Jacchin Due battle, they'd been caught up with helping to restart operations and tending to the wounded. But as the soldiers returned to their bases and things started getting sorted out, she'd found him alone in his room on his bed. He had been sitting there with all his things packed around him. _

_He'd pulled her to him, trying to find the words to tell her that he was going to return to the Plants that evening. There had been no other option that he could see. The war crimes he'd committed had to be faced, and there were things to settle back in Aprilius with his father's death. He looked at her and wondered how he could tell her all of this and how she would react But he needn't have bothered wondering, for she had looked at him and whispered, "Don't go. Be with me."_

_Athrun looked at Yuna. "Yes. She asked me to be with her."_

_He watched as Yuna's expression darkened. But it cleared, and then Yuna laughed. "You mean she wants you there as a bodyguard."_

_Athrun wondered why the blood was rushing out of his face. There was no real reason as to why he needed to feel affected by what Yuna was saying. Athrun had heard enough from people around Cagalli that nobody thought much of this Seiran Emir. _

_Cagalli had voiced similar sentiments as well, although it was uncommon for her to speak ill of anyone behind the person's back. She'd vaguely mentioned that Yuna Roma Seiran was well known for being eccentric and a bit inefficient in his work. _

_Well more than that, actually- he'd heard her mutter that she felt dumber by the second while sticking around Yuna. It had pleased Athrun to no end, although his reserve had kept him from snogging her in the middle of the day- in her office. All that mattered was Cagalli's support for their relationship and her resentment towards being a pawn of Orb and a potential trophy wife._

_Or so Athrun had thought._

_But Athrun did feel that Yuna's nails were starting to reach beneath his skin. If anyone could get to him, the person was either someone close or someone who spoke the truth. _

_Since it was not the first, Athrun suspected it was the second possibility, even though he disliked the thought of that. Looking firmly at Yuna, Athrun told him, "I doubt she wants me with her solely because she wants someone to protect her." _

_Yuna raised a thin, plucked brow. "Dare you contradict me, Alex?"_

"_No, sir." Athrun's voice was mostly mild but there was a note of aggression that had entered. The 'sir' was emphasized with Yuna's special brand of odious sarcasm, and Athrun congratulated himself for a second. "I'm just stating a fact. Her engagement to you wasn't by her own choice."_

"_That's why it's even more important," Yuna said firmly. His eyes flew to the portrait, and Athrun knew who he was looking at in particular. Present on the nine year old Cagalli's shoulder was the weight of her father's hand. From her posture, it seemed to be the only thing that kept her present for the procedures of portrait-taking while seated next to the other child._

_His smile turned gloating, and Athrun realized that Yuna had really been gaining momentum to his point. More than that, Yuna had provoked Athrun sufficiently to get a particular reaction from him. _

"_Our fathers' wills are in this. My father is currently head Emir, you know, and I will probably be as well, because Cagalli's too young and inexperienced and the Council of Elders will probably hand the reins over to me and hope that we will marry to facilitate that. Either way, she's perfect for my qualifications."_

"_I see." Athrun said politely, but with ice in his face and voice._

"_A head Emir's son is a rather important figure you know," Yuna continued. "The head Emir is the superior of all the other Emirs from his Noble House. And my father is not just a Seiran Emir- he's the Seiran Emir who heads the rest of the Seiran Emirs. I am sure the Council of Elders agree that my marrying Cagalli will be a very good move for Orb- my father, after all, is the head Emir."  
_

_Athrun weighed his option and decided not to say 'suck my balls' to the person at the desk. For that matter, he would not reveal anything that would get him booted out from the Atha Estate. Last he had checked, Athrun knew that the Council of Elders would be highly unhappy to know that the Orb Princess was pursuing a relationship with Athrun Zala. If he had to sit here and suck it up, he'd do it if only to continue staying by her side._

"_Well, I suppose you're to be forgiven for being attracted to my fiancée," Yuna said primly, pressing his fingers together. "She isn't scarring to look at- she is rather attractive in many ways even without long hair and a proper dress. More importantly, she's got wealth attached with that very surname, and she really is quite pleasant once you learn how to handle her. And after all, my Cagalli is the Orb Princess. I can see how there are plenty of opportunities for one to gain Orb citizenship and to climb the ladder that way."_

"_I didn't like her because she could get me into Orb- or because of her power." Athrun said. Every word was a thin slice of anger from the next word._

"_Come now," Yuna laughed. "She doesn't seem like your sort. She's very feisty even by my standards- you look like you go for wallflowers. She's more than a match for me, let alone you. You'd never stand a chance getting near her. You should stick to the wallflower kinds. Or at least, your-" His lips curled. "Your kind."_

_Athrun's tone was very curt. "I don't understand what you mean." _

_There was a pause as both stared at each other. The dislike was mirrored in each other's faces._

"_You're a Coordinator, aren't you?"_

"_Why should that matter?" Athrun hadn't expected to come across as so brash, but it had long appeared that way. In fact, he decided that he owed Yuna a barb or two. Besides, his forced courtesy and self-imputed identity had long worn thin._

_Yuna pressed on. "But you are one- right?"_

_He matched Yuna's smugness with a thinly-concealed dislike. "Have you met Naturals with this hair colour? Or is that colour of yours natural too?"_

_Yuna gave him a look that suggested he was glaring at Athrun, except that his jaw appeared weak no matter what and his arguably handsome features seemed phony in that light. "I inherited it from my mother, so it's natural. I'm a Natural, Alex, unlike you."_

"_Well," Athrun said thoughtfully. "That means I'm a Natural too." His eyes regarded Yuna sharply. "If that distinction matters at all when we're here in Orb."_

_He watched Yuna's face go red with the exposure of his fallacy._

"_You think you're unique," Yuna declared. "But not here in Orb, where you throw a stone and you hit a Coordinator." He laughed at his own expression and took another swig of whatever he was drinking that he hadn't bothered offering to Athrun. "One wonders why we don't throw more rocks."_

_Athrun ignored the hatred welling up in him._

"_I will enlighten you then, Alex. Coordinators are what we Orb Naturals think of as," Yuna paused for dramatic effect, "-necessities. Effective working machines who make our economy much better than it would be. Even Coordinator labourers work so much better than Naturals. It's in their genes to slog and to produce brilliant results- literally!" _

_Yuna laughed at what he imagined as a particularly clever turn of phrase. _

"_I'm sure my darling thinks so too. I will give you credit for what you are naturally gifted at, Alex- I'm a very fair person who accepts that Coordinators can do what we Naturals can't, and that's why Cagalli has hired you."_

_Athrun was silent. He wondered how to penetrate the impervious perceptions that Yuna had of Cagalli and him. _

_He wondered if the best of humane efforts would succeed. And then he wondered whether Yuna was saying something that was unwise, considering that Orb's policies were to maintain Natural-Coordinator relationships in the best way possible. _

_At the same time though, Athrun understood that what Yuna was saying was probably true. The only reason why Naturals could accept Coordinators was that the latter could contribute to their society. This didn't necessarily mean that all of the Orb society and the Orb Nobles accepted Coordinators in every sense of the word. They didn't have to, not even if this society appreciated Coordinator abilities._

_And Yuna was confirming this._

"_In Orb, if you think Coordinators are welcome here, you are not wrong. But you are not right to think that the Council of Elders will let any random person, such as yourself, go near to the Orb Princess." Athrun watched as Yuna tapped his fingers irreverently on the surface of the spotless glass. "I don't know how both of you met, and I don't want to know either. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't run a check on you and found nothing. In any case, your details have never mattered at any point."_

"_Yet you ran a check on my background." Athrun was skeptical._

_Yuna stared at him impudently. "Only to ensure you weren't some Coordinator trying to harm my fiancée. Once you were in the clear, all that matters is that you don't overstep the boundaries that no other Coordinator in Orb would dare step over either."_

"_What boundaries are you referring to?" Athrun said sharply._

_He watched as a small smile made its way onto Yuna's face. Had he been led into this situation right from the moment he'd been sent to this office?_

"_To put it in a crude and highly blunt way," Yuna told him, "You are here to work. You are not to seduce or to misguide her."_

"_You think that she's not worthy of choosing who she wants to be with?" Athrun said quietly._

"_Let's just say that she can be a little naïve at times- especially as to what's good for her and what I need from her. There's the political support she can give me- amongst other things." Yuna's grin was ghoulish. "I've spoken to the Head of the Council of Elders, who of course, is my father's very good friend. He agrees that it would be best if we could marry soon. The last I checked, nobody even knew who you were or where you popped out from- except that you're her bodyguard. So if you continue doing your job, nobody will bother you. You should keep it that way."_

_Athrun looked defiantly at him. "What if I told you that she wants to be with me?" _

_Yuna began to laugh until he was bent double with his mirth._

"_She's met Coordinators like you her whole life. They- both the Coordinators and Naturals- they looked at her even when she was a mere child of ten." Yuna sat up straighter. "I grew up with her and watched the important visitors all agree that she would become a force they'd reckon with. You think I don't know that men look at her all the time and wonder what it would be like to be near her?" His laugh was scornful. "It didn't take our parents' wills for me to decide that she was the only one who was good enough for me."_

_Athrun said nothing. It struck him that he knew nothing about Cagalli's childhood and that she'd never offered anything to him about it. Yuna however, seemed to be quite familiar with all that, and it occurred to Athrun that Cagalli must have grown up with this person. A twinge of envy compelled Athrun to look down for fear that he would glare at Yuna Roma Seiran without any good reason to._

"_We used to play hide and seek all the time." If Athrun might have expected some kind of sentiment, he found only a goading arrogance in Yuna's voice. "She would run and I would always find her. She would visit every weekend with her father- until I had to leave for my studies abroad. She must have missed me very much, because she ran away from home. She was very fond of me, I can assure you. Still is."_

_Athrun wondered why Cagalli had never told him much about her childhood. He wondered if he ought to ask her to- then decided not to make a note of it. If he was unwilling to say anything about his childhood for fear of remembering his father, then it didn't seem fair to ask Cagalli to talk about hers._

"_What a very pretty child she was," Yuna sighed. "And in some ways, she's still a child, isn't she?" He looked at Athrun poisonously. "She needs to be guided to do what's best for her."_

_Yuna tapped his fingers fondly on the table._

"_That golden hair and eyes of hers is rather fetching. I used to comb it all the time when we were children before she had it cut. Such a pity- I wonder if she knows how much I miss those braids."_

"_I wonder." Athrun muttered drily._

"_And she does have a very nice smile." Yuna said pompously, almost as if Cagalli had regularly bestowed it on him. Well actually, Athrun wasn't sure and he felt himself feel slightly put-off. "It could work magic on the adults. My parents love her as if she was their child too. They always gave her dresses and candies to eat- they've always seen her as their daughter, which definitely appealed to Lord Uzumi." Yuna looked condescendingly at Athrun. "Cagalli was the apple of his eye, you know. He wouldn't want just anyone near his darling child."_

_From what Yuna was saying, Athrun inferred that she had probably grown up privileged, admired, and perhaps even spoilt. But he was aware that Yuna was showing off insider information that Athrun had never really gotten access to, and Athrun was aware that the information was rather important in many ways._

"_And let me tell you something else, Alex. I was glad that I returned to Orb to take my place as a Seiran Emir, although the First War was about to break out and I could have spent my time in Paris." Yuna leaned forward slightly. "Because I thought I'd meet her again. You can imagine my disappointment when I found she'd run off to some desert and become some resistance fighter. That face and that golden hair- that power- that loveliness- on the likes of some random resistance!" His eyes glinted in disapproval and disgust._

_Athrun didn't have the heart to inform Yuna that if Fate had been anymore complicated, Athrun might have well been in the same place as Yuna's fiancée even if they'd been enemies at that time. The same desert was a place that Zaft had been pitted against the Desert Dawn._

_Yuna stared at Athrun. "But she's returned now. And that's why I'm not letting her get away ever again."_

"_What if she doesn't want to be with you?"_

_Yuna stood up. There was anger in his face at Athrun's boldness- especially since he thought that this was coming from a lowly bodyguard. He had ceased to grasp a very simple concept that negated who and wherever Athrun was from, and it was clear in his words._

"_That's impossible. Someone like you shouldn't be stopped from wanting to be near her- there are plenty of others like you and all of you can't be helped. But even if you and a hundred other people want to be near her, I'm the only man that deserves to be with her."_

_Even when Athrun stood to leave, skipping the customary bow he owed to his superiors, he knew why he had never trusted Yuna._

_It wasn't only that Yuna was a schmuck. Athrun could deal with those. It certainly wasn't the sole issue that Yuna was a bastard- Athrun could ignore him easily if Yuna was merely that. It wasn't even that Yuna was Cagalli's lawful fiancé- Athrun could put that out of his mind if he wanted to. He'd already done that, in some ways. _

_What plagued his mind was more than all these._

_It was that Yuna ultimately loved her even if for the wrong reasons, and could rightfully do so._

* * *

Hours before Athrun had returned to the manor and set his plans in motion, he'd made a deal with Yzak. Greyfriars' orders rang in his head, as did the Numbers' instructions. But Athrun would not accept that.

He might have gone to see Cagalli immediately. Epstein had informed him that she had tired herself out and was sleeping. But Athrun could not simply kiss her goodbye and endanger her even if it was the nature of his orders from the Numbers.

Instead, he had entered his office, locking the door and making a call. As the line had connected to Seven's office, Athrun had prepared himself to ask the impossible once more.

"I want you to convince the Numbers that she shouldn't be handed over to the terrorist." Athrun had told Seven. "She has to be brought to safety."

"Where?" Yzak had said caustically.

While Athrun could only hear Yzak's altered voice, Athrun knew the acid dripped with every syllable. As a general rule, Yzak did not take kindly to insubordination, let alone the degree that Athrun had exhibited.

"Try sending her back to Orb instead of passing her to Greyfriars as he has asked." Yzak muttered. "You know as well as I do that he's got people back there waiting for her to return. It only takes one of his followers to slit her throat if you disobey him and send her back there."

"Let me bring her somewhere else then." Athrun's voice had been steady even though his hands were shaking. "I can't possibly pass her to Greyfriars so that she can be used in a trade with Harraldsson."

Yzak's answer had came after a pause. "I can't do that, Athrun."

"Why?" Athrun had demanded. "You mean the Numbers don't care if she lives or dies?"

"I'll tell you the truth if you don't already know it, Athrun." The voice had been very brusque. "The subject must be removed. The subject's outlived her usefulness, as have the terrorists. They will eliminate each other, and your job is to enable that."

"I should have known." Athrun had been unable to keep the anger from his voice. "The Numbers were always using her as a pawn. She's not the subject, Yzak! She ceased to be simply that for me ever since I saw her again!"

"But you did know what she was brought to the Isle for. All along, you knew what her role was." Yzak's tone had been cold. "You knew we were using her as a pawn. You allowed us to use her as a pawn."

And it was true, as Yzak had said. At the heart of it, Athrun knew exactly why the Numbers had bothered preserving Cagalli Yula Atha's life.

He had heard Yzak sigh at the other side. "I think you know exactly why the Numbers didn't want her to be killed on the SS Rafael."

If she had died in Scandinavia, a war would break out between Orb and Scandinavia and embroil Plant in it. The Isle's operations might have been exposed during the potential war, and the Intelligence Council certainly did not want that. Most of Plant's society and certainly the Earth Alliance did not know there was this operation going on and the Numbers wanted to maintain status quo.

These had been important reasons as to why Cagalli's death had been prevented.

"But you should know that there had were even more crucial reasons as to why her six-month stay ensued." Yzak had said softly. "The real reason was because the Numbers had already wanted to get rid of the terrorists by then. We found that she could be used."

All the information that Plant needed had long been milked out of the terrorists through their intelligencer. They were now unnecessary complications in Plant's operations. Besides, the terrorists had already provided the distraction and scuffle while Rune Estragon had taken Cagalli Yula Atha back the Isle.

More than that, they'd taken the blame for everything quite readily, since they'd been convinced by Rune Estragon that the only way for their cause to succeed was for their existence to be acknowledged and publicized.

Up to that point, Greyfriars and his followers still believed that the Danish had been sent to the Plants through a useful contact and fellow sympathizer. For them, Rune Estragon was basically a businessman.

Athrun did not have to be afraid of implication. He was ultimately an intelligencer, and Plant would intercede for him. Even if Rune Estragon had planned the kidnap and had harbored the Orb Princess, the Plants would step forward and speak up for him, accepting his actions as their instructions. Medical evidence would be given to show that Cagalli had required six months to heal from her long-standing chest injury.

The terrorists however, had to be settled.

"We left them back at the Isle only because we had no other choice. We don't want them in the Plants- they're not like the other Halfs or Coordinators. They might subvert our society."

"So you don't mind that they've contacted Harraldsson and are planning to make a trade with her as the pawn?"

"The Numbers know that they are using her as their ticket into the palace. The condition for them to be granted an audience with Harraldsson is that they bring her into the palace." Yzak had confirmed.

"You realize that they are going to try and open fire on Harraldsson and his guards, don't you?" Athrun's voice was agitated.

"Of course."

"Then Cagalli might be injured in it! If Harraldsson doesn't kill her himself, she'd probably be caught in the crossfire!" Athrun's eyes had widened. "Or- or is that the Numbers' wish?"

"The Orb Princess-," Yzak had trailed off. "I'm not going to lie and say you had no part to play in her fate."

"What do you mean?" Athrun had demanded. "Didn't you promise me that she wouldn't be harmed?"

"I did." Yzak had replied quietly. "But that was assuming you kept to your side of the promise. You already knew why we were keeping her for six months even after she'd recovered."

As the Numbers had told Athrun, so long as Cagalli Yula Atha was still missing in Scandinavia, the unwanted terrorists on their Isle could be removed. Athrun knew exactly how the Numbers were going to use her.

As long as Cagalli Yula Atha wasn't found, the terrorists would be blamed by both Orb and Scandinavia. Her presence on the Isle would ultimately create a scapegoat for Plant's purposes.

At the same time, the Intelligence Council was not careless enough to know that Orb could possibly find the Isle in the attempt to find Cagalli. To protect as many as they could, the Halfs had been shuttled to the Plants, along with the original asylum-seekers who were willing to leave their long-time holiday resort. The latter group were made of very few individuals- trials awaited them if they stepped out of the Isle. Overall, the option of escaping a war directly at the Isle was available, although few took it.

Athrun had agreed to his role in bringing Cagalli to the Isle and making her stay. The master plan was that she would be kept from knowing anything until six months were up. On the day of the dateline, Rune Estragon would hand her over to Greyfriars while setting a trap. On that same day, Orb would enter Scandinavia and see that the terrorists had always been the culprits.

That way, a war would be avoided, and Cagalli Yula Atha would go home safely. Better yet, the terrorists would be apprehended without the Isle and its secrets being discovered. Nobody would breathe a word about the Isle or even know its location.

Once Orb had proof that the terrorists were the culprits, it would surely find a way to execute the terrorists through the Galactic Court. The Numbers would never have to deal with the people they didn't want to take care of.

Besides, the terrorists knew nothing about Plant's operations aside from their giving pockets of Danish an asylum within Scandinavia. The terrorists didn't even know that the people being persecuted weren't targeted for being Danish but for their being of Coordinator descent. The terrorists would never breathe a word about this for the sake of their loved ones, and they would not be able to shift the blame to an Intelligence Council they knew nothing of.

All he would have to do, as the Numbers had promised, was to make sure that Cagalli stayed there for no more and no less than six months. He would only have to keep her safe from the terrorists, and never let her find out anything about their operations. In return, they would give him the freedom he'd demanded a long time ago, and they'd cover up for him, as the other intelligencers would be covered up for.

"You agreed to it." Yzak had repeated. His voice had rang with finality.

Athrun had always known that the Numbers were using Cagalli as a pawn by making her stay for six months. He had agreed to it even though she might have been brought back to Orb safely and more quickly. At the time when he'd agreed to making her stay for six months, he had been planning to take her and escape the night he met her. When that had fallen through because of her injury, he'd been trapped in the Numbers' plans instead.

"Truthfully, Athrun," Yzak had said quietly. "I suspected that you might defect. I thought it was possible that you might take her and leave Scandinavia and the operation."

Athrun had closed his eyes. "That was my plan. But she got injured and I had to come back to the Isle."

"You could have helped her escape to Orb after she woke up." Yzak had pointed out. "But you didn't."

But they both knew why Athrun had kept her there. He could not allow her to leave after meeting her again. Even if only for six months, Athrun wanted to be with her. He had done something so selfish as to want her by his side, all while pretending to follow his orders. And in doing so, he had ruined what he might have received for following his instructions, his comrades and even Cagalli.

"That's why I can't risk Cagalli being handed over to them," Athrun had pleaded desperately, "I kept her here."

"You were following your orders." Yzak had said firmly.

"Only because those coincided with my intent!" Athrun had cried. "I am responsible for her safety, Yzak!"

"Not as an intelligencer- your duty is to the Numbers." Yzak had said stiffly.

"I am not merely her caregiver." Athrun had said, his voice tight with anger. "She is as good as a part of me. Greyfriars is intent on trading her to Harraldsson in exchange for Denmark's independence. That is certain death for her at Harraldsson's hands."

"Your orders from the Numbers are to do as Greyfriars wants." Yzak had reminded him. "Harraldsson won't dare to kill her with the dateline so near."

"Yzak!" Athrun's voice had grown with disbelief. "The Numbers know that he's a madman- he's always wanted a war with Orb! That's why he agreed to the ultimatum the Galactic Courts imposed! He's been planning to let the dateline pass, and he'll never produce the Orb Princess or explain why she went missing! You can't pass her to him!"

Yzak had sounded tired. "I know. But she knows more than she should, Athrun."

"Are the Numbers trying to get rid of people who know that the Isle exists for Plant's purposes?" Athrun had demanded. "Is that why I've been ordered to send her to her death? If it's the terrorists, I think you have good reason to. But Cagalli is innocent! Her knowledge that the Isle houses Coordinators that Plant gave refuge to before the First War isn't her own fault!"

Yzak's tone had been accusatory. "It was yours. _You _didn't fulfil your side of the plans, Athrun. _You_ let her know about the Isle. _You_ told her what you were doing here, and you endangered her by giving her that information."

Athrun had fallen silent.

"That's why I kept reminding you not to let her know anything. If she didn't know what the Numbers and Eyes do on this Isle and why this Isle even exists, the Numbers would be less enthusiastic about letting her perish along with the terrorists and Harraldsson. "

Athrun had covered his face with his hands. "I never thought-,"

When she'd found the basement and seen the similarities of his actions with his father's plans for Genesis, she'd accused him of betraying her by bringing her to the Isle. He hadn't wanted to tell her the truth. But more than that, he didn't want her to distrust him any longer.

"I only told her about the original refugees," Athrun had begged. "Not the Halfs, or Harraldsson, or even Erik."

"It's enough for the Numbers." Yzak had said unhappily. "I haven't told anyone of what I know about your relationship with her. But if they knew that you have actually established that relationship with her, that would be just one more reason to ensure she is involved in a scuffle between Greyfriars and Harralsson."

Athrun had been silent.

"More than that, Athrun, your action of forming a relationship with her is a matter of great seriousness, because that was not part of the scope of duty you were permitted to carry out. If she lets this matter get out, you're dead meat."

Athrun had recalled the implications. It would look like Plant was trying to use its intelligencer to seduce the Princess just to get involved when it was supposed to be neutral.

"So you think I should give her up and let her die with our secret?" Athrun had demanded. "You think she'll betray me?"

Yzak had avoided that. "I'm quite sure that she wouldn't say what her relationship with you was, since it doesn't make sense for someone in her position."

Athrun had thought of a portrait that hung richly, framed with gold and aged with an eternal truth in its depiction. He had held back his hurt and listened as Yzak made a sound of discontentment.

"But as long as there's another secret, it makes her more dangerous."

His superior had showed no emotion. "Why do you think I was always so adamant that you remove yourself emotionally from her? On one level, I was afraid that you would grow too close to her and endanger the mission. But more than that, I was afraid that you would tell her what you were doing on the Isle. With that knowledge, she has become someone the Numbers are forced to remove."

"I'm sorry." Athrun whispered.

And Yzak had sounded very sad. "You brought it upon her, Athrun. There is no other way to shift the blame. You were the one who lost control over yourself and you were the one who told her anything at all."

Subsequently, it had taken all of Athrun's pride as an exchange for what he'd finally made Yzak agree to.

The first thing that Yzak had made Athrun promise was that Cagalli would know nothing more of the Numbers' operation within and outside the Isle, let alone Harraldsson's role in all the events that had happened.

Of course, Athrun hadn't needed Yzak to tell him to do that- common sense had told Athrun what he simply could not risk. If he'd told Cagalli that the Coordinators and Halfs were being neutralized in Scandinavia, in particular Denmark, there'd be no end to her wanting to confront Harraldsson.

There were other things that Yzak had made Athrun promise to fulfil as well, and in exchange, Yzak had promised to get Kira into Scandinavia as best as he could, amongst other things.

And that was why Athrun knew he could never stay with Cagalli and have her love him completely in the hours that passed after that. After he'd made her eat and had taken her consciousness, he'd changed her into a set of comfortable, warm clothing.

Moving her to the yacht hadn't taken much effort at all, and nobody had seen him except the puppy Alita, who'd been sleeping in the passageway. The dog had raised her head, mournful and silent as if she knew what was to happen. And Athrun had wondered if Ko would blame him for not letting Ko say goodbye to Cagalli.

In the cabin, he had watched her sleeping. She had looked peaceful at first glance, but there was that grip of her hands against the sheets. Athrun might have fooled himself into thinking that Cagalli could return to Orb unscathed if he followed what the Security Council had ordered for the Eyes to do. He might have told himself that it was unlikely that Greyfriars had long planted people in Orb to harm Cagalli upon her arrival.

And when she awoke and demanded that he stay with her, he had been tempted to. He had been tempted enough to make a promise that he knew he would break.

He might have held her in his arms and stubbornly shut off the world forever. He might have fooled himself into thinking that he could somehow escape with her, never mind that Greyfriars was demanding that Rune Estragon produce her.

But it wasn't fair to those on the Isle. If he'd stayed and fled with her, there would have been nothing to hold back Greyfriars. Greyfriars would realize that Rune Estragon had betrayed him and would have taken his revenge on the aides and the defenseless Ko that Athrun had recognized as his family. The Eyes would not be able to protect the aides without a direct order from the Numbers, and the Numbers would probably sacrifice the aides to keep the operation from being discovered.

Nor could Athrun tell her what he was planning and force her to share his burden. Cagalli had lived most of her life knowing too much, doing too much and fearing too many things, it wasn't right to tell her everything that he carried in silence everyday. He had tried to keep her safe for all this time; even caged her against her will. Maybe he'd done too much.

He'd watched her sleeping, tired out from their conflict and their resolution. And Athrun had known as she stirred slightly that the latest dosage that he'd injected into her would wear out soon. At that time, he'd known that her waking up would be in a matter of minutes. Barnett had timed it for him- she'd timed everything perfectly.

And Athrun knew what was the only way to make Cagalli go to a place. Only by pushing her away from it, would she go. And that was where Kira would step in.

As he'd gazed at her features for what might have been the last time, Athrun finally grasped what Yzak had meant when he'd told Athrun that a bird in the hand was better than two in the bush.

If they both fled, Athrun could not guarantee his life, let alone her safety. But if he turned back and forced her to go ahead, she would be safe.

This bird was free to go now.

* * *

Evening had fallen in Sweden and Kira was besides himself in desperation.

"Why hasn't anyone contacted us yet?" He hissed to the captain. With their outfits and the large jug of beer Kira was using as a prop, it seemed unlikely that anyone took notice of the two men as they moved out of the cavern.

The captain looked nervously at him, both of them walking faster than the normal person here at the market place. The night had fallen a few minutes ago and very few people were hanging around now. But this did not make Cagalli easier to spot and Kira had a sneaking suspicion that she'd either never arrived or that she'd somehow slipped past them.

Kira bit back his frustration, pouring the beer into a drain along the way. The crowds had thinned at the marketplace, since people had left in favour of their homes or bars to hide from the bitter cold that was creeping into the air.

He prayed she would be safe. Surely, she'd have some kind of clothing to keep her warm? If they didn't hurry and find her, the Orb troops outside Sweden would demand that Sweden let them enter. The dateline would be just two days from now once the dawn arrived.

He checked his watch. It was eight-twenty and the soldiers undercover hadn't seen anyone who might have been Cagalli Yula Atha. Frankly, Kira wondered if this was a fool's mission- the soldiers were probably looking out for someone cloaked in grandeur- someone who looked exactly like what they imagined to be the Orb Princess. In other words, she might have been possibly bedraggled, worn down and probably even exhausted or thinner than anyone could remember, and they might not have recognized her at all.

That was a probable explanation as to why the soldiers had been combing the only entry port into Sweden for hours and had not reported anything of good news to Kira. What they'd reported had been mostly that there were the High King's roya guards circling the area. It didn't take a super Coordinator to know what they were looking out for either. Still, the royal guards' presences suggested they hadn't found Cagalli either.

"Perhaps," The captain muttered to Kira, "The tip-off you received was a false one."

Kira wondered if he'd been fooled. For a harrowing moment, he wondered if he'd been tricked, either by Athrun or by someone else who'd known that Kira would suspect the letter-sender to be Athrun when it was not.

But surely, it couldn't be anyone else except Athrun?

He closed his eyes, recalling the seal that had come with the last letter. If a mirror had revealed the precious letters' seals to feature Cagalli' name, then this one had featured numbers. Numbers that even Shinn did not understand; numbers on the seal of the last letter- the numbers that only Kira and someone else knew the origin of.

If one were to take apart a mechanical bird in Kira's house that had stopped moving for a long time, the year it had been made and presented would be immediately apparent in one of its key joints, as was the giver's identity.

In his pocket, Kira fingered the letter's edges. It had to be Athrun. Nobody else would know those numbers. And it couldn't be that Athrun would fake a letter begging him to send the troops undercover to Sweden to find Cagalli. Athrun did not have it in him to harm his friend or a woman he'd once loved very deeply. Nobody except Athrun would allow Cagalli to send letters back to Kira- no kind of captor would be so merciful or perhaps even foolish.

At least, Kira tried to assure himself of this.

He tried recounting the instructions that Athrun had enclosed. Kira had done everything, hadn't he? He'd brought the troops here, undercover. He'd arranged for the whole town area to be teeming with these soldiers, looking out for her. The letter-writer had assured Kira that she'd be here by five in the evening, and Kira had been here at four. But now, there was nothing reassuring him that the letter-writer did know what Cagalli was up to and where she was.

"Why would she be here?" The captain was muttering. "Why here, of all places?"

Kira didn't know why. But he couldn't keep waiting, could he?

He lifted his sleeve, speaking into the walkie-talkie hidden within it. "Expand the radius. Even if you have to comb every corner, do it. We must find her."

* * *

As she approached the gates, Cagalli realized the irony of the situation. The first time she had sought an audience with Pietre Harraldsson, she couldn't have cared less about her appearance.

Currently though, she panicked, trying to neaten the stray hairs and trying to straighten the clothes she was wearing.

It had rained a little along the way and it was as good as snowing, thanks to the chill of the temperatures. In an effort to stay as dry as she could, Cagalli had used the cloak she'd found folded in her pocket, along with its hood. The ice was gathering on the trees although it wasn't exactly snow yet, and she struggled forward, exhausted by her journey.

'Just a little more,' She told herself firmly. 'Once I seek an audience with Pietre, he'll surely agree to send his guards to find Kira and prevent Greyfriars from harming him."

The guards at the gate were staring at what must have looked like a beggar approaching. They looked dangerous, with large guns they balanced expertly in their arms and rather formidable dark suits and heavy coats for the winter chill. Each was at least two heads taller than her, and Cagalli was no more aware of her small frame than at this moment.

"I need help," She called out shakily, struggling towards them as her feet trudged miserably in the ice. The weather had turned colder as night had approached, and the ground was becoming peppered with thin ice. "I need to see your Crown Prince."

Naturally, there was nobody in the radius of at least ten meters. Unmistakably, the gates of the estate were extremely high with dangerous looking ends at the posts to warn thieves not to try at all. As Cagalli crept nearer, the four sentries began saying something that she could only shake her head numbly to.

"I don't understand," She said helplessly, shaking her head over and over again. Simultaneously, she opened her palms, showing that she had no weapon, bringing her hood down to reveal her face. "I'm the Orb Princess."

Cagalli watched recognition flash across their faces. There was a mixture of unsureness and surprise too, and they launched into a rapid conversation amongst themselves that she understood nothing of. But she was sure of one thing.

They had heard the word 'Orb' and they'd seen enough of her features to identify her. Without another word, the nearest one extended his hand hesitantly towards her.

Relief welling up in her, she took it, letting him drop to his knee and kiss her hand. The others were bowing too. And shivering in the cold but thanking her luck for bringing her this far, Cagalli found herself being led in through the gates.

"Bring me to your Crown Prince, Pietre Harraldsson." She said shakily, her teeth chattering with the chill. The trees that lined the estate seemed to shroud the place in a growing darkness and she half-wished she was with a friendly face or with a familiar person. All the same, she assured herself, Pietre would act according to what she requested. He would help her.

As they moved into a grand hallway, she noticed a familiar painting that she'd seen on the SS Rafael- one that featured a unicorn being butchered. Laughing nervously as she was guided along, they moved down two corridors and to the base of a very large staircase. At the same time, Cagalli noted that her reflection on the marble floor revealed a crumpled looking person- herself.

There didn't seem to be anybody around in this palace except more guards. There was one at every doorway and she wondered if Pietre didn't know how else to get rid of them. Cagalli had faced the same problem with her own bodyguards, until she'd taken steps to cut down the sheer number of those assigned to her to a grand total of none.

The place looked almost frosted by icicles, with its grand, unlit chandeliers and pale blue furnishings. There was luxury everywhere- the champagne upholstery and the crystal vases with white roses in it. It seemed mostly empty if one thought of the guards as furniture- there didn't even seem to be a single kitchen maid.

As she moved up the staircase, the four bodyguards still guarding her, Cagalli turned to them smilingly. "Thank you for your help."

They looked at her gravely, and she did not know why they looked at her with some fear and some apprehension. Were they expecting her to be some kind of witch, she wondered? Or were they unsure as to whether she was truly the Orb Princess? She had disappeared for quite some time, for sure.

But she had no time to pause and to think further, for she was in front of a large pair of doors with ornate brass handles. One guard knocked at the door and what she recognized to be Pietre's voice rang out.

It must have been an affirmative to enter, for the doors were opened and she stood there, a small, limp figure, staring into the massive room that Pietre Harraldsson must have been resting in.

With a great relief and gratefulness in her, she strode towards her friend. He was seated near a table, drinking daintily like a young kitten with his pale blond hair gleaming in the firelight. Immediately, she was comforted by his presence and the cheery roar of the fireplace. "Pietre!"

One of the guards was approaching closer, apparently trying to stand between Pietre Harraldsson and Cagalli. But Pietre shook his head, warning the man to stay away.

"Stay downstairs." Harraldsson ordered. "All of you. This is an audience between the Orb Princess and myself. Nobody is to be here but both of us. She must feel safe."

The guards bowed and she turned around, watching them vanish as they shut the doors. Her pulse was fast and she was trying to recover from the physical exertion of walking so far and without break.

He got up, a warm, gentle smile extending on his face as she grabbed him in a bear hug. "How did you get here, Cagalli?"

"Long story," She muttered. "But I don't have time."

"You must rest," Pietre insisted. "Come."

Unable to protest, she let herself be led to a corner of his room. A book lay on the fine glass table in the corner, and there was a cup of steaming liquid that he had sipped from, preparing to rest and have an early night. On the same table, a bowl of fruits was the main feature, and he'd probably just cut an apple. A pretty porcelain plate showed the slices of his efforts.

"Well, Cagalli." Pietre said simply, bustling around to fetch another cup and fill it with leaves. "You are a really surprising person." A boyish grin broke out on his face, and she was glad to see friendliness etched out there. "I was expecting you to turn up on one of these days."

"I'll explain everything, I promise." Cagalli assured him, letting him usher her into his seat that he'd occupied previously. She sat down, not bothering to take off her coat, just trying to catch her breath. He moved around, preparing the drink for her that she gulped down without second thought. "But right now, I need your help."

"As the Head of Sweden and therefore the High King of Scandinavia, I promise to do all that I can." He said quietly, with that solemn demeanor she could remember from their first meeting.

Cagalli looked at him with surprise. "High King? You don't mean-,"

He shook his head sadly. "My father died just weeks after you vanished from the Swedish Royal Yacht, Cagalli. He was ill for a long time."

She bowed her head, setting down the empty cup with a great deal of anxiousness. "I'm sorry. Was he sick with worry about the mess of foreign relations?"

Pietre raised her chin lightly with his two hands and kissed her cheek gently. "Don't worry. Even my sister was worried, but it's not your fault. She took ill too- she's recuperating though. Like my father, she has always been frail in health."

"Oh," Cagalli managed. She hadn't kept up with the news that was happening within Sweden, and Athrun had never bothered filling her in on these details too.

But what he had accidentally revealed to her worried Cagalli now.

She gazed at her friend, getting up from the seat. "Pietre, I need your help. My twin, the Orb Proxy, has somehow entered Sweden. I think he's searching for me here. But my kidnappers are also here and they are waiting for him- I overheard that my twin is in danger. I need you to send you troops to protect Kira."

He stared at her. "Kira Yamato is here in Sweden?"

"Yes." Cagalli said softly, trembling for an inexplicable reason. "I think he's trying to find me, but Greyfriars will surely hurt him."

The High King was staring at her still, and his unblinking gaze made her feel more worried than she could afford. At this point, she needed to keep calm and convince to help her. Thus, she proceeded to explain.

"I'm sure you know that the Danish terrorists exist," She said. She clenched her fists. "Their leader is called Greyfrairs. They were trying to kill me that night, Pietre. I escaped- but now they want to harm my brother too."

He moved away and began to pace by the fire. His expression and voice were deeply thoughtful. "Greyfriars, eh?"

"You know that name, don't you?" Cagalli said desperately. "He's dangerous- he'll stop at nothing to further his cause, even if it involves killing schoolchildren! You have to help me, Pietre! Please protect Kira!"

His bare feet made no clear, audible sound on the velvet carpets, but the silence hung heavy and palpable.

"I will, I will." Pietre assured her. "But you must tell me first, Cagalli." He halted, turning around to face her. His expression was stern now.

"Where were you all this time?"

Cagalli bit her lips. "I don't know. I don't know the exact location."

She thought he would finally see how urgent she was and urge his guards to find Kira and guard him. But she saw a flare of anger in Pietre's face and shrank back, wondering what she had said wrong.

"Cagalli," He said quietly, in a deathly calm voice, "Answer me. Where is the place you were brought to?"

"Why does it matter?" Cagalli demanded, getting up from her seat and taking one step forward. Her legs were aching and protesting from the sudden break of rest, but the alarm bells were going off in her head now. "I've told you that I don't know and it's the truth. But why are you so intent on knowing where I was held?"

"I'll tell you then." Pietre muttered.

He sat down on the couch, regarding her with an almost humorous expression.

"It matters because I want you dead by the end of tonight."

She recoiled, unable to trust her ears.

"You heard me correctly." He said calmly, "Your captor works for me."

The silence was only punctuated by the steady chime of the clock. It was nine at night. In his striped pajamas, she felt as if she was supposed to be reading to this child and putting him to sleep. The luxury of the room and the rich, embroidered curtains suggested his heritage, but none of that could detract or disguise her fear now.

"Impossible!" Cagalli hissed. "He'd never let me be handed over to you. I came by myself."

"Now how is it that you don't see what his plans were?" He said simply. "I've told you already. I made a deal with your captor- he's been working with me, and he agreed to hand you over. That's how you ever got to Sweden. How else would I know that you would come here today?"

Cagalli paled, thinking of the surprising carelessness that she thought Athrun had shown. The locks, the lack of security where the bridge-room was concerned. Even the last detail of having her learn how to shoot and how to pilot. Had he planned for her to come here?

"Well, I guessed as much that he learnt how to control you." Pietre said whimsically. "He took so long in handing you over that I was pretty sure you'd caught his eye."

He began to chuckle, as if she'd told him a very good joke. "Cagalli Yula Atha, I don't think you've really understood that I was always planning to let you in! Your captor called me to tell me that you were on your way here! I only had to wait and to station my guards in the town square and near the harbor! How do you think you got into the Winter Palace? I told the guards to let you in the minute you arrived."

"He told you?' Cagalli said, dry-mouthed. "You knew that I would come here?"

He didn't seem to hear her. "Orb must also fall. It allows these people to survive in prosperity. But Scandinavia will not be the same." He glared at her, his eyes filled with a strange hatred. "You will tell me where you were this whole time- I'll get that information from your mouth if I have to destroy you and Orb. Where are the Coordinators and the Halfs?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said loudly.

He began to laugh, a horrid, mincing laugh that was half-breathless but half-insane. Harraldsson's eyes so wide and childish that she thought she was mistaken.

"You're lying anyway." She said shakily. "He wouldn't have done anything to hurt me. He brought me to safety in the first place!"

His eyes narrowed. "Where did he bring you?"

"Pietre," She said softly, ignoring his question. "Tell me I'm wrong. You couldn't have planned that kidnap. If you had planned it, you would have known where I was. And the Danish terrorists- how could you be working with them? Scandinavia's been denying their existence for so long. You must have been hurt in that scuffle, right?"

"No, I wasn't involved in that, even if I did strike a deal to have you brought to me quite recently." Pietre said readily. He looked at her, amusement lighting up his innocent, angel's face. "I was delighted when the Danish terrorists kidnapped you though. What better way than to have Orb demand a war with Scandinavia?"

"Why would you want a war with Orb?" Cagalli cried. Her confusion was mounting. "Surely Scandinavia cannot afford the war- you couldn't have planned it. It would have been madness. Tell me the truth, I've been-,"

"I'll tell you why Orb must be destroyed." He spat. "They allow the world to think that Coordinators and Naturals can live together. But all that is dangerous- subversive of natural harmony. One cannot mix the two together."

Her confusion was not clearing up even though the danger was becoming clearer to her instincts. "Didn't you hate those terrorists for killing your brother-in-law? They widowed your sister, Pietre! What you're saying-," She shook her head violently. "It can't be true!"

"I ordered Erik Strumsson's death," Pietre pointed out, almost matter-of-factly. "I paid some guards to kill him. He was in my way you know," He regarded her sagely. "He was always speaking out against my ideas. He was a Coordinator- filthy scum. Freja Magdalena was a fool for marrying a Coordinator."

He began to sob with laughter as he got up from his seat. "Erik Strumsson was poisoning my father against me! That old fool listened to his son-in-law's ideas. But it was ruining Scandinavia! He approved of Coordinators- thought that Scandinavia could be like Orb one day. That old fool was planning to renounce the old ways."

Cagalli drew in a few quick, deep breaths, trying to keep herself calm. Her body seemed frozen in the chair that Harraldsson had brought her to sit in.

"Freja Magdalena too- she opposed me directly even when I became High King. She refused to let me round up the Halfs and Coordinators and appeared at the council meeting. She called all the ministers cowards for not daring to stand up to me. I had to get rid of her." His eyes refocused back onto hers, and she thought of snake eyes. "I'll tell you why I haven't killed you yet, Cagalli."

He folded his hands gently, surveying her as he walked forward, the light from the fire casting a strange glow over him. "When I struck a deal with your captor for him to have you brought here, I wanted you to tell me where the Halfs are."

"Halfs?" The term was unfamiliar to her.

Was Harraldsson referring to the Coordinators that Plant had hidden within Scandinavia? Did Harraldsson want her to tell where those Coordinators were?

Even if they were damned, she would not reveal their location. There were innocent people amongst those Coordinators- people like Sundae and Eshe. But from what he was saying, perhaps the Isle had hidden more than Coordinators and the Danish terrorists that had fled there too?

He was watching her with growing impatience. "Come now- you must have known that Coordinators and Coordinator half-breeds were in the same place as you were in."

"I don't know what you're referring to." Cagalli insisted. "I know there were Danish terrorists in the place I was brought to, but I don't know anything else. I don't even know where the place is!"

"You've been gone for six months," He said softly. "And you didn't even know where you where?"

She tried to stand from her chair and took a stumbling step back. Had Athrun meant to protect that information? He hadn't even told her that those of mixed heritage were at the Isle.

Had Athrun known that Harraldsson was after her life and that information?

"I don't know." Her voice was shaking.

He took a step forward and hit her across her mouth. The force was both unexpected and immense, and she found herself in the chair once more. Cagalli was numbed to the searing pain that spread across her face- numbed by the possible betrayal.

"Don't lie anymore." Pietre raged. "He would never tell me where that place is because he wants to protect the people under him. But you have nothing back in that place- so tell me before I kill you! Where are they?"

Cagalli stared as he grabbed her left hand, paralyzed with shock of him turning on her still. Everything was beginning to fall in place and she understood within that moment.

As Harraldsson had said, Athrun would never tell Pietre where the Isle was, because Athrun had to fulfill his duties for Plant and Zaft.

Athrun had told her that there were Coordinators on the Isle, whose identities had to be protected. But Athrun must have known that there were Halfs there too- Halfs that Pietre Harraldsson wanted to neutralize. And Athrun had not told Cagalli of the Isle's location even while trading her in for something.

Pietre Harraldsson was babbling to himself as he pulled her out of the chair.

"I know many of them escaped me. They are hiding somewhere that I can't find. Someone is protecting them-," He whirled her around, twisting her arm more as she screamed once.

"But I agreed to grant that vermin an audience if you were brought here. You know where it is right? Tell me where!"

"Even if I knew where it was," She shouted through the haze of pain, facing the fire that burned steadily and merrily, consuming the logs. "I wouldn't tell you!"

And Pietre grabbed the fruit knife from the table and held it up to the light. His voice was a satisfied sigh. "It's today, isn't it?"

* * *

From behind him, Athrun heard Cartesia cry out. It was an awful shriek that did not sound entirely human. She was crumpled on the steps, unconscious from the pain of having been hurt. She'd taken down the guards she had been fighting with before this, and one was dead, slumped over her. She'd cleared the way for Athrun, although he was still having difficulty getting to the top.

Around her, those she had managed to bring down were still moaning and clutching their wounds. She had been unleashed on them like an animal, he though.

Behind him, Laplacia and Epstein were fending off some others.

As Athrun fought to move up the stairs, he had to turn back and fend off those who were trying to prevent him from reaching the top. The fierce hand-to-hand combat was dangerous, and a palace soldier charged at him. Athrun instinctively reached for his knife and stab the man's leg, trying to climb the stairs at the same time.

Another man rushed up to him, trying to yank him back, and Athrun recognized him.

"You're a traitor!" The man hissed. "Greyfriars trusted you- we trusted you- but you let her escape. You must be sorry that he realized that you were going to present her to Harraldsson yourself and earn the credit!"

Athrun did not wait to hear anymore. He kicked his opponent's stomach and drove him out of his way, throwing the man's body down as bullets flew towards him, using the corpse as a human shield. He didn't have the energy to spare with Harraldsson's guards and the terrorists pouring in for the kill.

The terrorists had sought an audience with Harraldsson, and Harraldsson had agreed on the condition that they presented Cagalli Yula Atha to him. To do that, Greyfriars had instructed Rune Estragon to bring her to Greyfriars. Instead, Rune Estragon had sent her directly to Sweden, and Rune Estragon had even led Greyfriars on a merry witch hunt until he'd told Greyfriars that Cagalli was not on the Isle at all, but already in Sweden.

The terrorists had set off for Sweden immediately and Athrun had followed. But upon arriving at Sweden, Athrun had spotted the Orb soldiers still circling the town square and had realized that Cagalli must have somehow evaded them and gone directly to the palace. He'd rushed there with his aides, but so had the terrorists, who'd assumed that Rune Estragon wanted to claim the credit for bringing Cagalli to the palace.

Athrun did not have to look at Greyfriars' followers to know that they were intent on killing the traitor.

He was the traitor.

* * *

Cagalli found that she could not cry out anymore. Pietre Harraldsson was still holding her arm and she groaned once, knowing it was broken. He looked at her quietly even as he dropped her left arm, aware what the effect would be. The pain in it roared almost visibly but she fought to keep her right arm steady.

She lay on the floor, faint with pain, where he'd thrown her to it. The shock of having him attack her had been enough, but the suddenness of his twisting her arm and stabbing her side had made her realize she could not afford to reason with a madman.

Slowly, she forced herself to sit up, gripping the arm of the chair for support. He was still gripping the knife he'd tried threatening her with, and took a step closer, aiming a kick at her side. The stab wound at her side felt bad- her left hand was near it and the palm was bloody.

As Harraldsson kicked, she tried to dodge it by rolling aside but only managed it partially. She was too weak with exhaustion and the last of her consciousness was fading away. She was near the door, but if she tried turning her back to run, he would surely follow.

Cagalli could not afford to hesitate anymore.

And she slipped her hand into her pocket, bringing out the gun. She could not afford to miss- it was a gun she was used to holding, and she would not let go of it. "I want you to surrender yourself. You'll go to Orb and be tried there."

"You shouldn't be the one making demands here." His face was pale with rage. He must have realized that she was ultimately useless- she had not provided him the information he thought he'd get from her, and he had traded something for it.

"Surrender." Cagalli whispered. "You need to go through the Galactic Court's inquiry.

As she spoke, there was a commotion from below the stairs.

"You're in my stronghold." Harraldsson mocked. "Do you think any one will ever make it up to this very room?"

"I don't know." She said feverishly. "But I'll shoot if you take a step." Her arm was still extended, the gun firm in her right hand.

"If you shoot me," He said calmly. "You will be charged with murder."

"This isn't murder," Cagalli breathed. "This is- this is insurance. I'm going to leave this room- this place- and find Kira myself."

She thought of Athrun with a strange kind of humour in her now. He had taught her so many things.

She coughed and felt her gut on fire, and her vision seemed to blur.

"Don't come any closer." Cagalli whispered. She raised it to his forehead, aiming it there. "Or I'll kill you."

* * *

Athrun could hardly hear anything as he ran up the massive flight of winding stairs. The entire hallway of the palace was a mess. The terrorists had broken in and were engaged in combat with the royal guards, even while the terrorists were intent on killing Athrun.

The Orb guards must have sense something was amiss, for they had entered the palace and joined in the fighting too. Of course, they were mostly fighting in confusion- the terrorists had just attacked them because they seemed to be support for the royal guards. After all, the Orb soldiers were currently dressed like the terrorists- in normal coats and clothes.

One Orb soldier whipped out a gun from under what seemed to be a fisherman's coat and Athrun saw the man aiming at him. Cursing under his breath, Athrun dodged. He did not want Cagalli blaming him for shooting anyone who'd come to save her.

He was trying to get to the top of the stairs. Cagalli had to be there- he'd heard a scream from there. He sprinted forward, trying to reach Cagalli and Cartesia, who had not made it to the top of the stairs.

Someone flew at him, hurtling down the stair with the advantage of the height, and without thinking, Athrun grabbed a knife from his side and split the man from chest to groin.

He kicked something out of the way, not caring to look, and scrambled towards his aide. When he got to Cartesia, he wished he'd forced her and the other aides to stay behind.

But he was steps away from reaching the room, and gritting his teeth, he left Cartesia there and shot once at the lock. Even before he entered, he knew that Cagalli was within it.

* * *

If anyone had broken into the room, Cagalli realized, she would have looked like the dangerous one instead. She was someone who looked like an assassin with a gun in her hands, standing in a posture that looked like she was guarding the door, her back turned to it.

And there he was; a boy really; who'd orchestrated unspeakable things but looked as if he should be protected from the knowledge of such horrifying events.

"You monster!" She hissed, with that loathing she would have reserved for someone else. Someone who might not have had Harraldson's beautiful, cherubic face. He took a step forward, the knife still gleaming in his hand. He laughed openly at her.

"I always knew you were an interesting woman, Cagalli." He said smilingly. "The first time I met you on the SS Rafael, I wondered why you would ever believe in Orb and that Coordinators could live with Naturals. But now, I know it's because you are a fool."

He took a step forward and she did as good as her word and began squeezing the trigger. But there was a gush of pain, a choking sound that she detected as her own voice, and she lost consciousness in the same moment that the doors were flung open.

The last she saw was Harraldsson falling towards her.

* * *

Athrun gazed at Epstein, and his mouth was an open envelope of shock as Epstein lowered the gun. Both Cagalli and Harraldsson were on the floor, and the carpet was stained with a combination of their blood.

"Get her out of here," Athrun ordered. Epstein nodded, keeping his gun and ripping off the gloves he wore to pick Cagalli up. And Athrun hoisted her onto his back with Epstein's help, both of them making their way downstairs.

There were shooting noises everywhere, and Athrun smiled grimly, realizing it was a mini war going on in the hall below. As Epstein moved down the stairs first, Athrun shouted a warning, and Epstein dodged a flying knife in time.

A royal guard ran towards both of them, ready to shoot, but Epstein grabbed a knife from Athrun's side and threw it.

It landed squarely in the man's eye and he fell to the floor.

"Quick," Athrun grunted. "She's in a bad shape."

"So are you." Epstein pointed out. Outweighed by the sheer numbers of those out to kill him, Athrun had suffered a pretty nice bruise on his cheek and forehead and was bleeding from a cut lip. His jacket was ripped and it revealed a nasty gash at his shoulder. He was limping from where someone had managed to shoot his leg.

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Epstein shook his head. "It's safer for me to go down first. There's a long way down the stairs and I'm not sure how many guards are waiting and fighting along the way. I'll give you a signal that it's fine. You stay and wait for me to clear the way."

"You won't be able to manage," Athrun argued. Epstein wasn't in particularly fantastic shape either.

But Epstein held up a hand to quell the protests. "You trained me for this. If I can't last this, I'd be a terrible student. You might consider it what I owe you anyway." He flashed a grin at Athrun and darted off before Athrun could say anymore.

Athrun wasted no time putting Cagalli down and pulling her to a makeshift shelter as they hid behind a pillar on the staircase landing. The landing was wide and a marble balcony hid them horizontally. The pillar would shield them from being spotted. There was still a great deal of noise everywhere and he could hear things falling apart, along with Epstein and probably Laplacia's yells as they fended off people.

He turned towards her, undoing her coat and trying to locate and salvage her wound. But as Athrun prepared to rip a portion of his shirt off, he heard footsteps approaching.

There was a something shoved to the back of his neck, and Athrun froze. But he did not drop his own gun.

Without turning, he knew who it was who'd come up behind him. The only person who could have gotten past Epstein was the person Athrun had instructed Epstein to look out for.

"I give up." He said clearly.

"Good." The voice said. "And that's the way it should have been a long time ago."

Athrun turned around to look at Kira, his gaze steady. "Get her to safety."

Kira's face was beaded in sweat, but his gaze was equally calm. "I will kill you myself if you laid a single finger on her."

Athrun stared at the familiar face and a rueful smile broke on his own.

"Then you ought to kill me now."

* * *

_She thought of Athrun, and the memories of him in her semi-consciousness were awful; mixed in blood and fear when she had watched him kill. But there was still sweat on her skin, the heat of the lust and desire during their sex- all that she could still recall. There was that gaping chasm of emotional hunger in both of them. That had attracted her to him. _

_Somebody was shouting joyously in the distance and she imagined a child and a dog playing by the shore. _

_In her palm, she held the gun he'd left behind. She knew how to use it. He'd taught her. There were diamonds on her neck and wrist and she wore a golden dress that felt distinctively familiar._

_The smell of salt made her think she was in the sea, bathing and swimming with him. But there was blood at the edges of the smell, and she did not know if it was hers, his or theirs._

_They'd lain in bed and she'd teased him, kissing him and touching him but not letting him have his way. He'd begged and she'd bent forward, whispering, "Only if you promise you'll never fight anyone again. Not even when you're being threatened. Not even if there's a war that breaks out again- tell me you won't fight anymore."  
_

_He had stared at her. Her plea was very clear, but he could not afford to make the promise. They both sensed it. Instead, he tried to distract her. He ran his hands over her waist even while she sat above him, and his voice was breathless and a quirk of his lips telling her of his amusement. "I don't think that's what we need right now."_

"_I mean it," Cagalli insisted. She began to get up. "Or we stop here."_

"_That's pretty tough on me!" He protested, grabbing her hands and pulling her back to him. But he realized how intent she was on getting him to promise. They both knew that he had returned from 'work' with some kind of knife graze the other day. As it was, Athrun didn't want to tell her that he had regular scuffles with Greyfriars' followers and that he'd been a bit careless the other day._

"_I don't care," She sang. "You promise me or we'll stop living in sin."_

"_As it is," Athrun pointed out, "I don't get to eat at normal times anymore, I don't get to sleep until you're done with me- and what's this now? Are you going to make me a monk? No more fighting? What's next? No more meat or booze? No more having sex until one of us faints?"_

_She laughed, kissing his cheek. "Well, you certainly won't get any unless you promise me." She sobered a little, looking into his eyes and forcing him to be serious too. "Tell me you won't kill anyone if you don't have to. I don't want you running off and finding trouble for yourself again."_

"_Since when?" Athrun muttered with a hint of a grumble._

_Cagalli put her head against his chest. "The way you did in the Second War. I let you run off to fight and I don't think I should have."_

_Athrun sighed, lifting her up and nodding a little. "Promise."_

"_Good." She said in satisfaction._

"_My payment?" He said with a raised brow, and she laughed. _

"_I thought you'd forgotten."_

_He clucked his tongue._

"_Don't be silly."_

_All of that- the most intense of her feelings towards him were melting into what she seemed to be feeding off from the oxygen supply, and she moved her hand and found it comfortingly chained to something. He was kissing her neck and whispering that he wanted her to be safe._

_She was reading diaries and she recognized his handwriting. He was nuzzling her and asking about her plans for the future without telling her his. And she was in front of a mirror, his arms holding her- snaked around her, his eyes staring at their reflections. _

_She was giggling and dancing, kicking somebody in the process. Someone who told her he played the cello._

_And she was on her knees, looking at him fearfully, hoping he would not see through her lies as he shifted his fingers through her hair and parted her jaw._

_A marmalade cat was on her lap, purring. Her fingers were stained with paint and lilies were blooming in the garden._

_Then he was touching her and she was closing her eyes, feeling his tongue rake over her and his fingers move into her- easing and easing until she felt like he'd turned her inside out._

_Things were different now. Athrun wasn't her captor; he was alive and real and she had been growing to love him again. But then he'd betrayed her by never letting her too close, never telling her enough. And then he had told her that the six months were over and forced her in a vessel, to be sent back to Orb._

_A shot rang out in the darkness._

_James Marlin was standing over her._

* * *

Cagalli woke up with a start and began to cough behind the oxygen mask. So this was what it was like to be drugged. There was that euphoria from being able to breathe in oxygen, having too much oxygen; and what a mess it was.

Someone helped her to sit up, and pulled it off, putting some water to her lips. She drank thirstily, almost gratefully, and then looked up into his smiling face. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was a bit gaunt, but it suited him still.

"You!"

"Me." Marlin said cheerfully. But there was something older about him- he actually looked above thirty now. That boyish handsomeness, the dark brown, nearly black hair, that dancing dimple, his grey-emerald eyes in his fair-skinned, Dubliner's face was made graver now.

"More water?" He said gently.

"Please." She was nearly coughing, trying to lift her hand but finding it too heavy to cover her mouth as she wheezed quietly. Her mind was sluggish and weak. Where was Athrun?

His coat was on the chair, and her eyes lingered on it, trying to focus as she peered through the glass she was almost choking at. He laughed at her and patted her back, as if she were merely a puppy that had been a bit too greedy.

There was something cautious about him, something too hesitant that she did not understand. And for all his energetic merriment and youthful likeability, he was thirty-four and too old to lie to her.

"What happened?" She said dazedly, trying to pull the needles out of her hand. He made a sound of annoyance and prevented her from doing so. "Where are we?

She blinked stupidly. "Where am I?"

He grinned again, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. "We're in Warsaw. Near my house, actually. We can go there if you want."

"Not too far from Sweden." She said, trying to remember and ignoring the rest of what he was saying. There was a roar of sound in her mind but she found no images to accompany that.

"The Orb vessel they used flew you all the way to Poland while the doctors tended to you on that flight. You were basically shipped out of that damned region." Marlin informed her.

"What happened?" Cagalli demanded.

"We found you, that's what."

Cagalli sat up straighter as he explained.

She half-expected it to be a dream that the Isle did not exist. Athrun Zala had died seven years ago, and Rune Estragon- who was that again? She had been sleeping and Marlin was just a figment of imagination- but no. The roar of pain was not making everything fade out but focus in on the present.

"How long was I out?" Cagalli demanded, in an attempt to shift the focus away from Athrun.

"Only half a day," He said brightly- a little too brightly. "Anesthesia helped. And it's a good thing that Kira has darn good instincts and foresight, because he brought a whole team of doctors along when the Orb Intelligence team entered Scandinavia."

"You might have been stuck in Scandinavia, but Kisaka was very adamant that you fid not stay a moment longer in Sweden. And when he roars, it's quite scary. He's handling all the paperwork now with Aaron."

What was surprising, Cagalli thought, was that there was no doctor or bodyguard around. That could only mean two things- they had been expecting her to awake shortly before this, and that Marlin had been cleared by the bodyguards, whoever they belonged to.

With all she could see before her and the lack of a doctor in the room, Cagalli inferred that she wasn't too badly injured, despite how battered she felt.

He looked at her anxiously. "Do you need a doctor to come in?"

"Not really." She gave him a smile of bravado and turned to everything. "I suppose I'm fine if the doctor isn't here to watch over me in the first place."

"The doctor doesn't always know best," He said grudgingly.

"It's just an arm injury," Cagalli told him, looking and frowning at the heavily bandaged arm that seemed to speak otherwise.

Still, there was just a stab in her side- she could see that her stomach was bandaged. She winced as she moved and felt something pierce through the haze of the painkillers. The only thing she moved successfully were the fingers, which seemed removed from the rest of the bandaged and plastered arm.

Marlin shook his head. "You better not do anything. The doctors say you won't be able to use that arm for at least a month even when they've already given you drugs to quicken the healing. Why don't you take a rest and leave it?"

She blinked, settling back. The anesthesia was still in her system and she felt very, very tired. In fact, Cagalli noted, she felt as if her mind was still hazy and a bit unfocused. So she gazed at Marlin and nodded for him to continue, trying to take in all the details.

"There was blood everywhere and those terrorists were attacking the bodyguards and both parties were chopping each other like trees. In that moment, Orb's undercover troops got into the palace. Nothing's on the telly, because people can't take it when it looks like Orb's gone mad." He looked at her gently. "But you're safe now."

"Wait,' She said bewilderedly, through her sleepy daze. "How could the Orb troops be there? Last I recalled, Scandinavia basically denied Orb all excess. They said their national security would not be insulted by Orb's unfounded accusations."

"Stop," Marlin said slowly, looking at her carefully. "Last you recalled, you say? You knew what was going on all this while?"

Cagalli fought back the blush and the flustered state she felt she was going into. She had made a contract with Athrun for that information, and she was not about to divulge the details of that to Marlin.

"Funny how a kidnapper would inform the person of the world outside." Marlin mused to himself.

"Why's it strange?" She said unsurely. "And what makes you think it was a captor who told me of the world outside?"

"For starters, I would withhold all information from a captive if I were a captor. It makes sense because power comes from information," Marlin said simply. "To weaken the will of the captive, the captor often withholds information until the captive is totally dependant on the captor."

Cagalli drew back a breath. The memories of locked doors and endless hallways and the blindfolds that beckoned darkness returned to her.

He looked at her without sensing the turmoil in her. "Often, the captor releases little bits of relatively useless information to gain the captive's trust."

"Is that so?" Cagalli said, trying to keep her voice light.

Marlin's gaze was searching. "It's a common intimidation tactic- a little more subtle than outward threats but a lot more useful when done properly. The captive often ends up quite cooperative with the captor when psychological warfare is used like that."

"Oh." Cagalli managed, feeling a bit nauseous. Hadn't the information she'd sought led her to more questions and not answers? Hadn't she been led to make more contracts? Had Athrun meant that to happen?

Marlin cast a dark look at her. "You have no idea how worried I was when you suddenly disappeared without a trace."

"I'm sorry." She said in a small voice. "I've made all of you worry. Where's Kira and Aaron?"

"Both have been detained. They're accused of conspiring with terrorists for your kidnap." Marlin said impatiently. "Kira was conveniently around to become the Orb Proxy and Aaron was your schedule planner. Aaron arranged for you to go to Sweden, didn't he?"

Her mouth fell open in her incredulity.

"Aaron Biliensky wanted to stop me from going!" She said in pure fury. "This is getting unreasonable! Who's doing all this accusing?"

He shook his head. "I'll try to explain, so bear with me."

And Cagalli sat up, listening.

"Hours before you awoke, Orb openly accused Plant of sending in Kira Yamato to manipulate the relationship between Orb and the Earth Alliance. At the same time, Orb has accused Scandinavia and the Earth Alliance of attempting to murder you by allowing the Danish terrorists some hiding place within Scandinavia."

"Plant?" She whispered.

"Plant's in the strangest position." Marlin said heavily. "It was considered the mediator before this- exempt from the Galactic Court's questioning. But not anymore. Eileen Kanaver has just admitted that Plant and Zaft always had intelligencers into the region and they were directly involved in your kidnapping, although she maintains the intelligencers brought you to safety."

"Basically," he sighed, "There's a long drawn Galactic court case that will stretch out for a long time."

"Tell me about how they found us." Cagalli said, feeling nauseous.

"Us." He said with a small frown that suddenly made him look less well-tempered. "You mean Athrun Zala?"

She looked around with a startled little movement, as Athrun he would be there and suddenly walk out of a wall. The haze was clearing, and there was urgency budding in her. She knew where that urgency was coming from, and her voice shook. "What's happened to him?"

"For starters, Plant officially declared that Athrun Zala was a certified Zaft intelligencer along with a few others." Marlin shook his head. "He was your primary captor, wasn't he? Orb's accusations of Plant trying to get Orb and the Earth Alliance in a bad relationship were very nicely confirmed. Think of what Plant has to deal with now- I'm not even sure whether the immunity from questioning that Ea and Orb gave will be of use."

"Where is he?" Cagalli demanded.

"Resting." Marlin said smoothly. Too smoothly.

Then gently, almost protectively, he leant forward in his chair and told her, "Athrun Zala's detained in the most guarded jail within Warsaw, so don't worry. He was your captor, wasn't he? He can't harm you anymore."

He was scrutinizing her, and she shrank from his stare. His exceptional care with the mention of Athrun Zala's name suggested that he thought she had been harmed by someone terrible- someone cruel and inhumane. But the man he had in mind was the very man that Cagalli knew she loved.

For now, she kept her thoughts to herself because a strong instinct told her she could not reveal anything about their relationship.

"His followers have been seized as well." Marlin said softly, almost like he was trying to soothe her. "Those amounted to more than fifty of them."

"No!" Cagalli said in terror, forgetting to maintain her silence and secrecy. "No, Athrun's not part of the Danish terrorists-,"

His eyes narrowed suddenly, and she bit back her tongue, realizing that he had picked up that she was on first-name basis with someone he apparently thought was a villain.

"Marlin, I want to get out of here," Cagalli insisted suddenly and more loudly than she intended. She raised her hand in that air to make her point, but it was chained by the tube and needle and her words sounded disconnected. "I don't have anymore time to lose."

"What do you want to do?" Marlin questioned.

"I'm going to declare a severing of ties with Scandinavia!"

She frowned a little, lowering her hand, feeling that the lights were bearing down on her too much with the morphine still in her system. "Unless Harraldsson abdicates in favor of the Princess, of course."

"You can't." Marlin said grimly. "You're not thinking straight, are you, Cagalli?"

Irrationally irritated at how drunk she felt, Cagalli glared at her friend. "Says who? I know what he did, what he was planning and what he nearly accomplished! I don't care that Orb's policy is not to interfere with another countries' politics. He was committing genocide- or he was darn well close to succeeding."

He stared at her warily. "What do you mean?"

Cagalli bit her lips. "He was killing those of mixed Coordinator and Natural heritage, Marlin. The Halfs- he called them."

Marlin's eyebrows raised high into his hairline. "Cagalli, he was a philanthropist- his name jumps to mind when a person says, 'Galactic Peace Prize'."

"That was a lie." She said mutely, willing Marlin to believe her. "He wanted to know where I was being held- he thought the Halfs were being held there too. There are Coordinators there too. I bet he wanted to kill them."

"And who says this?" Marlin said cautiously. "How did you know about this?"

Cagalli shook her head, feeling lost and confused. The promise she had made to Athrun rang in her mind.

And Marlin got to his feet, pushing back his chair with a sound of disbelief. "You're not thinking straight here, Cagalli. I just want to know where you've been and what Athrun Zala told you while holding you captive."

"I know it sounds ridiculous!" She blurted out, her desperation robbing her of the ability to convince her one confidante successfully "But he'd never hurt me! He's working for the Plants! Trust me!"

"Personally," Marlin said wearily, "I can't. Not when even Plant is saying that he ceased to be their intelligencer after instigating you to shoot the High King."

The blood rushed from her face. "They've renounced him?"

"That's right." Marlin nodded. "He has been accused of insubordination, amongst other more serious things. You were in the position to be so close as to put the gun to Harraldsson's head and had the advantage of threatening him. Your bullet went-," He paused, "This near to his heart."

Marlin held up his index and thumb, barely an inch apart. "Surely that wasn't coincidence but planned by someone who had control over you?"

He looked at her with an expression she had never seen before from him- a doubtful one.

"Why?" She demanded. "Why do you think Athrun Zala had control over me and why do you think I was instigated to kill Harraldsson?"

"You say Harraldsson attempted genocide," Marlin said quietly and almost to himself. He stood, walking to the foot of her bed. "That's what you think. But his bodyguards say you rushed into the palace, demanded to be brought to their master, and that you held him captive and shut the door."

She stared at his back, not understanding. "What? What are you talking about, Marlin?" Her eyes narrowed and she felt a roar of pain in her body. "They're all crazy! Don't even get me started on them!"

He whirled around, facing her from where he stood, and there was nothing but grimness in his face. "Crazy you say? I'm not sure if madness can be shared amongst sixty people who are all saying the same thing. I'm going to fill you in Cagalli, so don't interrupt me."

She nodded, feeling as if the world was going out of control while she sat there, helpless and pathetic in bed.

"The first thing you need to know is that Harraldsson's half-dead in a coma." Marlin said harshly.

"There was one that grazed his forehead- nearly entered to his brain. But hear this properly- the first bullet that came near his heart was not part of that machine-gun spray. The rifling marks show that. The only gun that could have done it was a close range bullet and that bullet came from your gun. There was no other gun in that room."

"What?" Cagalli gasped. "I didn't sh-,"

"Look," Marlin said firmly. "All I'm saying is that we've no way of knowing what went on for now. The investigation is still ongoing, by the way. The High King's in a vegetative state and can't testify."

"No," She said angrily, quite forgetting her promise not to interrupt Marlin, "He's a lunatic! He tried to kill me, for Pete's sake! For the record, I didn't even get to shoot at him- I'd fainted by then! He stabbed me in the side!"

"Will that be your defense?" He said evenly, tapping his finger on his elbow as he folded his arms. "Self-defense or defense of others? Or provocation? The last I heard was that you would be prosecuted. You attempted murder of Sweden's and therefore Scandinavia's Head. That is both a violation of civil rights and criminal, and not to mention Galactic law."

Cagalli flinched. "Why did you manage to get in if I'm considered a possible criminal?"

He shrugged. "I'm still playing the part of the love-sick fiancé who must be at his beloved's side for every minute he can. They allow that because I wouldn't have gained power from this even if you had been kidnapped. But I'll be defending you during proceedings."

"No!" Her voice rose as a cry. "I couldn't have shot him- I wasn't even conscious!"

"But you don't have proof or a witness that you were." Marlin shook his head. "The only gun found in the room had your fingerprints on it. Nothing else in there. And from where you were lying, according to the bloodstains you left behind, it would have been a perfect match for the bullet to have hit his heart."

Cagalli stared, her face growing white. "No! This is goddamn ridiculous- I didn't shoot him!"

"No, I don't think so either." Marlin told her brusquely. "I think you were set up, Cagalli. I think Athrun Zala instigated you to shoot Harraldsson. You did charge into Harraldsson's room as the guards said, didn't you?"

"No- they brought me to him in the first place! And no, I haven't been brainwashed!" She said vehemently, trying to push his hands off her shoulders. "Athrun Zala has nothing to do with this!"

But Marlin did not take his hands off, nor did he seem to have heard her. His voice, if anything, grew even softer and because of that, more persuasive.

"Then why did you even go to Sweden?" He questioned. "Shouldn't you have been eager to get back to Orb immediately? And how did you even get away from your kidnappers?"

She paused. "I can't tell you that now. I've got to speak to Athrun first."

"You see?" He said, very frustrated. "I have no idea what the heck went on in these six months, but I'm really beginning to believe that the he brainwashed you. You're even on first-name basis with him! Athrun Zala- son of Patrick Zala, _the_ Patrick Zala! He's got a dubious past, defection and two years during which he apparently disappeared before reappearing during the Second War!"

She didn't bother telling him where Athrun had been. Instead, she came to Athrun's defense with a determination that surprised both her and Marlin. "He's not his father!"

Marlin snorted rudely. "How do you know that? He told you that?"

Cagalli fell silent.

"I thought you'd be more informed about his background," Marlin said with a slight frown. "He worked as your bodyguard for a while, right?"

She swallowed, not saying anything.

He shrugged, misreading her silence. "Or maybe you had too many after the First War- you probably didn't even recognize him or know who he was personally at that time. Well, I can summarize his background, which incidentally, will be part of the argument for our uses."

Her eyes hurt and she knew she was breaking inside. Whatever Marlin chose to say were things she knew- but things articulated from a person who represented a world. A world who did not know Athrun Zala the way she knew him.

"Cagalli," Marlin said sharply. "He was the poster boy for the First War- a talented and rather strapping young man even by Coordinator standards. He was the squadron leader for the elite Zaft team. That drew a lot of admiration from the people and garnered a great deal of support for the war."

"So?" Cagalli said defensively. "That doesn't mean anything!"

"Yes, it does." Marlin cut in. "He wasn't the poster boy for the First War for nothing. He was- and probably is- a very good speaker, who was asked to address both lesser soldiers and civilians and ask them to support Zaft's cause at that time."

Cagalli bit her lips, aware of all this. But obtusely, she looked at Marlin, saying, "So? What else does that mean?"

"He would have learnt how to persuade people even before he joined the war. And during the war, he was being featured a lot, wasn't he? Not just because he was Patrick Zala's son- but because he could potentially be a powerful person in civil service with his talent and his knack for saying things people would believe."

She stared, wondering if he had hit the truth. She thought of Athrun, the yacht, even her ease at entering the palace.

Marlin looked at her directly. "Why do you think he was engaged to Lacus Clyne? Because she was the poster girl for Plant, and their parents knew they would be even more appealing and powerful in a marriage."

"That doesn't mean he brainwashed me, even if he could have." Cagalli said stubbornly.

He reined back his frustration with an amazing control she wished she had.

"Well, I've been reading up on him." Marlin said blandly. "To be prepared for the preliminary questioning that's in three days' time. What I learnt was that he graduated with top honours in his class at the most prestigious Plant university, even if he never completed his post-graduate studies because of the wars."

"He has the ability to persuade, and a reasonably sane person would not let those faculties go to waste- especially when dealing with a woman." Marlin said, in that same, quiet voice. "Women respond better to persuasion than force. It's an established fact, actually. I'll definitely be bringing that up in my argument."

"Maybe," Cagalli said stubbornly. "I don't know. I don't really know what's going on either. But I want to speak to him. Now."

Marlin shook his head wryly. "You can't, you know. For so many obvious reasons."

She nearly bared her teeth at him. "He won't kill me or try to assassinate me. He could have done that six months ago!"

"No," Marlin said easily. "He might not kill you, and chances are, he can't because he's been disarmed, just like all who go to meet you. But he might influence how you testify in court. The possibility is very real. Look, half a billion people claimed that Patrick Zala was the savior of the cosmic era, and I think his son learnt a few tricks from old dad too. Why do you think Plant wanted him in the council so badly? Because he was useful with his influence! Because he's more brilliant than the average talented Coordinator, and mostly they wanted to keep tabs on him too!"

"I wasn't brainwashed, Marlin!" Her voice was getting louder. "Does the fact that Harraldsson's a lunatic and he tried to kill me mean anything? How about the fact that bastard probably killed his own father and imprisoned his sister mean nothing?"

"I don't know." He said softly, tiredly. "There isn't evidence of those accusations. The Swedish Crown Princess is still in a coma. He's joined her in one as well, so you can't get him to admit that even if you are convinced he's a lunatic. And those in the palace, his ministers, his bodyguards, they haven't said anything for anyone to suspect Pieter Harraldsson's loony."

"But he really did try to kill me! These wounds prove it!"

"Yes, that's something on our side. But the trick lies in establishing your relationship with your primary captor." He interrupted, dismissing her 'buts with a quick wave of his hand. "We'll prove you had no reason to kill Harraldsson, and then it'll be written off as a logical self-defense or better yet, a consequence of being deprived of information and being unable to trust almost anyone except the people your captor- Athrun Zala, namely."

Marlin got up, looking very composed. "Harraldsson attacked you because he didn't know better, and if you did shoot, it was in self-defence and because you believed Harraldsson was dangerous from what Athrun Zala told you about him and his attempts at genocide."

"No." Cagalli said firmly. "He didn't brainwash me. I haven't been brainwashed."

He leaned forward, staring at her. "And how do you know that?"

Surely, she was not suffering from some kind of dependency on her captor, and surely, she hadn't shot either. Nor had she been brainwashed. She'd been quite sure that she wanted to confront Harraldsson on what she had been eavesdropping on. She hadn't been brainwashed.

Or had she?

She rubbed her face with her hands, unable to answer Marlin.

She had depended on Athrun, that was for sure. He had been her sole source of information, and she had become close to him for the sake of gaining that.

And through that connection, she had developed an emotional and sexual relationship with her captor- did that mean she was inclined to believe what he told her? Why had someone as careful as him left the door opened for her to hear, unless he wanted her to react to it?"

Still, Cagalli threw aside those doubts. She would not allow herself to doubt Athrun even if the world did.

"Cagalli," He said soothingly, coming towards her and holding her by the shoulders gently. "But before that, let me ask you a few question. Do you know what's the most important thing to defend in this case?"

Cagalli paused, looking up into his face. It was an exceptionally handsome face, she realized, even when she had been used to seeing rather good-looking people in her line. She mulled over the question, and then said slowly, "I don't know anymore."

"Then I'll tell you." Marlin said clearly. "The crucial thing to defend here is your reputation. You must leave this mess with it entirely intact. I've told you already, you can use the case I'm going to build up for you- even you admit that if we argue that you'd been instigated is very plausible."

She looked away, biting her lips. "Who could have shot Harraldsson if it wasn't me?"

Marlin was studying her. "Would it change anything if I told you that Athrun Zala's print were also found on the gun?"

She recoiled, remembering that it had been Athrun's gun in the first place. "No, he couldn't have killed Harraldsson!"

"He's been silent throughout his capture, and only God knows what he's thinking." Marlin revealed. "From witness accounts though, it seems like you were more likely to have shot Harraldsson. Athrun Zala though, might be the culprit. "

They stared at each other, and he found that old familiarity come into him as he surveyed her golden eyes. She looked a little worse for wear with her pale face, but he knew that was very little of what she might have been through. She was staring, determined, as if he were challenging her to a fight.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her good hand, trying to recall the events.

Marlin seemed to realize she was in a great struggle. He got up and pressed her very tenderly against the pillows, kissing her forehead. She was too tired to say anything; too tired to absorb everything fully. But still, Cagalli wanted to know.

"How did Kira know I was in Sweden anyway?" She murmured.

He looked at her in astonishment. "You didn't send him a letter?"

"Which letter?" She said, looking blankly at him

Marlin looked troubled. "There was a letter that arrived, addressed to Kira Yamato. It divulged the location and rough time you would be in the place you were found, and Kira informed Kisaka of this in private. Kisaka of course, returned to Orb about three days after you went missing in the Baltic sea. Kira was the one who studied the note, found it reliable, and gave the go-ahead. Kira thought you wrote it, just like previous letters."

She bit her lips, not daring to think of Athrun and the crest he'd forged.

He frowned. "I'm wondering now if it was a fake crest that convinced us all that you were communicating with us."

She remained silent.

"Did you draw it out and explain exactly how to recreate the symbols?" Marlin asked steadily. "Did you tell anyone of this crest so the person could make a replica?"

'Yes.' She thought, thinking of the agreement she had with Athrun. He had told her his secrets for it. It had never occurred to her that his past mattered more than her future, but she had asked for those, and he had not refused her in the end.

"No." Cagalli told Marlin, looking down. "I sent those letters myself."

He stared at her for a second more, and she used all her willpower to hold his gaze, knowing it was the most convincing way to lie. It was true then, for he dropped his gaze and turned back to face the wall, sighing.

"So what you're saying." Marlin said grudgingly. "Is that nobody else knew of the seal and its details?"

She thought of Athrun. "Yes."

The truth was that she had something to hide, and at that point, Cagalli felt as if there was some kind of sign on her forehead stating that she had developed a relationship with Athrun Zala as his captive. Uncomfortably, she shifted in the bed.

She felt ill, shaking her head as if she had a migraine, which was probably not too far off from that. The way Athrun had looked at her before he'd left, the way they'd made love before he had told her that she could leave the Isle, the way he'd told her that it was best to forget everything-

"Tell me how you got to Sweden."

Marlin was studying her and Cagalli looked at him and spoke wanly.

"I was brought on a yacht that was headed back to Orb. Athrun Zala was on board for a while, and I overheard him talking to someone about Kira going to Sweden. I thought Kira was in danger. And when he left by means of a rescue boat, I took control of the yacht and steered it to Sweden. I thought I could confirm what I knew with Harraldsson," She said weakly. "I didn't know that Harraldsson was-,"

And Cagalli broke off, shaking her head weakly. She did not know anything anymore.

"When you're a bit better," Marlin said quietly, "I will need to take records of whatever you have just said. As your defense, I need all the help I can get from you."

"What will happen now?" Her eyes were shut because she felt like she had weights attached to her lids.

"Orb's not the only one doing the accusing, that's for sure. Scandinavia's basically saying that, look, Danish terrorists or not, Plant is guilty of planting Athrun Zala in Sweden. They got him to be a terrorist and convinced the other terrorists to kidnap Cagalli Yula Atha. It certainly helps that Athrun Zala's a trained assassin and has been moving in the terrorist circles for a few years now."

"That's not true." Cagalli whispered vehemently, knowing fully well how much of it actually was.

"That's not the only thing Sweden's accusing. It says that Plant conveniently pretended to kick off Kira Yamato but got him into Orb and let him establish a power base in Orb for Plant's benefit."

Her hands trembled and she felt Marlin hold those comfortingly.

"Don't worry though. The accusations against Kira can be cleared quite easily. Athrun Zala's the biggest thing to settle in all of this." Marlin informed her. "He left Orb with a blemished record- had no place to go because he renounced his Plant citizenship but didn't get an Orb one anyway. So Plant reportedly offered him a renewal of citizenship by employing him as an intelligencer between Orb and Scandinavia."

Marlin did not understand that the additional news made her less at ease than ever.

"Marlin, I can defend myself." Her voice became more resolute, even tough she knew she was being a fool. She forced open her eyes to look at him.

"And pray, how?" Marlin said acidly. "Or can you think of a better presentation of the facts in a case that will actually be in your defense?"

"I can defend myself because I'm innocent and I wasn't going to shoot that bastard anyway." Cagalli said brusquely. "And I'm sure Athrun didn't either, and that he didn't do any brainwashing."

"Both your prints are on the gun," He said, losing his patience with her. "Right now, the existing evidence is against you."

"So what?" Cagalli exclaimed. "The truth is that I didn't do it!"

"Well, that's not quite how the court reasons. The court would look at the gun and say, right, here's this set of fingerprints and here's another. Let's start with the woman first. Why would she shoot if she had to? Self-defense? Maybe. But is that so certain when it's this harmless looking young man who's only become the High King so recently? Well, I can get you off the hook completely. We only need to prove you were misguided." Marlin said firmly. "Which I begin to believe is really possible and in fact, the fact of the matter."

"I don't need you to be my defence." She looked at him stubbornly.

He pulled away his hand and nearly shouted then. "You think you can convince them you didn't want to shoot him alone? Without anyone to prove that you haven't been brainwashed? And why the hell are you fending Athrun Zala? If you didn't do it, then he did!"

He paused, trying to modulate his tone, for she was trembling.

"Someone else did it." She said quietly. "Not me. And not Athrun."

"Was there anybody you remember, who was wearing gloves?" He questioned. "And why frame you for it at that point in all the confusion and chaos, as I imagine it to be in a hall with a bunch of terrorists, and loonies? Who could have done it? Not Harraldsson's bodyguards, would it?"

"Maybe the terrorists were more likely," She muttered. "They would have a grudge against him."

"Well, that's my point." Marlin said in satisfaction. "Athrun Zala was working for the terrorists. Even Plant says that- they also say that he lost sight of his duty and who he was really working for."

Cagalli blanched. "How's that possible?"

"Sweden is accusing Plant of blaming their intelligencer to mask Plant's true involvement- that Plant always meant for their intelligencer to control the terrorists and use them against Denmark." Marlin laughed wryly. "At the same time, Plant says that Athrun Zala is not their guy anymore. If he kidnapped the princess with Scandinavia's terrorist guys, that's only because Scandinavia's terrorist guys planned it from the start, and Sweden allowed it to happen."

And Marlin drew in a deep breath. "The bottom line is that Plant has declared that it's got nothing to do with Athrun Zala, the terrorists and the kidnapping. The last I heard, Sweden was insulting Plant and saying that terrorists could not possibly brainwash Athrun Zala, because Athrun Zala is the son of a terrorist-leader anyway. Sweden even mentioned that Plant has made a terrorist a chairman before."

She was staring blankly. "How could Plant do that?"

"The only bunch who is not allowed in this mess is the media." Marlin said wearily. "The Earth Alliance, Orb and Plant media have been prohibited from breathing anything other than the fact that you have been found."

She tried to digest this, and felt a weight in her head that was distinctively painful.

Aloud, Cagalli began to argue in her desperation. "There's a distinction between terrorists. Athrun isn't one. He and some others aren't terrorists, although I'm not clear about their motivations."

He raised an eyebrow. "So they're secretly terrorists, I guess. For now, anyway, you can't differentiate their motivations. And besides, if their actions were the same as the terrorists, then there's no difference in the eyes of the Court- not when it's keen to hang some people and end the affair by blaming those it can get its hands on."

"What do you mean?" She said desperately, thinking of all the people Athrun must have killed in the seven years. Would that be brought against him too?

"Well," He said thoughtfully. "First of all, in court we could establish manslaughter from premeditated murder for different sentences. But for this whole messy case, where international relations and galactic securities are concerned, I suppose there's no point using that tactic. If the terrorists are found guilty of their accused charges, which even include _attempting_ terrorists acts or having the _intention_ to, then there's no point wrangling it as manslaughter or misled killings. A terrorist is a terrorist who gets hanged. The only issue is where he's hanged and who gets to hang him."

"So you're saying that as it is, Athrun's not going to be safe?" Cagalli mumbled, "Even if he killed only in self-defense?"

He couldn't have killed. He'd promised her, hadn't he?

"Oh, don't have to worry about him." Marlin said flippantly. "Worry about yourself first. If they don't admit their motives and establish their premises for kidnapping you, they'll be terrorists. Oh but even if they do, they'll still be terrorists, which means-," He drew a line over his throat.

Cagalli's hands shook even when she clasped them together. She was prepared to write a statement pardoning Athrun's role in her kidnap and bringing her to the Isle involuntarily. But would the courts find some way to show that the statement was invalid? What if the courts dug deeper and realized she was bound to Athrun by emotions and even a physical relationship?

"In a nutshell," Marlin spoke. "All the terrorists are ensured the death penalty by international jurisdiction if found guilty of kidnapping you. That encompasses everyone, terrorist-motivation or not. Athrun Zala's definitely striking down every zone. His silence isn't helping either."

Cagalli felt distinctively sickened.

"How did he treat you?" He asked carefully. "While you were a captive?"

"Very well." She was afraid to say anymore, because she was suddenly reminded about how happy she'd been by his side. Time had stopped then. Now it was flowing again, beyond her control, and Marlin was supposed to be on her side.

"Not even a single incident where any violence was used against you?"

"None." Cagalli said firmly, trying not to think of the incident when Athrun had chained her to the bed and told her he would break her arm if she didn't cooperate.

"Any mind games? Any interrogation?"

"No." She lied, trying not to recall Athrun's withholding of nearly all the information and how he had essentially forced her to tell him of the circumstances in which he had left Orb.

"No effort to intimidate you at all?" He was certainly being very thorough, as his profession had probably demanded of him.

Cagalli bit her lips, discounting all the times Athrun had actually threatened her.

All that was in the past. Athrun hadn't meant that. He couldn't have- he loved her, didn't he? He'd never said it- but he did. He did. He had to.

And frightened, she cast her eyes towards the still pacing Marlin, knowing fully well that a victim of Stockholm's Syndrome would have certainly thought in the same pattern she had just found herself using.

"That's persuasive still." Marlin said quite instantly. "It's precisely because Athrun Zala was so gentle with the captive that the you trusted him."

"Wait-," Cagalli butted in. "So you really think he's the one behind all this?"

"Obviously he is," Marlin said so surely and so confidently that her own belief was shakened for that minute. "And even if he isn't, well-," He shrugged. "The whole purpose of me defending you is to make sure the blame of what's happened doesn't fall on you."

"What's the worst case scenario?" Cagalli whispered.

"That the evidence shows you shot Harraldsson." Marlin told her bluntly. "Which is quite possible as the investigation is going. I'd argue that you were entirely vulnerable and totally dependant on the key instigator of the crime- and that your state of mind was so frail that you were likely to attack anyone you saw. Unfortunately, that person happened to be the High King of Scandinavia."

Cagalli couldn't believe her ears. Had all her appeals been dissolved by the air? "Wait- you mean you don't believe me when I say I didn't shoot Harraldsson? Marlin, I've already said that-,"

"No, no." Marlin interjected immediately. "I believe you. That's why I'm defending you."

"So you're going to lie?" Her voice was sharp.

He looked surprise at her harsh tone. "Am I lying? I'm not, am I? I'm merely presenting the facts in a manner that puts you in the best light."

"What about truth and justice? The right argument?" She argued.

"To use the language of solicitors," Marlin told her bluntly, "The right argument is the winning argument."

"So you're going to blame Athrun Zala for what's happened to Harraldsson?" She said incredulously.

He rumpled his tie and pulled it off impatiently, folding his hands together and surveying her. "Cagalli, I don't have the time to be arguing with my client. When I was still practicing, I'd seen my fair share of self-destructive, quite suicidal clients who basically wanted to go to jail but hired me to defend them. Do you wonder why I became a state prosecutor? It made the job far easier. Anyway, my point was that I never expected you to be one of those crazy clients."

"I'm not trying to be difficult!" Cagalli said, upset by everything and bristling with indignation now. "I just don't see why you need to cook up a story-,"

"Cook up a story?" Marlin said with an equal amount of indignation, "I'm trying to help you here, Cagalli! Now, let's cut this argument short. Listen to the case I'm building up, and tell me if you think the court will buy it. Be objective here." He cast a dark look at how she was staring mutely at him. "And remember I'm still refining it. By the time I'm through and I've cited the relevant cases to back this up, it will be quite airtight."

And Marlin finished with a swig of his tea, staring in disgust at how diluted it was. The bounce was back in his step, and Cagalli understood why he had been so highly sought after in private practice, and so well respected when he had joined the attorney general's chambers. He was brilliant, she thought dazedly. Brilliant, but so dangerous as well.

Her eyes grew wide in her face, and she tried to get up and stand from her bed. He forced her down immediately

"Marlin," She said fearfully. "The clearing of the charges- can't it be done in another way?"

He stared at her.

"If you can come up with a more convincing way, I'll call you God." Marlin looked at her firmly. "Remember that the sooner you clear your charges, the faster the faith in your will be restored for your government. You want that, don't you?"

"It's just my reputation," She said, her eyes flashing defiantly.

He laughed openly. "Oh, come now. The day I was called a rake by some lousy tabloids, I was banned from visiting the old Queen. As if I would seduce her by presenting her with a new set of dentures or something!"

Somehow, his irreverence made her feel slightly more normal, and she tried to smile. But his message was grim, and Cagalli understood her foolishness in undermining the importance of her reputation.

"You of all people should know what reputation means." Marlin told her. "You were the one who initiated the Orb statute conferring most of the media's independence to your government! You know how damaging a spoilt reputation can be. And there's one more thing- you're not in Orb anymore, Cagalli."

She raised her eyes to him, realizing that he was looking at her soberly but with a tenderness that made her feel slightly less alone. He admonished her, but in such a sincere manner that she could not feel grudge towards him but gratefulness instead.

He shook his head slightly. "Try leaving the international courtroom with the smallest doubt left unbanished and your government will let it fester, controlled media or not. You're the Princess of Orb, you're twenty-five going on that dangerous age of twenty-six, and the clause in that particular act will be coming into effect soon. The Orb nobles are expecting you to refuse to marry anyone the council picks, no matter how fantastic he happens to be."

"Think, Cagalli! If you were a minor Orb royal knowing that the current ruler is particularly well-liked by the people such that they would dismiss that act and say that it is obsolete and draconian just to keep Cagalli Yula Atha in her position, what would you do to get her out of your way?"

Cagalli knew the answer.

"You'd bring up a case where doubt of her actions was justified and unaddressed, that's what!" Marlin said vehemently. "Kira and Aaron Biliesnky already thought of that risk, so I was brought in to make it look like you had no problem with that clause. But we know that's just a charade."

She nodded, looking guiltily at him, but he didn't seem to mind having told the world he was her fiancé and having been hounded by the media every day. In that moment, Cagalli grasped what she needed to do. Marlin was her one ally, and she needed to make him understand that she and Athrun were innocent.

"Now look here, Cagalli. I know you better than any person in that courtroom. You aren't keen on being bullied into marriage, that's for sure. When this case ends, no matter what the outcome, you will still be expected to marry- if not at twenty-six, then a few months after that at very latest. As for this case, you are either guilty or innocent."

"If I'm found guilty?" She said fearfully.

"If you are guilty, there will be no better way of putting your reign to an end- an earlier end then it should have been. I suspect those planning to take power in Orb will always have dirt they can dish if you leave any stone unturned in this case. You'll conveniently be posted out somewhere in no time at all."

She turned pale. "But I've been running Orb better than they can ever do! My father didn't have to marry- he adopted- he didn't have to abdicate-,"

Marlin nodded, holding a hand up to pause her. "But Lady Sahaku abdicated in favour of your father for reasons out of her control. She was twenty-six when that particular law had its effect on her. If you are in her situation, with a nicely-stained record, I don't doubt that you'll be be asked to step down."

"My father-," She began to argue.

"Your father reigned in times when Orb was tasting power and fortune. Not that it isn't' now, but your father was an anomaly." He said simply. "You are unlikely to repeat that unconventional bypassing of laws that he did. And he was a man. There is that certain inflexibility when it comes to marriage laws regarding females. You may have forgotten it Cagalli, but you are still a woman at the end of the day."

She fell silent, understanding him. His eyes were looking at her, and she knew what his gaze meant.

"If you refuse to marry, and trust me, I know that's what you're planning to do, you're even less likely to get away with it if you have some stained record the Lyadov House will use against you. And you'll probably become an Orb royal in that case, and we know what that means. You'll be simply moving around in those social circles, living off taxpayers' money and doing your duties as one of the national icons like our dear old English Queen."

"Not if I can help it." Cagalli said fiercely.

Marlin smiled wearily, repeating himself. "You are either entirely innocent or guilty. There is no grey area, and you know that. Not when you are the Head of a country that is unofficially the head of the most of the world, save the Plants. And that is why you need me- that is why you can't leave any doubt in your direction. So we go with this claim."

She looked at him doubtfully, and he said defiantly. "It's not lying, so don't look at me like that."

Her frown grew deeper.

"It's not like you know Athrun Zala very well or anything." Marlin rationalized. "Or any of the terrorists, for that matter. But the fact is that you actually went all the way to Sweden just to meet up with Pietre Harraldsson, equipped with a friggin' gun. You were obviously instigated. Maybe by ways you weren't even conscious of."

"But you don't understand," Cagalli said with a cold dread. Her hands were balling into fists, and her nails were cutting into her palms. Marlin's face was becoming blurred and her lips were trembling.

"Understand what?" He said blankly.

"What if I know Athrun Zala- somewhat? I mean- you know, just slightly and through Kira, but it was seven years ago and I don't really-," Her voice died away.

Marlin stood up and paced. Her meaningless rambling now died down. She could see him thinking very hard. He turned on his heel and looked straight down at her, and she clutched her useless arm, feeling defenseless.

"Cagalli." He said tightly. "Tell me one thing first. Don't you dare deflect this, you hear me?"

She stared at him, fearing what he would say. But the question hung in the air even before he had spoken.

"Who is Athrun Zala to you?"

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O days.


	29. Chapter 28

**I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

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**A/N: Well dear readers, I must say that it's been awesome sticking around with this fic and having you stick around too. Special thanks to the amazing reviewers who really bothered to articulate their thoughts and spoilt me with lovely comments every time. (Some of you even came close to swearing at me so that I would hurry up and updated- awesome!) Frankly, whenever I get a review, I feel like cheering.**

**Sorry again for the late update- there's nothing weirder than being in the hospital and rushing out papers for criminal law and jurisprudence while writing scenes for a person stuck in the hospital who later becomes part of a courtroom drama. (See below) **

**It's like I live for fanfiction- except that it's not funny when it seems literal. **

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Chapter 28

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Breakfast was cold water and a slice of bread with no butter.

Athrun wouldn't have minded that at all, except that the water was served over his face and the bread on the floor.

Lunch was a bit less of a surprise- the usual questioning went on and his silence and the obstinate numbness to his face made the interrogators crack first. Athrun pitied them, for they had not been trained to wait, unlike him. He had been trained to wait for a father who'd never quite returned as a child, and he'd spent more of his years waiting for closure that had never come. Unlike Athrun, these guards were far too impatient. As the hours went by everyday, it did not take long for their frustration to be inflicted on him.

As a result, Athrun often found his left cheek pressed into the table surface and a bruise on the other. The impact of the punch was never enough to leave a new mark- it left the same one over and over again that suggested Athrun Zala was taking a long time to recover from an old wound. Nothing would suggest that he was undergoing an interrogation that dealt with more than mere questioning.

Dinner was served like lunch.

For supper, Athrun was deprived of sleep. If there was one thing that he felt sorry about, it was the poor sod who was assigned to deprive Athrun Zala of sleep while depriving himself of his own.

The biggest irony was that nobody had realized that Athrun didn't want to sleep either. His quiet strength and numbed, almost introverted ways made the investigators highly unnerved by him, and they retaliated by demanding that he answer them even more. It was quite understandable, Athrun thought, that they felt as if he was preventing them from doing their job and that they wanted to hurt him for making their work slow and difficult.

It was a pity that his interrogators didn't know that they were helping him.

For every hour of his being awake, it was better than being haunted by the way that Cagalli been wounded and pale, so weak and fallible in his arms. He didn't want to dream of anything- let alone of her.

So he stuck to his uncooperative silence and the questioning went on for the next three days until they were sure he was ready to say something- anything.

"Zala!" He could hear someone rapping the floor he was lying on. "Get up! Are you ready to tell us of what you were planning?"

As Athrun got up slowly from where he'd collapsed some hours ago, he found that his bones were aching like he had been battered. Of course, that was not far from the truth. He was glad they hadn't gotten to water-boarding yet, and he was thankful that he was in a separate confinement cell.

After the Second War, any measure against terrorists was justified legally and ethically in any part of the world and even the Plants. Lord Djibril, as he had proclaimed himself, had set up and arms trade that spanned across half the world's continents to further the enmity between Coordinators and Naturals, and the world was quite keen not to repeat that.

As a result, internal, international and galactic terrorists were not exactly the most welcomed anywhere. Where they were put into was only a temporary hole like this one, where information would be forced from them. Athrun was very familiar with this because he had been the one to interrogate various people over the years while working for the Plant Intelligence Council.

Maybe this was karma, he thought grimly, feeling himself groan in pain as he was forcefully pulled to his feet. Also, Athrun was not ignorant of the extent of questioning he would undergo if he did not say anything. Nevertheless, he kept his secrets as he had promised Yzak to.

"Zala," He heard the lead interrogator demand, "The people you were brought in all say the same thing. Why don't you save the court some time and just confess to being the leader of the Danish Nationalists?"

The question was loaded. They all thought he was the mastermind. They all would think so, naturally.

He was a Coordinator and he knew that the head officer in charge of the imprisoned terrorists disliked Coordinators. The officer had told him so, and had instructed the interrogators to stop at nothing to get the truth from Athrun.

Athrun knew what kind of truth they wanted. They wanted evidence to incriminate him. After all, the officer told him that he hoped Athrun would be found guilty so that the officer's brother would be avenged. The officer's brother had died from Patrick Zala's first decision as the Plant Chairman- to attack the Pacific.

At points, when he was standing in the manacled position the interrogators had forced him into, he would think. He would think so much that the floor seemed to shake, and sleep was always a moment away in a frozen space of time. And in those points, Athrun would fight to keep from falling- even though he always did at some point.

While he fluctuated between the zones of consciousness and exhaustion, Athrun would fight to remember why it was worth clenching his teeth and holding on, and he would fight to convince himself that he didn't need anyone's trust except hers.

To be frank though, Athrun didn't have anyone's trust left except Cagalli's.

Each time he found himself falling, the world around him growing more distant despite the interrogators' efforts to deprive him of sleep, he would think of the way Kira had looked at him. The events of the time he'd last seen Cagalli would play, and he would repeat to himself that it had been worth seeing her safe- even if she'd foiled his plans again the way she had when he'd met her on the SS Rafael.

The lead interrogator that was in charge of this remand centre was banging his fist on the table. As the key person the Galatic Courts were counting on to do their inquiries, he was certainly taking his role very seriously. Either that, Athrun thought sarcastically, or he thought that making Athrun Zala his punching bag was going to get him promoted.

"Who do you work for?" The man demanded. "Nobody believes you were merely an intelligencer for Plant and Zaft- nobody's that stupid here. Even your former bosses don't want to stick around to defend you in court."

When he had been seized by the Orb undercover soldiers on behalf of Orb and the Galactic Courts, Athrun had allowed himself to be taken without any fuss. The Orb interrogators had already had their go with him and so had the Plants, the Earth Alliance, Scandinavia, and the relevant people he'd be seeing at the Galactic Court's decision in a week's time.

"Not talking eh?" The other interrogator had dark circles under his eyes, and Athrun wondered how tiring it was to force a person to say something.

"Athrun Zala!" The lead was shouting at this point. "Why did you turn up at the Swedish Place? You were already not part of the Eyes by then, right?"

His silence made them angrier. Athrun though, knew it was true. By the time he had entered the Swedish Palace, he had been working for nobody but himself.

"Did you shoot the High King?" The other interrogator used a more direct line of questioning. "You entered the room, didn't you? You used the gun you carried on yourself to deliver a bullet into his chest at point blank, didn't you?"

Athrun did not answer. He knew who had. And while he didn't think it was particularly blameworthy, given who or what Pietre Harraldsson had really been, Athrun didn't want to implicate anyone.

"Did you plan the attack on the palace?" The second interrogator barked. "How did Cagalli Yula Atha end up there and why where you there at that time? Did you instigate your followers to go there and attack the palace? Or was there an internal power struggle?"

"What about the Orb troops?" The lead interrogator asked. "Did you plan anything with the Orb Proxy?"

Even if Athrun had to that extent, Kira had not been able to find her in time. Nor had he been able to order a ceasefire, for he'd seemd to have lost control over the Orb forces. Similarly, the Scandinavian Royal Guards had neither took instructions from him or seemed to want to. It had been pointless shouting for the Orb troops to stop fighting when the Scandinavian Guards were not backing down at all.

With the unconscious Cagalli in his arms, Kira had stood at the balcony, not facing Athrun but shouting once, then again, for the division leaders to stop. Kira's helplessness had been very clear, and Athrun had wondered why the best-laid plans were always the ones that amounted to nothing in the end.

"Are you in cahoots with the Orb Proxy?"

Athrun did not answer.

"He's not talking," One interrogator sighed. "How do we get him to talk?"

"Tell us what happened then." The other told Athrun directly. "Or we'll have to use tougher means."

It was then that Athrun broke his silence for the first time ever since he'd narrated the events. As he spoke, he knew that his throat was cracking with disuse and his lips were bleeding from being parched. "I've already told you. Anything more would be a repetition."

"You haven't explained why you were there!" The first interrogator exclaimed. "Or admitted to why you were amongst the terrorists!"

"I have." Athrun said tiredly. "I was working as an Intelligencer- an Eye."

"You were working as terrorists- part of the Danish Nationalists! As their leader, no less!" His questioner snarled. "Admit it!"

Athrun looked at him stubbornly. As he had been led out from the palace, he had recognized Greyfriars' body amongst those who had fallen. But saying that would make no effect to the accusations that Athrun was facing. Moreover, some part of him wanted a kind of closure, even if it meant having to say it where the world would scrutinize him for it.

No, Athrun decided. If he ever told the truth, it would not be for these interrogators' sakes or his own. It would be for those he needed to see again.

"Let's try another question." The other interrogator interjected. "Do you recognize this gun?"

He lobbed one in front of Athrun. This was new- Athrun looked at them with growing interest that held some irony and a mocking light in his eyes. That they were showing him this suggested that investigations were complete.

On the table, there was the gun that Athrun had carried briefly. It had been Kira's.

"There were no bullets left when the investigators found it. Care to admit that you used it at one point or another?" The interrogator looked at him closely. "There are your prints on it. Kira Yamato claimed it as his when his testimony was taken. How did your prints lend up there?"

"What did you use it for?"

Athrun stared at the weapon placed in front of him. As he thought about how Kira had turned away from him, he felt a strangely gripping anger swell into him and he felt his fingers tremble.

"Was Kira Yamato in cahoots with the terrorists too?" The interrogator asked.

"I don't think so," The other interrogator told his colleague in a hurried whisper before Athrun could say anything. "None of them seemed to realize that he was amongst the Orb troops who entered- or that the troops were even from Orb."

It was true. Nobody had paid Kira Yamato any attention. Even if the troops had stopped, the guards would not have. As one guard had made it up the stairs, shooting at Epstein and forcing him to throw himself aside to evade, Kira seemed to have frozen. Athrun however, had lost no time in grabbing at Kira's gun and using it when his own ran out of bullets.

"So you used his gun, eh?" The lead interrogator moved around the chair that Athrun sat in, trying to intimidate him.

"He let me use it to defend him." Athrun told them, fully aware that Kira would face more questioning after this. But a little bitterness had long wormed its way into his heart, and the last memories of Kira shielding Cagalli as if Athrun would try to harm her gave Athrun enough reason to tell the investigators this.

Not that they believed him, of course.

"Ho!" The investigator spat. "A likely tale!"

"But it's true." Athrun stated calmly.

Athrun would have continued shooting, save that there was a clink of something and smoke rose from the ground floor, floating thick and grey towards where they were on the landing. As the soldier Athrun had taken down collapsed on the staircase, he took one glimpse at what was happening below and saw only vague, masked figures coughing within the smoke.

Several though, seemed fine and were approaching the staircase quite swiftly, almost as if they knew where they were going. As it was, Athrun had been able to count roughly five people who were definitely not part of the ongoing scuffle.

Kira had spoken, his face more gaunt than Athrun could ever recall but his eyes alert. "What's happening?"

Athrun had no chance to say anything. Even if he had, he would not have known how to explain to Kira that Sheba was probably leading the way, given her familiarity with this palace, and that the smoke screen had been caused by Barnett Romia.

"How is it possible that you could even shoot anyone," countered an interrogator, "When you claimed previously that you couldn't see anything? You claimed that there was a ceasefire when a smoke bomb was thrown by the Eyes."

"I used his gun before the other Eyes arrived." Athrun said quietly.

Below, nobody had been fighting anymore. There had been too much smoke to see what was going on. Yet, Barnett's device had probably made it here in the nick of time.

The rest of the events had progressed as inevitably to Athrun as the way Cagalli must have found herself coming here upon suspecting that Kira was going to be hurt while in Sweden.

"I don't want to know how the fight was interrupted by your supposed colleagues from Plant's Intelligence Council," The lead interrogator barked at him. We already know that from the testimony of your colleagues without you having to confirm it for us. "We just want you to say whether you were part of the terrorists or not, and whether you kidnapped Cagalli Yula Atha."

Athrun stared blankly at the second interrogator, feeling sympathy for both of them. They'd stayed up with him for a few days, depriving themselves of sleep while trying to deprive him of his.

"Let's go," The lead interrogator said to his subordinate in disgust. "He's too stubborn."

"Way too stubborn for someone who orchestrated so many attacks on those innocent people at the palace and on the yacht." The other agreed, talking as if Athrun wasn't quite there. "But we haven't gotten any information yet."

"Ah well- one last shot then?"

"Right." Both of them looked at each other and nodded.

"Tell us why you didn't run when there was a chance to with the smokescreen."

Athrun knew why. The answer had been in Kira's arms.

By the time Athrun had been taken away, there had been enough bodies accumulated on the steps for the rest of the guards to wise up. The Orb troops had paused to see what was happening at the top of the stairs, and that was when the second-in-command had managed to weave his way out of the confusion. He'd ran up the stairs and rushed at Athrun, imagining that he was about to shoot Cagalli and Kira.

And Kira had stood, a thin wound on his cheek dripping blood in a vertical strand of crimson down his face.

He'd shown no clear emotion, but Athrun had caught sight of the slight doubt and even regret on Kira's face as Athrun had been led away- limp in his leg and blood stains clear to all those who'd dropped their weapons and watched. Athrun kept his head high, passing by his friend and Cagalli.

Kira had shielded Cagalli instinctively, almost as if Athrun would suddenly break the grip of the handcuffs and rush at them both. But their eyes had met briefly for that moment, and Kira had been the first to drop the gaze.

How apt it was, Athrun had thought there and then, that Kira had sported a wound that Athrun's cheek mirrored. How queer it was that their lives should come to this. And how funny it was that Kira's expression hardened as Athrun was led away.

And how strange it was, Athrun thought, that their wounds were similar and that Kira would have noticed if only they'd been standing eye to eye. But Kira hadn't given him a second glance as Athrun had been led away- he'd been too preoccupied with the unconscious Cagalli by then.

Now, Athrun laughed.

As it was, the lead interrogator was looking at him in the eye, angered by his lack of an answer once more. Athrun's chin was tilted backwards and his roots felt in danger of being yanked from his scalp, but it was nice to have someone look him in the eye.

Even if a punch came next.

It did.

"What weapons were being manufactured for the terrorists you led?" The interrogator barked. Athrun said nothing, although it might have been due to the numbness of his jaw and the searing pain in front of his eyes.

"And where were those manufactured?" The other demanded. "And where was the hiding place you were all at?"

"If you don't tell us, you'll have to go through more roughing up. You might as well spit it out, since the courts will be grilling you soon anyway."

Athrun thought of all the possibilities. He thought of Kira looking at him with that fear and mistrust in his eyes, and he thought of how he could change that. He thought of Cagalli lying unconscious, weak and pale with her blood loss, and he wondered if she would be fine. He had hoped that she would be found by Kira fast enough, and that she'd see her nephew and Lacus.

Perhaps if he told them, Athrun thought vaguely, they'd leave them all alone.

He was forced to stop calculating the odds of backing out of his promise to Yzak when another blow arrived.

"Stop being so stubborn!" The lead cried, losing his control quite ironically when it had been Athrun who should have been begging for it all to stop. "Just get this over and done with!"

"It's okay," His subordinate assured him. "He's going to break soon."

But Athrun kept his silence.

* * *

As Kira ran his fingers over Cagalli's cheek, he was aware of how tentative her expression was, and how afraid she seemed to be. Her eyes and hair seemed to be spun of the light in his memory, and her posture had always seemed perfect in his mind. Here though, she was a far cry from what the media pictured of her.

The apple she had taken from the fruit basket and tried to offer to him was still in her palm, her eyes wide and her lips slightly ajar in surprise. "Kira, I-,"

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "It was my fault back then- I shouldn't have said what I did."

He had come in to visit her with all intents and purposes of keeping unhappy things from plaguing their time together. But she had seemed uncomfortable to have him in the same room without Aaron and Marlin, and like a stranger, she had busied herself trying to reach for fruit that was near her but not near enough to take immediately. Unable to help himself, Kira had sat next to her and pulled her into his arms.

Alone, she did not seem quite as formidable as he had always placed her in his mind. Without her entourage, she seemed defenseless and less decisive. Here, in this bed, she seemed closer to the helpless, extremely vulnerable person who had lost her ability to speak for longer than Kira liked to recall.

"It was my fault," He repeated, feeling as lost as he had always been ever since she had disappeared. "Please forgive me."

She cut him off by enveloping him in her embrace, shaking her head, burying her face into his shoulder. "Only if you forgive me first."

"You did no wrong." He said gently.

And Kira pulled away, fetching a fruit-peeler and dealing with an orange that he suspected Cagalli was saving for herself. She laughed once, a soft, bright sound that reminded him of the past.

"I figured out you chose the apple for a reason." He said dryly.

Smiling, Cagalli asked without thinking, "How is Leon?"

Kira began to smile too, but then his brow furrowed. He turned around, his hands pausing. "How did you know that we named him Leon?"

She stuttered a half-formed lie, trying to keep the guilt from her voice. She could still remember how the photographs had been scattered across the sheets, Athrun telling her about the child and his hands searching for her as they lay together. She could remember how distracted she had been and how impatiently he had sought her, reminding her that she could not leave; denying her request to see Kira and Lacus.

"Cagalli?" Kira questioned, his voice growing into a demand.

"O-Oh, Aaron mentioned-," She waved her hand negligently, dropping her gaze from Kira's.

"Oh." Kira said suspiciously.

He pulled her away, gazing at her with a growing concern etched into his face. "Cagalli, did you send those letters?"

She bit her lip, then nodded hesitantly. Kira seemed troubled by this, but said nothing, and Cagalli knew that it was unlikely for her twin to tell her anything of his own volition. Still, she tried.

"You did think those were from me, didn't you?"

"Of course." He told her reluctantly. "There was the seal."

She took a plunge. "Did you know I was with Athrun at that time?"

He said nothing as he got up and began to look for everything and nothing. Still holding the apple, Cagalli observed her twin move around to room to fetch a miniature kettle, emptying it and refilling it again. He seemed controlled enough, Cagalli reckoned, although his silence was telling of his unwillingness to reveal something.

"I can handle it you know," She said quietly. "I've survived death a few times already."

Kira turned around, holding the kettle still. His tone was sharp. "It's not that I don't trust you, Cagalli. It's not even that I'm worried for you and the danger he must have put you in." He turned back, beginning to refill the kettle until some water spilled over and he closed the tap unwillingly.

She noticed how reluctant Kira was in saying Athrun's name, and she wondered if she was any different. "Then you can say what you're thinking, Kira. I want to hear it."

He was silent as he plugged the kettle and set it to boil water. For what purpose she did not know. The doctors had already specified that tea and coffee were not to be consumed in the usual quantities that she was used to, and as she understood it, Kira did not really like either beverage.

"Say it." Cagalli demanded, slipping out of bed. He tried to move her back, but she pushed his hand away, tossing the apple where it rolled aimlessly on the sheet for a little distance. "We've not talked to each other for too long. Now that I'm back, you need to say what you're thinking, Kira."

He stared at her, frustrated. When he spoke, his tone confirmed his emotions. "I always knew you were with him, Cagalli. It was a suspicion at first- a strange feeling that I had no proof for. But then I used Yzak to find out that Athrun was working for the Intelligence Council and I knew by the second letter that he was with you- wherever you were. And the third letter-," He shook his head, trying to remain focused. "Only two people know of Torii's serial number on the inner joint- myself and Athrun. I don't think the last seal had those numbers there as a matter of randomness."

"So that's how he did it," Cagalli whispered to herself. Her mind was moving very fast, and she was suddenly seeing why Athrun had been forced to send her back alone. "That's why you were even at Sweden."

"I was too late though," Kira said, looking ruefully at Cagalli's arm.

She shook her head, looking at her wound too. "It's not a big deal."

And sighing a little, he led her back to the bed, where he resumed his seat at her side. "Tell me where he brought you to and why."

"You know why already." Cagalli told him in a low voice. "The Intelligence Council has released a statement that you must have heard."

"I heard why." Kira admitted. "But not why he had to do it."

She stared at Kira, wondering how to say all that she had learnt. Twisting her hand in her lap, she gazed at the shiny surface of the apple and thought of the night when Athrun had reappeared. Why he? He had told her, but she didn't find herself capable of repeating it to Kira. Her instincts warned her against this, and as painful as it was to hide something from her twin, she could sense that Kira was suspicious of Athrun.

For Cagalli, she did not know how to approach the issue at all. On one hand, she could not trust anybody else and yet on the other, she wanted to confide in Kira. For now, she decided that it wasn't the time. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't know."

He studied her, saying nothing.

"I don't know," She said again, trying to inject firmness into her voice.

"Then what about this?" He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

Cagalli stared at what glimmered in the light and gasped. She reached out with her good hand, trying to hold onto what Kira must have taken from her when she had been unconscious. "Give that back!"

He passed it to her, knowing that she would leap out of bed if she didn't get it back.

The ring on its chain winked in the lights, and on her palm, it seemed to belong to another time period altogether. She closed her fingers around it, missing its presence dreadfully, suddenly aware that it had been taken from her. In her palm, the ring pressed into her flesh, and Cagalli was afraid that tears were building in her eyes.

"I can guess what you're going to say." Kira said softly. "You're going to tell me that he happened to have it still and he happened to give it back to you."

In that moment, Cagalli knew Kira could not trust Athrun for more than the reasons apparent to the world. Had Marlin spoken to Kira too? Would she have to fight her own twin once again, and ironically for believing in Athrun this time?

"I'm not sure what that ring means." Kira continued. "And I'm afraid to know too." He rubbed his face with his hand. "I hope that he didn't hurt you more than what he has already done."

"Athrun hasn't hurt me!" Cagalli protested, using his name as Kira flinched. "How could you say that, Kira?"

He said nothing but his eyes lingered on her wounds.

"I don't think he intended for this to happen!" She said desperately. "Why else would he write a letter with detailed instructions?"

"He was with the terrorists when the Orb troops arrived." Kira reminded her. "I saw him."

"That doesn't mean he wasn't working undercover at that time!" Her defiance increased, as did the intensity of her voice. She turned her eyes on Kira, her voice sharp. "He wouldn't betray me, Kira."

"Betray you?" Kira breathed. "What do you understand when you say betray, Cagalli? Do you mean betray in the context of your seal being used for a third letter you didn't send? Or do you mean the way you're here with all these injuries despite how happy you are that you have that ring?"

His face darkened and he got up again, pushing himself forward where the kettle was beginning to hiss softly. "I don't think you understand the situation you're in."

"But I do!" She insisted. "Kira, what exactly do you think I am? A silly child who doesn't understand the implications of falling in love with someone like him?"

He made tea that nobody would drink. "I'm beginning to think so."

She shook her head. "But he needs me, Kira."

Kira said nothing for a long time, adding sugar to the tea. Cagalli knew he would not serve it to her or to himself, but he seemed to find solace in doing something that had no end to it. And when he spoke, his voice was shaking slightly with anger. "Doing a person a kindness is not the same as loving the person, Cagalli. Nor does receiving a kindness require you to love the person back. I learnt that a long time ago."

Her own sorrow and pent-up frustration began to spill over. "I know that, Kira. But I didn't owe Athrun a kindness, and I didn't owe him affection for his kindness either."

"Then why are you bent on destroying what you've established over the years?" Kira demanded, stirring so furiously for a second that it seemed the spoon would leap out. He took it out and tossed it into the sink, where it made a violent thunk.

"Because I owe myself a chance to live."

* * *

Over the next day, Marlin zeroed in on how the proceedings would turn out. He had been trained to understand how a jury and judge thought, and with the background findings and the way the jury had been chosen, Marlin was confident that his case theory would be congruent with the court's expectations.

At present, Marlin's eyes roved over the pictures of the evidence that he'd obtained, and he tapped his fingers on his chin, wondering what to make of it.

Next to him, the patient stirred and immediately alert, Marlin glanced over to her. Cagalli had the countenance of a child fighting nightmares with her brow furrowed and her lips parted in a murmur of fear. She was regaining her health quite steadily, but her fitfulness seemed to increase by the hour.

Feeling sorry for her but preferring her to get the sleep that she needed, Marlin returned to his files and gathered them, moving to the next room. He would have liked to stay by her side and watch over her as she slept, but as it was, it was difficult to watch her struggling in her dreams.

While Cagalli slept, Marlin slipped out of the room that she had occupied for the past few days. In the adjoining guest room, he joined Aaron, who was looking very tired with visible dark circles under his eyes.

Nodding once to the person that he had established a fairly good but slightly uneasy relationship with, Marlin sat down.

"How is she?" Aaron whispered. His clothes were rumpled and Marlin realized that he had never seen Aaron look so sloppy before. But it spoke volumes about what Aaron was going through and how tiring the taking of his testimony had been.

"Before that," Marlin asked worriedly, "How are you? How did it go?"

"How badly could it have gone?" Aaron said, attempting a smile that came off as a being a little weak. "I gave my testimony and that was that. There haven't been loopholes, and for now, it seems to be verified."

"I'm glad." Marlin nodded. "It would be terribly unfair if the inquiry against you continued."

"There were pretty good grounds to suspect that I was involved in her kidnapping though." Cagalli's subordinated admitted. "I did do the booking of flights and the arranging of the people who would receive her in Scandinavia. I was also the one who responded to the invitation that Sweden sent on behalf of Scandinavia."

"She trusts you." Marlin told Aaron. "I think that's good enough. Like Kira, she would never suspect that you did anything to harm her."

"I hope so." Aaron said, looking very down-hearted despite Marlin's words. "How is she?"

Marlin shook his head. "She's still quite weak- physically. But she's very stubborn about wanting to do her own investigations. I don't think she's grasped the full picture of what she's up against. She's not in Scandinavia anymore- she won't have a chance to go back to the crime scene or the town square that she claims she was at before that."

Aaron's shoulders sagged as he sat back. "Poor Cagalli. She's exhausted from this- how can she face the questioning that she will be put through? Besides, she can't have shot Pietre Harraldsson. She was injured so badly- how could one even manage a shot like that?"

"I agree." Marlin's face hardened. "But let's face it. Having one's left arm broken is not the same as having no more use of the right arm. Even the weakest of women would be able to lift a right arm when it remained unbroken. That's against her."

"But she'd never shoot Harraldsson!" Aaron cried out, quite forgetting that Cagalli was a thin wall away. "She can't have! She doesn't know how to shoot at close range like that! She has never fired a shot since-,"

He voice dropped and he turned away from Marlin.

"Wait," Marlin said urgently. "What do you mean? She doesn't know how to shoot at point blank range? Aaron, tell me how that is possible! This could save her!"

Aaron took a shuddering gulp of air. "I d-don't think I can, Marlin. She made me swear to keep it to myself."

"I'm afraid I must know." Marlin said firmly. "If you want to save her, we need the best evidence around. As it stands, there are only three possibilities as to what happened. One, Athrun Zala shot Pietre Harraldsson. Two, Cagalli did. Three, the witnesses were all lying. I believe they aren't for now. All fifty-something of them have pretty consistent testimonies of the sequence of events. And if Cagalli can't possibly shoot at point-blank, then she will be safe."

Looking troubled, Aaron stared at the files that Marlin had collated over this time. Those had grown increasingly thicker.

"Well, why can't you just prove that it is the first possibility that really occurred?" Aaron said nervously. He twisted his hands anxiously. "As long as you prove it's Athrun Zala, she'll be exonerated, right?"

"That's not the way it works." Marlin told him. "I defend. The person who proves it's Athrun Zala is the Galactic Court's prosecutor. Of course," He continued grimly, "I will paint Cagalli as a meek, very shattered and disorientated woman for the purposes of this trial. I am half-inclined to think that even now, that description is very accurate."

"I get your point," Aaron agreed. His eyes dimmed. "She's bewildered and she's confused by what she's been put through. That's why she can't answer anything and that's why she doesn't seem to trust any of us anymore. You know, she just keeps repeating that Harraldsson was out to kill her!" He thought of Cagalli's past experiences and felt the weight o his back increase ten-fold. "She's been ruined by that experience- it's going to take her so much time to shake the trauma of it off."

"Rest assured," Marlin said quietly. "I will make sure that even beyond a balance of probabilities, Cagalli cannot possibly have shot Harraldsson."

"How?" Aaron said shakily. "She could have shot him with her right hand."

"For starters," Marlin muttered. "Athrun Zala is more likely to be the culprit. That's our trump."

The interesting thing, Marlin noted, was that Athrun Zala's fingerprints were on three different guns. The first one had been the very gun found in the room where Harraldsson had suffered his fate, and the second on the gun that had been confiscated while on Athrun Zala's person. The next one had been on the gun that Kira Yamato had used while in the palace, as Kira could attest to.

"The gun that Cagalli had presumably held cased only one bullet left." Aaron recalled.

"What could have happened to the other five?" Marlin wondered.

As it was, Harraldsson had been brought down in a hail of bullets. But prior to that, someone had fired point blank at his chest. The only people who could have been in that room, according to fifty odd guards and thirty terrorists were Athrun Zala, Cagalli and Harraldsson. By the time Athrun Zala had been seized by the own people that he'd claimed to have served, he'd had nothing on him except an empty gun with his prints on it.

By every right, Marlin thought to himself, the weapon must have been the one found on Athrun Zala or the one that Cagalli had held. Still, he assured himself, just because she had held it didn't mean that she had shot- it merely meant that she must have collapsed and that Athrun Zala had entered and used it on Harraldsson.

"That must be it," He whispered to himself. He focused on Aaron. "I know what happened now. But to exonerate her entirely and to cast no more doubt on her, I need to know why she couldn't have shot even with her right arm functioning normally."

Even before Aaron took a deep breath in and told him, Marlin was already sure that Cagalli couldn't have been the person who had caused the injury to Pietre Harraldsson.

* * *

As Yzak Joule marched towards the car that the Plant embassy had hailed for him, he felt uncannily similar to something that lived in a fishbowl. If he had seemed to have mellowed over the years, his face, with its tightened displeasure and his mouth that was twisted in anger, suggested that his temper had not outgrown him.

He might have appeared to be a normal person with his grey, almost common place tweed coat. It reeked of the ordinary and it flapped in the chilly late afternoon, even what was left of the sunlight in Poland's winter continued fading. Yet, his vision was bright with the bulbs flashing and he knew that he'd somehow been spotted.

"Head General Joule, is it true that there was a scuffle at the Swedish Royal Palace and that Plant intelligencers were involved?"

He shielded his eyes from a particularly proximate media hound.

"Is there some kind of decision that will be made? Is there some conspiracy?"

"No comment." He barked.

"We hear that the Orb Princess has been found-,"

"Sir- sir- this way," His bodyguards were trying to clear a path for him. "Officer Hahnenfuss- here-,"

Around him, the reporters were swarming relentlessly and he could identify various stations from every country he could think of. Some mother had gone and leaked something to the press about the incident and even his arrival here in Poland.

Shiho tried to take a step forward and another swarm of the buggers moved up to her. The bodyguards were definitely working overtime. She was dressed in civilian clothes too, but being next to him had made it difficult for her not to be recognized.

"Let me through." Yzak said impatiently, shoving one microphone aside. He took away his shades to make it clear how upset he was. But even as his glare became obvious, five more reporters swarmed up to him. The bodyguards around them both were not quite able to keep everyone away.

"Is the intelligencer from Plant?"

The shouts grew louder as the questions grew more explicit.

"Is it true that Athrun Zala appeared again? Is he a spy for Plant?"

Yzak was highly frustrated. He'd made plans to come here without having any media attention, based on his instructions by the Supreme Council of Plant. And despite his best efforts and his choice of a dark suit rather than his customary white uniform, he'd still ended up being spotted by the media just an hour after the shuttle had touched the landing grounds. Even Shiho was not spared.

"Did he appear and was he involved?"

"Sir, would you tell us whether your fiancée is involved-,"

He looked to his side as Shiho stood there warily, trying to move forward with him. But she was blocked by the microphones shoved under her nose, and her hand in his was tense. Her eyes were wide, and her gait was a frightened cat's behind her shades. If she'd had a tail and ears, those would have been tense with anger and displacement. Unlike him, she had never been under the spotlight much and she certainly was not in a position to know how to deal with the media.

"Let her through." He said coldly. "My fiancée and I have no liberty to disclose such information."

"Sir! Sir! Is she an intelligencer from Plant-,"

"Did Lady Joule plan for you to become the Head of the Intelligence Council in Zaft and-,"

The questions were getting through the thick wall he'd tried to put around himself, and Yzak knew it was a matter of minutes before he started roaring. The danger bells were going off in his head and he bit back a lovely flower chain of curses in the nick of time.

Shiho was here and it wouldn't do to behave badly in her presence- no matter how frustrated he was from being tailed by the media in Plant all the way here for the past few days.

And so, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the hired car. As she got in, he fended off the reporters, blocking their way with every bit of his bulk and mustering a glare that he summoned from the depths of his displeasure.

"What are you waiting for?" Yzak demanded at the driver. "Move!"

Without further hesitation, the car zoomed forward and Shiho lurched a little but righted herself, pulling on the seatbelts while the two of them fought to catch their breath. As far as the instructions had went, Yzak would arrive at Warsaw in an hour's time.

"Sorry about that." Yzak apologized gruffly. He looked at her as she leaned back, her suit rumpled from the reporters grabbing at her arms. She was panting slightly and she looked almost disconcerted. Of course, he couldn't quite tell because she was wearing shades, but he understood her well enough.

"Are you alright?" He asked uncomfortably. He never knew what to do when he felt concerned for his wife-to-be, especially since he was used to fighting mad battles with her by his side. Despite how strong-willed and competent Shiho Hahnenfuss was, she'd been imposed on him like a responsibility, and Yzak would have reacted adversely to that if he disliked her at all. But knowing Ezalia Joule, even reacting adversely wouldn't have prevented the eventual and upcoming marriage between her son and his subordinate.

She nodded. As usual, Shiho had pushed her way through without even having to say a word- an aspect of her character that Yzak was infinitely grateful for in the face of aggressive media dogs.

As she pulled off her shades, revealing her expression like him, he told her, "I'll have to ask which bugger leaked it to the press when I have the time."

She was silent, but her gaze was steady enough.

"You shouldn't have come." He said regretfully. "It will be a hellhole in a few days' time, and I'm afraid the media might hound you for information you don't even have. I'm not even sure I should leave you in a hotel- they will probably tail you there. Maybe you should take the shuttle back."

She looked at him quietly and he wondered why she seemed to radiate disapproval when none of this was really anything that he'd been able to control. Her shades were no longer blocking most of her face and expression, and he could see disappointment and some weariness in her violet-grey eyes.

"You know," Yzak said tiredly, "We really shouldn't fight over this."

She said nothing, but her gaze intensified.

"I don't really know what's happening anymore. I can't explain anything to you." He told her with a tiny sigh that shook his inner core.

A few more awkward moments passed between them as the silence grew and the roads bumped by. Yzak wondered if the driver was eavesdropping. Because this was a special car meant to escort important people, the passenger's compartment was sealed off and there was no way of hearing what the passengers were talking about. Of course, the driver had to exercise his professionalism as well, but Yzak didn't trust anybody, especially not when the media was probably willing to pay people to speak.

"I know you have your duty." Shiho said finally. "I don't begrudge you that. But I cannot agree with you forcing me to stay behind in the Plants."

"You could have been mauled by those reporters!" Yzak insisted. He had always made it his policy never to speak to Shiho in this private way except when they were alone. But the situation seemed to call for it, and the driver seemed distant enough. Besides, he wanted to express his disagreement.

"I can handle myself." She said stubbornly. In her mannish coat and severely-knotted hair, she seemed more like an authoritative secretary rather than his fiancée. How strange it was, he thought distractedly, that she appeared like this today. Usually, Shiho kept her hair down and tied only at the ends even while working as a test-pilot and while on duty. Now, in one of their private moments together, she had treated her hair severely and retained far less femininity that Yzak expected- even when his standards were rather skewed by Ezalia's own with her bobbed hair and icy demeanour.

He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to let you onto the shuttle when you appeared and reported for duty. But I didn't have time to handle that."

"I won't get in your way." Shiho told him with a voice that she usually reserved for disobedient trainee-pilots and for cats that disappeared for days. "I am still the Vice-General serving under Kira Yamato, and I will act in that capacity."

Yzak realized that he was thoroughly unhappy about her insistence but kept his harsher thoughts to himself. They really didn't need a tiff over anything.

"I still think you made a mistake by insisting that you come." Yzak repeated. "The media will use that fact against you. He is also under scrutiny now. Besides, you are my fiancée and the hounds will tail you for the days to come."

"I want to be here." Shiho spoke firmly. "If I didn't come, I would have regretted it. Plenty has been going on without my knowledge."

It was not really in her nature to speak up, as Yzak had learnt a long time ago. Yet, she was possibly more bold and courageous than most men, and he admired her for that. Currently though, his fiancée seemed rather unhappy, which made Yzak even more uncomfortable. Her reference to his working overtime at long stretches and his distance from her at points made him squirm, but he bit back his tongue as the car made its way to the interrogation center.

Yzak could only pray that the things would turn out alright. He had received numerous instructions from his superiors and he knew he was burdened with more than that currently. There was only so much his superiors could do to him- cut his pay maybe, demote him at worst- or hopefully, let him off with a warning if he screwed anything up.

On the other hand, there was the highest authority he had to report to. He snuck a look at Shiho, who'd replaced her shades and thus hidden her expression. Yzak felt a dart of worry stab at him. No. It would not do to disobey the highest possible authority he had known in his life.

After all, Ezalia Joule had warned him, "Piss her off and you piss me off."

And as they all knew, when Ezalia Joule was pissed off, it was generally not a good thing.

Yzak sighed inwardly and picked up the car's internal phone. For today, he decided, he would have to ignore his mother's warnings and Shiho's insistence that she follow him.

"Driver," He requested. "Please drop Officer Hahnenfuss off at the hotel."

She said nothing, but he could feel her displeasure radiate from where she sat.

* * *

As Cagalli took a bath, Marlin took the opportunity to go through his files once more.

He stared at the two guns in question. Surely, it was no coincidence that both guns were of the exact same model. The one with Cagalli's prints had been found in the room, whereas the other must have been Athrun Zala's own gun.

But of all that he had managed to get Cagalli to say, nothing quite explained why the gun had Athrun Zala's prints on it. She had told him when he had asked, that she didn't really know Athrun Zala. He had been a comrade at best, and a distant acquaintance because of Kira. Moreover, no matter how Marlin tried to theorize, she simply did not know where her place of captivity had been or the names of her kidnappers. She had been highly insistent that those were the Danish terrorists, but other than that, she did not know anything.

Furthermore, she had somehow found her way out of the room she'd been kept in for all this time, as she'd claimed, and then found some passageway that led her to a yacht that Cagalli had then used to get to the Swedish palace. It must have been her captors' carelessness, Marlin mused, given that they'd left a knife and gun in the yacht and had not programmed the yacht to have security features disabling other users from taking control of it.

"James?"

He looked up as she exited from the bathroom, her hair damp and a towel around her shoulders.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much." She nodded.

Now, he got up and moved to her side, looking carefully at Cagalli. In her rather unflattering white hospital gown, she looked more fragile than she really was, and he wondered how anyone could have doubted her strengths.

"What is it?" Cagalli flinched as his gaze remained steady.

"I'm sorry to ask you again." He said heavily. "But I must confirm this."

"I've already told you." Cagalli repeated. "I don't know where I was and who took me from the yacht. I was shot at that time, and I was unconscious."

It seemed quite reasonable at first blush. But at the same time, Marlin found himself doubting whether Cagalli was telling him the entire truth. Truthfully, Marlin was doubly sure now that Athrun Zala was her captor and that he had convinced Cagalli into escaping from her place of captivity and going to the palace. While Marlin had no proof of this, especially since Cagalli maintained that she did not know who her captive was, Marlin had a hunch that it was Athrun Zala working with the terrorists.

After all, the Plant Intelligence Council had admitted that they had been using Athrun Zala, amongst many others as Intelligencers, and that Athrun Zala had been the one to bring Cagalli Yula Atha to safety on the night that the SS Rafael had been attacked. Beyond that though, the Intelligence Council did not know or take responsibility for what Athrun Zala had done and what he'd successfully conspired and carried out with the Danish Nationalists.

Marlin though, was very sure that Athrun Zala had somehow misled Cagalli into thinking that Harraldsson had been her captor and that he was trying to harm Kira.

Disorientated, she had quarreled with Pietre Harraldsson and probably struggled with him at one point or another.

"James," She spoke up suddenly. "You've been keeping quiet for really long."

"Sorry." He muttered. "Just thinking."

Gazing at Cagalli's injuries and thinking about how battered Harraldsson was, Marlin was inclined to believe that she had attacked Harraldsson first. It was quite probable that at that point, the terrorists had entered the palace and begun fighting with the guards on duty. Within that time, Athrun Zala had entered the room while Cagalli had been fighting with the High King. In her weakened state, Cagalli had probably fainted before even seeing who had entered the room.

"Cagalli," Marlin told her, "Maybe you should rest more."

"No!" Her expression turned obstinate. "I've been sleeping for three hours already. I want you to sit down and tell me what you've been thinking about."

He wondered if he could. "It's nothing much, really."

As Marlin understood it, Athrun Zala had probably picked up the gun that Cagalli had taken with her, thus placing his prints on it, and firing point blank at Harraldsson's chest. He'd then shot a few more times for good measure and then thrown the gun aside, since it had already served its purpose. To make Cagalli seem like she had shot Harraldsson, he'd broken her arm and injured her, and then left, hoping to escape while a scuffle was distracting everyone else.

However, Athrun Zala had been confronted by Kira Yamato, who'd received a tip-off from his own sister that she would be in Sweden. Kira had tried to stop Athrun Zala from leaving, but Athrun Zala had gotten ahold of Kira's gun, thus imprinting the third gun, and using it on the guards who had been rushing up the stairs.

At that point, the Intelligencers had arrived after tracking down where their colleague had been, and they had used a smokescreen to stop the fighting. After that, all those present had been taken into custody and Harraldsson had been brought to a hospital. However, he had been too late and he was in a vegetative state now. His state was mourning and there was an outcry from all the countries involved.

It was strange, Marlin thought to himself, that Cagalli was so against Harraldsson and so convinced that he had tried to kill her. Even before she had fallen asleep, she had been muttering to herself that she would prove that Harraldsson was guilty of so many things.

But how, Marlin wondered, was one to prove that when a man was already in a comatose state? There was nothing she could produce to show that he had planned her kidnapping. Nor could she name a witness who had heard the purported things that Harraldsson had said to her in the room where they'd both been injured. Beyond that, the world's understanding of Harraldsson was that he had slaved endlessly to promote goodwill between Coordinators and Naturals.

As he gazed at Cagalli, watching her wait expectantly, he wondered if she had been under some kind of spell that she was waking to and finding herself unable to accept. Cagalli had been rather agitated for these few days and nothing he did could make her feel secure, even if she seemed to grow stronger as time passed.

Surely, Harraldsson couldn't be the person that she'd painted him to be, given all his efforts to carry on his brother-in-law's work with maintaining peace between Coordinators and Naturals?

Marlin shook his head, getting up to make tea for both of them. Cagalli had been misled, to say the least.

"With Aaron's testimony," He thought to himself, "You'll be free again."

* * *

In the same country, in the same town, in the same vein, someone had decided the exact opposite.

In the hotel that she was putting up at in Poland, Lacus was trying to prevent Shinn from marching out and offering a testimony to the officials.

"It's not right." Shinn breathed. His eyes were narrowed and those glowed crimson in his pale face. "Why should Athrun have to bear the brunt of all those attacks on his person?"

He got up, grabbing a bunch of newspapers that Lacus had shown him. He crumpled those in his fury, crushing those and stamping on them with his feet. The desperation he did this with made Lacus feel justified in her own anger towards those who had written so cruelly about Athrun Zala, a person who was unlike what they'd painted of him.

"He's not a murderer!" Shinn raged. He kicked one crumpled newspaper aside. "It's not been proven that he did it!"

"I know," Lacus said, trying to keep Leon quiet as the baby stirred and began to mewl for attention.

"He's just- he just made some bad decisions, that's all!"

And Shinn grabbed the remaining papers, crumpling them entirely and tossing them into a bin. "I don't want to see any of these, Lacus. These are not the truth, these are just colourful rumours that hide the truth-,"

"I think you need to calm down, Shinn." She pleaded. With Leon in her arms, she looked at him helplessly, but he seemed to grow taller and firmer.

"I'm going to the officials now!" Shinn exclaimed.

He turned away but Lacus called out to him.

"What is it?" His expression was impatient. "Don't tell me not to go, Lacus, you know I can stop whatever that's happening to him!"

"No, Shinn." Lacus was nearly in tears from her pent-up frustration and worry for her husband, Athrun and Cagalli. The officials had been in this room for two whole days before today, and she had given her testimony over and over again, trying her best to ignore their skeptical faces and mocking smiles.

He backed away as she reached out to him, shaking his head. "I need to tell them that Athrun Zala could not have harmed Cagalli- not with how much he's sacrificed for her. He loves her- he didn't harm her!"

She thought of the letters and the way Cagalli had reappeared and how Athrun had been found in the Swedish palace. As she had always found herself doing in the most complicated situations, the pieces she had in front of her began arranging themselves in her head and she saw what could only be the truth.

"I need to tell them Athrun didn't harm her." Shinn repeated, almost stubbornly.

"But if you do," Lacus said sadly, "She will be."

She gazed at Shinn's face and her child, as if sensing her distress, began to cry. Shinn looked at the door, looked back at the child, glanced at Lacus, then sat down, as if drained of every ounce of vitality he had through living and learning itself.

* * *

"I want to know why he's still being held in interrogation." Kira demanded, moving down the hallway quickly. There was someone who was wheeled past him- someone in need of the emergency operation room. Some nurses and doctors were muttering in rapid-fire Polish that Kira understood little of.

At the same time, there were a few patients wandering around the corridors with different parts of their faces bandaged. It was very harrowing to see.

Aaron was in a state of helplessness. "I can't do anything- they refuse to let him out. The Galactic Court is still deciding whether they should or they shouldn't."

A willowy woman strutted past both of them as they turned into a corridor. She would have been attractive if most of her face wasn't concealed by bandages. Neither Kira nor Aaron took much notice of her though.

"Then what about Orb's authority?"

Aaron cast his eyes down, as if ashamed to be repeating instructions that he did not believe in. He quickened his pace to keep up with Kira. "You and I are currently suspects, Kira. I don't think your authority is associated with Orb's at this point- or mine, for that matter."

Kira's eyes darkened. "Poland has no right to hold him day and night in the interrogation room. I don't care if they have priority and the key authority over the person that the Galactic Courts have accused of being a terrorist- they can't keep him in there all day and night without going against his rights!"

"Shh-," Aaron hushed him immediately. "We're nearing her room."

Kira fell silent as they stepped in. Cagalli however, was not asleep but sitting up in bed, her arm in a cast, her eyes trained on files she was going through at a very hurried, almost panicky rate. As her confidante and twin entered, Cagalli's eyes flew up and she put away the file hastily and said almost accusingly, "I didn't know you were coming!"

She had guilt written everywhere on her face, and Kira's instinctive thought was that she would not survive more than half an hour in a courtroom. There was only so much her will could take.

"How are you feeling?" Aaron inquired, setting down a basket of fruits next to another one that she'd barely touched. He shuffled around, looking for a bowl that he could use.

"I'm fine." She said with a touch of negligence and even regret in her voice- as if she'd failed to do something and cared more about it than her health. She looked thin and even malnourished in the oversized hospital gown, and her hair had lost the luster Kira had hoped to see. And yet, there was rebelliousness in her eyes, and her hands were noticeably faraway from what they'd been busy rifling through just minutes before Kira had entered.

And casting his eye around and spotting the obvious absence, Kira surmised what Cagalli had been up to. Marlin was nowhere in sight, and Kira supposed he'd either left to check up on something or was doing something for Cagalli.

By the looks of it and Cagalli's startled countenance, she'd tricked him into leaving the room with the files for her to read. Frankly, Kira did not have to look through those to know what was inside.

"Where is he?" Cagalli demanded, knowing that it was pointless to deny what she'd been trying to find out. She looked ready to leap out of bed, and Kira thought it was best if he occupied the seat next to her should she try that.

In any case he stalled for time, wondering how to phrase it. How could he phrase something that included Athrun being in a place where information was probably being beaten out of him, against his will and to his disadvantage?

"Well?" Cagalli said sharply.

"Still in the jail." Kira knew it was equally pointless to hide it from her. "Poland wants a piece of this too- they want to make sure that the place the Galactic Courts have chosen for proceedings is secure from what they deem as a likely international terrorist. They have priority to questioning him- he is in their territory, after all."

"What are they doing with him?" Cagalli's eyes flashed.

"The investigation is still going on." Kira found no further reason to conceal anything from her. "The authorities include Plant's Intelligence Council's representative, the Galactic Court's lead prosecutor. Poland's internal security agents are also helping with the investigation."

"Haven't they finished asking him questions?" Cagalli seemed as if she was taking stock of everything in her head, for a tiny wrinkle was appearing between her eyes and she was sitting stiffly. "And shouldn't there be a defense attorney in there?"

"No." Aaron spoke up. "He refused to hire one."

"Well, surely there's a default one?" Cagalli asked.

"He refused it. He will be the accused in person." Kira informed her.

Cagalli drew in a breath. "Well, then the Galactic Courts and Poland don't need anything more from him! What's he doing there still?"

"He's not been very forthcoming." Aaron said hesitantly.

"What has he told them?"

"Nothing much." Aaron admitted. "He's suspected to be the terrorist leader, as you know. Plant is not extending the immunity or the defense they are giving to the other intelligencers. All he's said so far are basically confirmations of the events that happened after Kira here found you on the landing of the main staircase with him. Nothing that could really incriminate him, although his silence is currently bad enough."

Kira held his tone steady. "The questioning is still going on."

"You mean interrogation." Cagalli said sharply. Her eyes narrowed at her brother now. "Get him out of there, Kira. I'd do it myself if I could, but I can't."

He stared at her, realizing that her will was so strong it was giving her the strength to sit up. She'd clearly been supposed to rest, but the physical discomfort seemed to deter her only a little.

But his reluctance spoke louder than her efforts. "I can't, Cagalli. Not that I didn't try even before you asked. It's just impossible at this stage. I can't do it, nor can Aaron."

"Must I really get out of there and go to the quarters myself?" Cagalli said fiercely.

"No," Aaron almost squeaked. He tried to push her back onto the pillows, fluffing those up with quick, deft hands that were used to caring for his friend. "Goddamit, Cagalli, you need to rest!"

"I'm rested." She said stubbornly. "I'm well now. I've been sleeping far too much- I've already told the doctor to stop giving me that sleep-inducing medicine. I'm all fine now."

"No, you're not." Another voice said.

All three pairs of eyes focused to Marlin as he moved into the room, carrying a whole load of things that Cagalli had asked him to get.

As Kira stared at those, he realized that Cagalli had asked for these only to buy herself time- unless she really felt like playing crossword puzzles and eating orange-cream donuts at this point.

Moreover, there were specific food items that must have taken Marlin quite some time and effort to get. There were food items that Kira couldn't imagine anyone eating at this point, unless the person happened to like steaming hot chilli kebabs while suffering from a serious arm injury.

Beyond that, the nearest kebab-selling shop was certainly a specialty one. Poland generally did not feature kebabs on the menu, and no respectable hospital canteen would ever prepare the calorie-crazy choice that Cagalli had asked Marlin to find for her.

"Here's your kebab." Marlin passed a steaming packet to her. "I had to hire a taxi to get it."

She took it with her unharmed hand, and then unwrapped it gingerly.

The men in the room waited expectantly.

Glancing at their concerned faces, she smiled weakly and attempted a nibble at it. The steaming roll with the meat and the lettuce and sauce within it looked almost feeble in her weak, pale hand. "It's nice. Thanks."

And promptly, she put it away. Marlin's eyes lingered on her, then at the discarded food, and then he sat down with a sigh. The pile of things he'd put next to her seemed as woebegone as him. "I thought you'd be more hungry than that, Cagalli. You begged me to get kebabs for you."

"Sorry." Cagalli said in a small voice. "I guess I just- just lost my appetite."

Kira couldn't help feeling sorry for Marlin. He watched as Marlin smiled a little at his twin. It was a wan but heartfelt smile that must have touched Cagalli as it touched Kira, for Cagalli reached forward to pat Marlin's hand.

"I'm sorry." She repeated, almost as if she was apologizing for what everyone in the room knew she'd done while Marlin had been away.

"It's fine." Marlin said gently.

Here was reputedly one of the slyest dogs in the politician world and one of the few men that Cagalli actually liked working with. For all of Marlin's cleverness, Kira noted, Marlin was rather oblivious to Cagalli's intent and what she must have done while he was finding the elusive kebab.

James Marlin was a mild, sweet kitten next to his twin, Kira marveled. How strange affection could be, and how powerful it was- powerful enough for a person to rush off to achieve something at one's request.

And Kira knew why. Marlin hadn't entertained second thoughts or perhaps the slightest suspicion about going out of the room and leaving all his materials there, simply because it had been Cagalli asking him to do something for her.

And Kira frowned unconsciously, thinking of Marlin's request that Kira had acceded to rather reluctantly. Kira though, was clear of what he had given Marlin the green light. He had given Marlin a right to try and make Cagalli trust him and be happy, only because Kira wanted Cagalli to learn to live again. He had not promised Marlin that Cagalli would accept Marlin after she returned, just because Kira had no objections to Marlin's affections.

Thinking back about the haunted expression in Athrun's eyes, Kira realized that it was unlikely that Marlin would see the issue from his point of view.

In the meantime, Cagalli was making preparations to move.

"Marlin," Cagalli said impatiently, "I want to get out of here. "

"The doctor says no." He looked at her firmly.

"Screw the doctor." She said obstinately. Her eyes were narrowed, and for a minute, she looked as if she had never been lying in bed, weak and unconscious for her ordeal. "I'm calling the shots right now. I've got work to do and things to find out."

"Even so," Aaron said plaintively, "You're a suspect and you won't be able to see Athrun. The detention center that he hasn't given any information or updates about him since he was put there."

"That's ridiculous!" Cagalli cried. "I want to see him! I need to speak to him and ask what happened that day!"

"No." Kira said brusquely. For a moment, his heart had leapt and he'd thought of the time when he'd first met a girl he'd never suspected to be his twin. Her spirit now was that indomitable one that he had been so drawn too, and yet he had to turn away from that. What a pity, Kira thought to himself.

"Kira!" Cagalli looked at him beseechingly. "You understand me, don't you? Of everyone, you'd have to, please-,"

He felt his throat constricting. He thought of the expression Athrun's face had held when Kira had threatened to kill him personally. That expression was not a familiar one to Kira even as Athrun had told Kira that Kira had every right to kill him. It had no regret or repressed anger that Kira would have been more likely to predict. Athrun's expression had held only acceptance and a mild, slightly numbed pain in it.

Kira didn't know what was going on, but he could infer enough from that single confession and expression that Athrun cared for Cagalli still. As with James Marlin and Aaron Biliensky, he could sense that the men in Cagalli's life must have loved her in vastly different ways, despite their common intent to help her make decisions in her best interests.

"I don't think you should let her go, Kira." Marlin told him.

Kira looked at him and understood, even if this wasn't the first time that Kira was forced to take stock of Marlin's situation. The truth of the matter was that Marlin saw her and loved her as a woman. How strange love was, and how blindly possessive it could be! Even when Marlin was not aware of the true nature of the past that Athrun and Cagalli had shared, Kira knew that Marlin instinctively wanted to keep Cagalli within his sight.

Perhaps, Kira realized, Marlin could even sense that letting Cagalli see her captive would cause implications that Marlin was instinctively uneasy about. With regards to what he could discern, Kira was sure that Marlin was unconsciously mistrustful of the man whom she was fighting to protect- even senselessly, as Marlin had remarked to Kira.

"Aaron," Marlin said strongly, "Tell her that she needs to stay here."

"That's right," Aaron chimed in. "You're still too weak to get out of bed."

Aaron viewed her as his close friend and cared for her thus. Kira knew that of all her colleagues, Aaron was far more than that and a steadfast presence in her life- perhaps even more so than Kira after his fallout with Cagalli.

Studying the other two men, Kira was able to appreciate their feelings for her. Simultaneously, the fervor of their concern made him examine his own considerations, and his own told him that he would not allow her to risk more than she needed when he'd only just gotten her back.

Aloud, Kira told her, "I think you should stay here. He's not going to be able to see you."

Privately, he was afraid of what Cagalli's reaction would be if she did get a chance to meet Athrun.

"Aaron?" She wheedled, turning her eyes to her aide.

"Sorry." He whispered. "It's as Kira said."

"Marlin," Cagalli tried, "Surely you can bring me there for just a few hours?"

But Marlin only shook his head, patting her hand in a consolatory manner. "Don't worry about Athrun Zala so much. I've already done as you requested and remained the Galactic Court that having a defense attorney for him would make the proceedings more efficient."

Her expression became hopeful. "What did he say?"

"He refused it still." Marlin told her. He tsked. "I have no idea why you need to care so much about the person who helps my case theory to get you acquitted."

Cagalli faltered, repeating what she'd told Marlin when he'd asked her who Athrun Zala was to her. "He was Kira's friend once-,"

"Even Kira here doesn't think he's the same person." Marlin told her sharply.

Kira exchanged a glance with him that Cagalli did not miss. Miserably, she looked back at all of them, wondering if she was making a mistake by continuing to conceal the true nature of her relationship with Athrun.

When Marlin had asked her who Athrun Zala was to her, Cagalli had told him that they were once friends. But she hadn't been brave enough to tell anyone that Athrun meant so much more to her than that, and she knew she was afraid of that especially since Kira was here. Kira would never approve of what she'd put Athrun through, and Cagalli could not face how angry Kira would be if she told him what had transpired all this time.

No, Cagalli decided, looking at Kira. Now wasn't the time. She'd only just reunited with her twin after all this time- she couldn't tell him and let him think she had purposely manipulated Athrun yet again. Kira would become distant from her again.

"Anyway," Marlin was saying, "You need to rest."

Even until now, Marlin didn't think much of her past friendship with Athrun Zala. After all, she'd described the acquaintance as being rather brief, with Kira being the main bridge between her and the man who'd become her captive those years later. And that was precisely why Marlin was going ahead with the argument he would use to have her acquitted.

And yet-

"I want to see him." Cagalli said brokenly. "I need to ask him why it turned out like this."

"Don't worry," Aaron said soothingly, quite mistaking her desperation. "I will get the answers for you, Cagalli. You shouldn't have to trouble yourself asking him for information that will be extracted from all his lies."

Kira looked uneasy, but he said nothing. Moreover, Marlin nodded in response to what Aaron had uttered. There was nothing Cagalli could do, and she gazed at the three men who stood around her bed, their collective efforts pinning her there.

She thought of the maids who'd done everything they could for her. All her life, there had been the people who'd crowded around her, giving her what they thought was best for her. They'd tried to make sure she could not ask for anything that she didn't already have- and they thought that what she wanted that they could not give was not good for her anyway.

For the first time in her life, she wondered if the people she trusted the most were the same people that were too concerned for her- too protective of her; the same people who did not trust her enough.

And Cagalli turned her face away, flopping back on the bed; pulling the covers over her, afraid that they would see the dismay on her face.

* * *

Three hours later, Cagalli was on her way.

She got ready within minutes, taking a few things as well as an apple she could eat if she felt peckish later. Peeking out of the rather spacious hospital suite that she had been put into, she noticed a doctor bustling by with two nurses scurrying after him, all of them jabbering in Polish that she understood little of. But she waited until the coast was clear, then moved out at a fast pace, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Taking the lift down proved more difficult than she had realised, for a few people joined her along the way down. She had never thought of the lift-ride as a particularly traumatic experience, but she found her heart beating erratically as people got in and out, some staring at her for too long but then turning away at the last minute, and a nurse speaking into the walkie-talkie and being so flustered that she scarcely noticed who was in the lift.

Once she moved out of the main entrance, Cagalli quickened her pace. She walked behind a delivery man who was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers and scuttled out.

As she slipped into the taxi that she'd hailed right outside the hospital, Cagalli was glad that Marlin had left a cap and a jacket in her room. With her hair firmly held beneath the cap and her clothes loose, comfortable at the expense of general neatness and arguably even ill-fitting, she looked the part of a normal person. Well, almost normal.

"Remand centre."

"How'd you get your arm like that?" The driver gaped, turning around. "Were you a patient or visitor at that hospital?"

Well, at least he spoke her language.

"I wasn't a visitor."

"Then what about that mummy-arm?"

"Accident." She muttered, trying to get used to the man staring at her sling and bandaged arm as well as the strangely permeating smell of a thousand passengers who'd been in her exact spot.

"You're with the press right?"

She made no comment, not sure what to say. But the taxi driver filled the silence for her.

"You poor sod." He said blearily, beginning to push his vehicle forward as it crawled through the maze of other taxis. "Media dogs always get smashed by bodyguards."

"How did you know I was a reporter?" Cagalli asked, curious to see how he'd arrived at that conclusion. Weren't reporters usually quite sharply dressed in suits and all? Or was he assuming that she was only a cameraman or something?

"That bag." He pointed out, beginning to steer. There was a long queue of taxis and he was just one of those. "It looks like it's got your equipment in it. Your clothing too."

Cagalli found there was pure irony in that he thought she was a reporter in her dingy garb and oversized bag. It wasn't hers, actually. She'd borrowed or snitched it if you like- from one of the doctors who'd left it in an adjoining room. It smelt strongly of medicine, but it was good enough for her to hide her face if need be.

"And that beat-up arm of course." He added.

"Right." Cagalli wondered if the celebrities here regularly set their bodyguards on the reporters.

"So you wanted to go to the remand centre, was it?" The taxi driver clarified. His Spanish accent was very strong, but she could understand him still.

"Yes." She assured him.

"Bad traffic." He complained, pointing to the ticking meter. He didn't sound too sorry about it.

"It's fine." Cagalli said distractedly. "Just try your best and get me there as soon as possible."

"Alright, Mister."

Her jaw fell open, but his eyes were too busy on the cars and road ahead to realize anything abnormal. There was snow shoveled along the sides of the roads and the air was chilly even in the car.

As he managed to clear his way out to get to the right lane, she glanced into the review mirror and saw that Marlin was rushing back into the hospital building. He certainly hadn't seen her- he was too preoccupied with a paper bag in his hands.

Besides, Cagalli thought, he would never spot which taxi had picked her up. Of course though, he would get back to the room and probably know where she was headed with his cap, jacket, and some money she'd snitched from his wallet when he'd been out buying another kebab. It was a matter of time.

"Sorry, Marlin." She muttered to herself. But she focused on the road ahead.

"Hey, Mister," The taxi driver was saying, "Did you hear about the recent case?"

She kept her face lowered, the cap's end still shading her face. For once, she was glad that the taxi driver was not looking at her properly and had assumed she was a man in these clothes and with her hair all pushed back. She was still taken aback that this person thought she was male, but at this point, she would save her complaints.

"R-Recent case?"

"You ever heard of Athrun Zala, Mister?"

"Uh-," She licked her lips nervously. Why was everybody asking her about this these days? Did she have the words 'I know Athrun Zala personally and in more ways than you would care to imagine' stamped across her forehead? Why was she supposed to know, when it was this complete stranger asking?

The taxi driver took her silence as a green light from his passenger. Sadly enough, it was a red light on the roads.

"Y'know the guy from the Plants? Rumour was that he was involved in some conspiracy that killed the then-Prime Minister in Orb. But then he disappeared, remember? Apparently he wanted the Prime Minister's job because he wasn't advancing fast enough in the Orb Army."

"Is that right?" Cagalli said nervously.

The cabbie snorted with laughter, showing yellowed teeth Cagalli immediately connected with cigarettes. "There was that, and the Orb Prime Minister used to work under his old man, but denounced him before the First War and ran off to Orb to make it good there. Guess Zala junior wanted to make a statement or two by going to Orb. You heard about that before?"

"Well- a bit. Heard of him." Her voice was low because she was speaking softly, to keep the taxi driver from suspecting that she was female. "How do you know all this anyway?"

"From me reporter passengers, Mister. Like you. They want a word outta him too."

"I see."

"The normal person usually don't know no much, but me-," He boasted, jabbing a finger in the direction of himself. "I get all the reporter passengers. I should know better. They can't publish anything, but that don't mean they can't talk about it."

"Right." Cagalli was all too aware of how even the strictest laws regulating the media would never be able to hold fire with its paper grip. Marlin had reminded her of that too, and she'd been forced to admit that she agreed with what he was setting out.

The most recent information that Marlin had given her was that Athrun Zala could not be in more trouble than he was at this point. In addition to Zaft and Plant's adamant refusal to recognize him as their intelligencer at this point, the companies he had controlled with an alias were involved in drug experiments and weapon production.

When Cagalli had insisted that it was to buy the terrorists' trust, namely Greyfriars', Marlin had looked at her calmly and informed her that there was no such person.

"Unless you mean he went by a second alias. It could be that he's Greyfriars- the same person who his former colleagues identified as the terrorist leader." Marlin had hypothesized.

"No!" Cagalli had exclaimed. She had still been trying to absorb the idea of Athrun not just working alone but being a single cog in an entire system of intelligencers who worked for Zaft and Plant on the Isle. "No way!"

But try as she did to think things through, the fact remained that there was no such person that the terrorists in questioning had admitted to knowing. All of them had repeatedly pledged their allegiance to Rune Estragon even during interrogation.

It was all a matter of time before Athrun's past was laid out like a carcass for the crows to get at, and that was why Cagalli had to see him and stop it first.

"I heard he suddenly appeared again. In Scandinavia."

"Oh." She said absently.

"He's at the remand center you want to visit. But then, that's why you want to go there right?"

"I- I - yes." Cagalli wondered if she was as shamefaced as she felt.

"I've been sending loads of reporters around these days- so I knew it when I saw you with your broken arm." The driver was chattering incessantly.

"Oh." Cagalli fumbled a little with her bag. "Uh- you mean the media can interview him?"

"Hmm- don't know about that. Come to think of it, I'm not sure he's really there. Heard rumours though." His eyes flicked back to her. "Hey, did you go to the hospital to see if the rumours were true?"

"What rumours?"

"You know Cagalli Yula Atha's been found right?"

"A-Ah-,"

"I heard she's in that hospital you came from. Did you know that?"

"O-Of course! I went there to try and interview her."

"So how did it go?" The taxi driver asked enthusiastically. "Did you see her? Me and my girl, we're really interested in knowing where she went. Such an important person! How could she just go missing like that?"

"No luck." Cagalli cleared her throat awkwardly, avoiding his gaze in the review mirror. "Didn't see her."

The cabbie's shoulders sagged. Behind him, someone honked for him to speed up.

"I shoulda expected that." He said disappointedly, stepping down as the car shot forward. "Bet the security in that hospital's real tight- all the stars go there when they want to do face-jobs and all."

"Oh." Cagalli knew better.

"Anyway, I hope you get your luck with Athrun Zala."

"Thanks." She found herself hoping so too. She'd forced Aaron to tell her the exact location of the remand centre, and hopefully, Marlin would not realize that and prevent her from doing what she had to.

"If he's there mister, he can't have run off. I don't think anyone can afford the bail these days with that place. Come to think of it, the option of bail wasn't even allowed for him."

"Is that right?" She tried to go on with the conversation, afraid that if she stopped, the taxi driver would get suspicious.

"He's a crazy-pot, that one." He made a right turn that felt like something had punched her stomach somewhat. She gasped, trying to sit properly lest she was flung against the side of the car where her injured arm would take the brunt.

"Crazy," He repeated.

"Crazy." She said unsurely.

"He's killed before you know."

"But that's his job as a soldier." She defended Athrun.

The taxi-driver snorted. "Yeah. And it's my job to pick flowers."

Despite her failure to see his logic, he continued, and she was forced to listen and respond.

The agony continued on for about forty-five more minutes. By the time he dropped her off, Athrun Zala was equivalent to a devil-worshipper who didn't believe in the Almighty God and who had convinced his father to do what his father had done. Moreover, Athrun Zala was definitely Devil's spawn who had the power to teleport and to vanish, and he had always been a genius who wanted to kill the American President and the Orb Princess. Athrun Zala had drank human blood before and controlled the underground thugs all over the world.

"It's true you know." The man said insistently.

The scary thing, Cagalli realized, was that everything had a grain of truth about it. Harumi was involved in this, and there was no denying that she must have helped Athrun at one point or another for Ko's sake.

Besides, Athrun was the son of a person that drew that distinct disdain, hatred or worse, pity when Patrick Zala's name was mentioned. That he was alive seemed to certify his existence as being a punching bag or a whipping boy for his father. He had his own sins too, but Patrick Zala's seemed to be his.

It wasn't fair, Cagalli thought desperately. It wasn't fair for him to be forced to live for fear that others would say his death was proof of his father's guilt, nor was it fair for him to live his life in the shadow of so many things of the past. He still did, even now. He knew that he didn't have to, but he couldn't help wanting to right the wrongs and to hold his head high once more. Even if that meant doing wrong things when the means justified the end. She could accept that if he did- she would, since he had.

She believed in Athrun Zala. She wanted to.

And for that exact reason, Cagalli was very glad to pay the taxi-driver and get out of the car. She tipped him generously, mostly because he seemed to take a very long time to get the change. She watched as he tipped an imaginary cap and smiled that little rat-smile again.

The zone was very noisy and there were loads of other cars or taxis. A great deal of people were rushing here and there and yet they were not moving beyond a certain line. As the taxis seemed to be moving off and many people seemed to be flooding around, Cagalli understood why her driver had assumed she was a reporter from the very mention of her destination.

The reporters were gathered outside in an outpouring of excitement and almpost grotesque fascination at the people held in the jail.

As her own taxi dropped her off, she realized she was alone in the car-waiting zone. Not alone per se, but entirely isolated and absolutely removed from all those who were begging to be let in. Those people held cameras, microphones- the whole gamut that they would try to blow up things with. The main entrance was a few metres away, but she suddenly felt like it was quite distance from where she'd been dropped off.

She watched as the crowd tried moving closer, but the guards at the main entrance carried guns and she knew what they were afraid of. It was true. Power did come from the barrel of a gun.

And as Cagalli neared the main entrance and found herself embroiled within the crowds already present, she looked at the faces of the guards and felt a shudder move up her spine. It wasn't that they were beefy and very threatening like all guards tended to be. It was simply that she had experienced rather unpleasant things where guards were involved. She joined the crowd, making sure her arm was kept away from the main jostling lines.

Simultaneously, she held herself firm and told herself that it was not the time to get panicky and all afraid with what had happened before and was unlikely to now. One reporter marched up to the guards, expressing hopes of also being let in.

That particular reporter made his request to enter and she as well as the other reporters watched. "I'm here to visit."

"No visits." The guard told him with a growly sort of voice. Listening along with the other reporters, Cagalli was forcibly reminded of a bear. "This is a no-visiting jail." He jabbed a thick finger at the barbed wire fence.

"I'm a reporter." The man said boldly. The guard looked at him as if he was insulted by her comment, and Cagalli realized immediately that if no visitors were allowed, no reporters would be either. It was the most obvious thing.

"Yeah, you'll be the tenth one I've turned away today." The other guard told the brave soul. "Scram, all of you. I don't care where you come from. No media allowed here. Get out before we have to forcibly remove you, all of you."

Watching from where she was, Cagalli grimaced, wondering if she would have to reveal who she was before they let her in. But then, they were unlikely to let her in if they knew who she was- even more unlikely than if she told them she was a reporter. There was a growing wall of grumbling and sounds of discontent, and she bit her lips, trying not to get bumped and trying to protect her arm as some shoved around.

"That's not fair," One tried to argue with the guards. "Why shouldn't the public know what's going on?"

The guard did not bother to argue back with him, for behind them, a car pulled up, and all of them turned to see another two cars pull up. Men in crisp suits sprang out of later two cars and formed neat lines, one of them opening the door of the remaining car. The reporters were forced to scramble like fish diving out of the way of the net, and the suit-wearing men lost no time. They formed lines blocking the reporters even as the latter group clamoured, their cameras snapping and flashing- momentary diamonds lost in the dust and absorbed by the growing darkness of the short winter afternoon.

Even while the suited men tried to hold back the reporters, a man moved out from the car. As he did, his slim, dark figure seemed to merge in the semi-darkness, but his hair was the unmistakable tint of snow. Finally, as the reporters were pushed back, the suited men saluted to him.

As Cagalli was forced into a path that the other reporters were in too, she squinted to see who had arrived. And as she did, she saw the emblem on the cars and recognized t hat it was the Galactic Court's emblem. She tiptoed, squinting, thus accidentally stepping on someone's foot to see who the new visitor was, and her eyes widened. She would have recognized him even if he'd been wearing a blonde wig.

"Sir!" One man was still in a salute. The reporters were now clamoring to interview the new visitor.

"Stay here." Cagalli heard Yzak Joule command. "I am going in alone. You will guard the car."

"Sir yes sir!"

Clearly, Cagalli noted, Yzak Joule did not put up with his subordinates questioning him.

Some reporters tried to move towards the cars where another person presumably sat behind the tinted windows. But they were shoved away by the bodyguards and Cagalli winced as one shouted an obscenity to the man who was merely doing his duty.

The guards at the main entrance saluted as he flipped open something to show his position. Cagalli did not have to look at it to know that he was reporting as a jury member of the Galactic Courts. Twelve people were put into the jury; three from Plant, three from Orb, and three from the Earth Alliance. He was most certainly going to be one.

As he disappeared through the gates, there was a collective sigh and a heavy air of annoyance and tension, along with disappointment.

Some were discouraged by such a sight and began to leave in their taxis. Some others stayed behind, waiting for Yzak Joule to reappear, Cagalli supposed. Most were leaving, clear that they would not get much luck even if Yzak Joule reappeared. His bodyguards were a grim presence and those articulated his unwillingness to hold interviews.

Most milled around, waiting a bit, talking to their camera crew, some reporters redoing their make-up, some men taking out cigarettes, some others looking through their notes again.

Within an hour, most had left.

In the next hour, there were five people left. The evening was getting colder and a bit of snow was falling. It would probably get heavier soon. Even those with cigarettes did not look warmer.

In the next half an hour, nobody had emerged from the remand centre and those outside grew increasingly discouraged. They left, cursing Yzak Joule for having such tight lips, and the guards for preventing them from entering.

But Cagalli stood her ground.

She would wait.

* * *

When Yzak finally emerged, Cagalli did not have to look around to know that she was the last one there. She had given up standing and had sat on a bit of concrete pavement, shivering a little and trying to think of warm, cosy blankets and hot drinks.

But even as she watched him emerge, two prison guards behind him and his bodyguards taking over, she understood that he had undergone a difficult time. He was about to replace his shades, and he would have made a beeline for the car.

Yet, she got up, rushing towards him, trying to get past his bodyguards.

"General!" Cagalli called. Her voice was hoarse from the cold and lack of usage, but it rang out surely enough.

He seemed ready to ignore the last reporter but she called out again and he froze, turning around.

As their gaze locked, she saw familiarity spring into his face, and then recognition and finally disbelief. The cap she wore on her head did not matter, nor did the dingy clothing and lack of any clear, recognizable features. He had understood in that second what she was here for.

"Let her go." He barked. "This is the Orb Princess!"

He saluted, his posture immediately stiffer than when he'd exited. She halted, not sure of what to do, looking around her as the men took a step or two back from her. She was all too aware that they thought she could be a suspect. She was all too aware that they did not trust her, as she did not trust them.

"Where are your manners?" Yzak Joule said sharply. His hand was still in the salute, and the bodyguards reluctantly did likewise, looking at her with surprise and some suspicion. "Lady Atha, I am thankful you are safe. You should be resting, not coming here. As both the Head General of Zaft and one of the Jury members, I can pledge that the Galactic Court is doing all it can to find evidence necessary for the trial."

She ignored that sense of queerly reminiscent incongruity and focused on Yzak instead. "Head General, I need your help."

He stared at her for another second, then sprang into action. He grabbed her hand, pulling her to the car, not bothering that the remand centre's guards were staring at both of them. The security and confidentiality of this place was far too strict for anyone to blab that she was here, and the look he shot the guards as he moved suggested that they'd be sorry if they told anything to anyone.

All the same, he shut the car door securely, nodding at her. "It's not safe to speak in this car- or anywhere until I say so. You'll have to wait."

As she tried to settle herself down, shivering and feeling herself warm up once more, she detected a slight lingering scent. A woman had sat in this car- whoever it had been. But those thoughts were frayed and strange, and she shook her head, trying to focus.

Now, Cagalli looked at Yzak. His eyes were guarded and his chin was tilted slightly in that trademark confidence. There was that familiar, cool skepticism about his person and the way he seemed to view world. Presently, he folded his hands with that clear strength about him, and he seemed to radiate disapproval even as the heater emitted its heat. Like Athrun, Cagalli realized, Yzak had taken on most of his physical features from his mother, but both seemed more masculine than any other men she could think of- Yzak with his power and authority, and Athrun with his quiet strength.

"Driver," He said curtly into a speaker he fetched upon having the doors locked, "Bring us to the Vice-General's accommodation."

"Roger, sir."

As he replaced the receiver, she gaze at him, trying to take in an appearance she'd never associated with Yzak Joule. Dressed as a civilian, she realized that he seemed more out of place than if he had walked on the streets in his usual white uniform. The proud tilt of his chin and the discipline of his frame was equally uncommon amongst the reporters and even his bodyguards.

"You shouldn't have come, your Grace." He said softly, as the car sped off. His eyes regarded her steadily, and she faltered under that blue gaze of mistrust and perhaps even slight antagonism.

She found no answer to that, but waited, trying to focus her thoughts and ignore the discomforting silence between them. The car purred to a stop eventually, and he got out, leading her out with an inbred courteousness that suddenly reminded her of Athrun.

And as Cagalli stepped out, coming face to face with him at the entrance of a luxurious-looking hotel, she understood how similar Athrun and Yzak were. Athrun had once mentioned something of Yzak's upbringing to her in the same breath as his own and the other Council members' children, and she now sensed the prestige and nobility of blood running through Yzak Joule's veins.

The hotel was a very large one and heavily guarded. From the looks of it, Cagalli could infer that it was probably tied to some diplomatic entity. As Yzak entered, he had to clear multiple security checks, as did she. In the lift, the silence between them sensed, and she twisted her hands anxiously.

Admittedly, Athrun had been very private with her and had distracted her with his warmth and cavalier traits. He'd made her forget that his family had once been highly respected and was to a certain extent, but Yzak Joule reminded her of what Athrun had once mentioned almost in passing.

None of the Council members' children were common even amongst the most extraordinary of Coordinators.

As they moved into a corridor, Yzak stopped outside one door and knocked. There was a pause as they waited, and then the door swung open to reveal Shiho Hahnenfuss. Dressed simply in casual clothes, Cagalli did not recognize her for a second.

If Cagalli had always been fond of Yzak's longtime subordinate and recently-announced fiancée, she found that she had never been fonder of Shiho at this point. The familiar face and the calm countenance was precisely what Cagalli had needed without realizing it, and without thinking, she threw herself into Shiho's arms, letting Shiho hug her back and then pull her to a chair, bidding her to sit.

As Yzak shut the door and turned around, Cagalli saw his expression soften. He said nothing as Shiho stroked Cagalli's face, but went to fetch some tea and set it out on the table with more finesse than Cagalli had actually expected to see. If Yzak Joule had been something of an imposing authority in her mind, now she realized how tactful he could be.

With that single gesture of pouring tea as his fiancée and Cagalli embraced, Yzak had certified her as a guest of a certain standing but reminded her that with him, she was ultimately not on the same terms she could relate to Shiho with.

While Cagalli could not drink anything, the steam and the scent of leaves made her feel slightly more at ease. Furthermore, Shiho sat by her side, those queerly coloured but very beautiful eyes regarding Cagalli gently in a way that made Cagalli miss Lacus even more.

Shiho said nothing, as was her way, but Cagalli knew how worried she was even now. For that reason, Cagalli found herself feeling more than a little forlorn when Yzak nodded at Shiho and signaled that they should be left alone. Like a child, she clung to Shiho's hands for a second before reluctantly letting go, and she was only marginally placated when Shiho nodded encouragingly at her before leaving to another room.

Yzak studied his fiancee's retreating figure for a second before channeling his gaze to Cagalli. His tone was very hard, and Cagalli wondered why she had expected him to have a private self. He was not like Athrun, she tried to remind herself. Even with Shiho, he was not inclined to put his duty aside at all.

"I'm apologize." Yzak said stiffly, as if reading her thoughts. "Shiho is not part of the Intelligence Council and confidentiality must be accounted for."

"I understand." Cagalli said in a low voice.

"Why were you there today?" Yzak asked directly.

She took in a deep breath, her need to know compelling her to do all that she could there and then. "I have to meet Athrun."

His eyes narrowed. "He has no right to see anyone except those who require information from him for the trial."

"But I have a right to see him." Cagalli argued. "I must see him."

There was a pause, and then Yzak's voice dipped low and dangerous.

"With all due respect, Your Grace," Yzak said softly. "If you were so sure you had a right to see him, why didn't you march through those gates and demand an audience with Athrun Zala?"

She faltered but grasped her answer before he could make the point that Cagalli did not want to accept. "There were too many reporters there."

"Oh?" He said bitingly. "You were the only one there when I exited, Lady Atha. Surely you could have gone in once the last reporter left?"

"I don't understand what you're trying to say." Cagalli told him, her voice growing harsh with anger. She sat upright in her chair, the air growing fine and crackling with energy around her. "You met him, didn't you? I should have the right to meet him too."

"With all due respect, Your Grace, you have as much right as Athrun Zala to see anyone who is not an official requiring information and a testimony."

"I know I'm a suspect now." Cagalli said through gritted teeth. "And I know you are no longer just a member of the Plant Supreme Council but a representative for the Galactic Courts. But that's precisely why I need you to let me meet him. I need to see him again, if only to tell him that I believe him."

Yzak bent forward, his eyes boring holes into her face. "I think you've done enough damage already, Lady Atha. I think you've long lost the right to decide what both of you have the freedom to do."

"But you must have seen him!" Her mouth was trembling. "He must be suffering- he needs someone to help him-,"

"I've seen him." Yzak agreed. He thought of Athrun, bruised and cold, grim but somehow with that numb triumph when Yzak had spoken to him. "And if he does require help, I don't think you have the ability or the right to help him."

"You don't understand!" She shot back. "I'm not just anyone- I'm-," Her voice trailed down as he stared harder at her.

"What don't I understand?" He interjected quietly, his expression very icy. "I know about his attempts to keep you with him. All that, despite the direct orders that you were to be transferred to another place. I know of all his excuses that became thinner and less believable as time passed. I know of every single time he brought you out of the place he was assigned to keep you in."

She fell silent. Somehow, she realized, Yzak must have known this and everything about them. Had he always known? Or had he found out, and had he decided to wash his hands off his subordinate and friend there and then?

While Cagalli wasn't too sure what the implications of her relationship with Athrun were, she was not ignorant enough to not sense the weight of the implications. But at the same time, there was something about Yzak's presence now and his role that seemed incongruent with what she was trying to make sense of.

Finally though, it clicked and she glared at him. "You were giving him instructions all along, weren't you?"

He nodded. "I will not deny that but I will clarify that I was only acting in my capacity as a member of the Plant Intelligence Council, after all."

"Then you must have known why he'd stayed at the Isle for so long." Her tone was accusing. "Were you the one who convinced him to stay and to take on all those things he never wanted to do?"

Yzak's lips tightened. "I know what you are trying to insinuate. You have no reason to do so, Your Grace. I have never denied using what I could to make an invaluable asset stay and to help the Isle's operation- even if it meant playing on the fact that Athrun Zala has always had feelings for his ward and you. More feelings than he could afford to keep, I think."

Cagalli's fist clenched and it was all she could do to stop herself from hitting Yzak. Even if she had never been on particularly intimate relations with him, she had always respected his capabilities and thought of him as Kira's friend at very least. "How could you do that to him? He's your friend, isn't he? Hasn't he always tried his best for you? Surely, you were supposed to do the same and protect him?"

He shook his head and his jaw tightened. "I will not apologize. You have your life intact because he stayed."

"But for what he's going through now?" She cried. "General, he needs you most at this time!"

"He brought most of this upon himself." The answer came without hesitation, like an executioner's axe swinging down. "For the record, Your Grace, I never saw him today when I visited the remand centre. I was there only to collect some testimonies from those who have admitted to their guilt of planning your kidnap and death- the same people who will testify Athrun Zala in two days' time."

She reeled back, her shoulders weak, her hands losing the fight to stay still. Hadn't there been a time when she'd insisted to Athrun that Yzak was no puppet of Zaft and would have fought for Athrun if Athrun had requested it? And Cagalli thought of the dry laughter Athrun had granted her when she'd insisted Yzak would always help him. Had Athrun been laughing at her naiveté then?

Who was this person now, sitting on the same seat but thinking of entirely different matters and reacting to a person she'd assumed he would always hold in high regard, no matter what Athrun's mistakes were?

"I don't understand you." Cagalli said, her voice faltering. "I thought you would stand by him. I didn't know that you were involved with this then, but I didn't think-," She trailed off, putting a hand to her temple, feeling a flush of shame and insecurity move over her.

"I'm afraid you misunderstood my friendship with Athrun Zala." He said firmly. "He and I understand that personal relations do not affect our professional duties- even if he failed to adhere to that basic principle in the end. I am not one who would ever throw away my duty, and certainly not a friend who's made one foolish decision after another."

"He made those decisions for me!" She burst out. "He must have! That has to be the only explanation why he was so cold to me at first!"

"He forgot himself and the obligations he had to keep you in the dark about the operation." Yzak stated without much feeling. The staccato, precise articulation of his language and his posture told her as much.

Despite the warmth in the room and the relative comfort, her entire frame was shaking. "Was that why he was so afraid of being honest with me every time I came close to knowing his true mission and why he had appeared that night?"

"That's exactly why." Yzak said heavily. "He and I knew very well that by meeting you again, he was likely to forget his mission and try to chase after the past. I warned him as frequently as I could that he could not get too close to you, lest he ended up acting in a way that would jeopardize his privilege from Plant and Zaft to exercise his discretion within his job scope. He has already lost that privilege."

As Yzak refilled his own cup, Cagalli stared at him. As disappointed as she was in that moment, she understood exactly what Yzak was saying. Marlin had told her that Athrun Zala's employers had declared that what he had done was not what they had ordered, and Athrun Zala would have to face his own actions with the responsibility as his to bear. Here, nobody even questioned whether he'd been the one to attack and kill the High King unnecessarily.

Like the rest of the world, Marlin thought that it had merely been a mix-up and an internal power struggle between Athrun and the people who were claiming to be his supporters. Cagalli though, did not know what to think with Yzak's unwillingness to correct what the world thought of Athrun.

With what Yzak had said, it was becoming painfully clear to Cagalli that Athrun had lost the trust he needed the most. Still, he had hers. She wanted to believe that Athrun had always had a reason for sending her to the palace or at least- giving her an opportunity to go there. He must have done it to keep her safe, but something must have gone wrong at the last minute. She believed so. She wanted to believe so.

"He's not the only one who forgot himself in favor of what the past was." Cagalli said tightly. "I am to blame too."

"Of course." Yzak said coolly, setting down his cup. "I never forgot that."

She shrank back, for his words and intent had been harsher than a strike across her face.

He picked up the phone on the table next to him and pressed a button. His tone was still controlled, but there was strong dislike and scorn in his voice. "Get the car ready. I want you to head to the hospital that the Orb Princess is situated in."

"Roger. Will you be going too, sir?"

"Of course," He said, his voice radiating sarcasm. "It's only polite to escort a guest back."

But Cagalli knew why. He didn't want her to control the driver and make the driver go back to the remand centre. He must have sensed her intentions to head back there and use the car's presence to talk the guards into letting her through to see Athrun on the Galactic Court's authority.

She gazed at him and knew, as she always had, that he was no fool. Athrun had always reminded her of that whenever she had occasionally brought up Yzak Joule's name quite unsuspectingly, and now she knew why.

Still, she had to try. If Cagalli could not appeal to his professional discretion, she would appeal to him as a person.

Not realizing the implications of what she unconsciously did, Cagalli reached to his hand, touching it apprehensively. "Yzak, please-,"

He replaced the phone and looked at her with an anger she felt she deserved, cutting the line and her last hopes off entirely. Even the hand she had put on his in a subconscious effort to prove to him that she wanted nothing more than Athrun to be fine seemed weak and unnecessary on that disciplined arm.

His voice was quiet but filled with fury. "You don't know what he's done for you."

* * *

Two days later, Athrun was put from the enclosure into the circus.

The courtroom he was put into made him think of the deep, bottomless seas and oceans- wide, vast; blue and somehow empty and shaded with darkness with unknown creatures lurking somewhere unknown. There wasn't the grey and sepia one was accustomed to seeing of courts- this place was shaded in shadows. More shadows than light.

This wasn't a sea of life or a body of water that evoked a sense of freedom- this was a hollow, frightening place where nothing seemed to exist while one knew everything could be dangerous.

As Athrun walked, he knew all eyes were following him. The courtroom was filled, and he had the sickening feeling that if popcorn had been allowed, the officials and the authorities here would have stocked their supplies.

"That's him."

He heard one official whisper to another. "That's Athrun Zala."

Even inside here, Athrun knew there were protests outside the Galactic Courtroom, even if the media was at least thirty meters away from the courtroom. But as it was, the circus didn't need more clowns. It already had its star freak.

It wasn't every day that Athrun Zala reappeared out of nowhere, in the exact location that Cagalli Yula Atha had been found. There were murmurs and hands held to lips, as if that prevented anyone from seeing or hearing the excitement in the court. After all, it wasn't every day that a missing princess turned up with the accusation of her planning and almost executing an assassination. Not just any assassination, mind you, but a conspiracy involving Pietre Harraldsson, the Head of Sweden, High King of Scandinavia, and a key member of the Earth Alliance's High Council.

The media, whether it was from Orb, Scandinavia, Plant or from everywhere, really, had demanded for public accountability. News had somehow leaked out that the Orb Princess had been found together with Athrun Zala, son of Patrick Zala, and the Danish terrorists that actually had existed. In other words, she'd been mixed up and put alongside what history deemed madmen, killers and people others did not think of as people.

He tried to ignore the way the spectators were murmuring, judging him and the others to be the same as Greyfriars' men. Or perhaps, he was deluding themselves. The Eyes, himself, they were no different from the others. They had all believed in the greater good and killed to obtain it.

There was an awful moment of déjà vu when Athrun felt as if his bound hands held a wooden toy and he was being asked to unscramble something that he did not want to. Something that would be unscrambled then scrambled and then passed to him to unscramble again.

"He disappeared for nearly seven years, you know."

Suddenly, he was a child again and his mother was distracted by something someone was asking her. She was being led away and he was being led onto a stage and he saw nothing familiar and no faces except the square jaws of cameras and disjointed limbs controlling those.

Blinking lights were everywhere and those were numbed as he tried to hold back his tears and focus on the clock and the puzzles put into his hands. If he played well, maybe his father would smile at him.

He blinked. So little had changed, even if there were no cameras in this courtroom.

"Do you think he did it?"

"Of course- he's that man's son-,"

"I bet you a thousand-,"

"I say, doesn't he look like a murderer."

A voice rose above all.

"Court in session!"

There was a rustle and the surrender to eventual silence as the Jury entered and sat, dressed in black like crows or ministers at a funeral. Either was an ominous sign. Lacus Clyne was not amongst them. She was in the courtroom however, and she was present below, with the rows of other officials from Orb, Scandinavia, Earth Alliance and Plant that had been allowed to attend the court proceedings.

Athrun glanced around, not really seeing anybody from where they sat above him, in their enclosed areas, watching him in his own enclosure. Those in the courtroom had assumed very pale complexions and strangely jet-colored or very pale eyes- like the negatives of a photography. They were soulless creatures. All of them bowed to the judge. Athrun did so too, but his eyes were trained to find a familiar face and his heart beat faster each time he thought it was her.

But she wasn't here. Perhaps it was just as well.

He did not want to see any familiar faces. Of course, they were all there; some curious, some hesitant, most grim. But he did not want to see them lighting was bluish, somewhat dimmer than what one would expect. Athrun was thankful for this, because harsher lighting would have illuminated every face in the court.

Conversely, the spots where the accused, the witnesses, and the attorneys would stand were areas where the harshest lighting was allocated. Nothing like a Gestapo-styled questioning to make things move quickly, Athrun thought wryly. The funniest thing was that all eyes were on him, even though he wasn't even being questioned right now. It was almost as if the court and the jury knew exactly what the real fish was, and that all the terrorists who were lined up and to be questioned were only small krill leading to the ultimate end they wanted to see- his conviction as their leader and the person who had manipulated and killed.

The prosecutorial team was gathered in the left corner, discussing the final time with quick glances and notes that each one passed around.

The main prosecutor was already in his position, waiting for the accused in person to be brought in and led to the stand. Athrun recognized him quite instantly; Balwin Minrofherf was a Coordinator in his early forties and had served Plant's legal service some time before the Second War had broken out. Minrofherf had been a deputy public prosecutor during the trials of those who had committed war crimes in the First War, and it was not the first time that Athrun was meeting him. Minrofherf had been a senior counsel for a long time and he had been known for being sly, acute and very precise.

For the past few days, every single member of the Danish Nationalist Faction had admitted to their crimes. They were not afraid to die. No trial was further necessary for them, and most of them would only appear in court as witnesses providing testimony to support the evidence that was against Athrun. Athrun could already see the Galactic Court's appointed defense attorney sweating bullets.

The judge and the jury sat high above the court, not quite visible. Their voices seemed disconnected, as if they were a form of higher authority. It was rather harrowing, the way the people sat in separate enclaves, separated by balconies, as if they had come to watch an opera. Athrun could name each member of the twelve person jury. For this case, the court had had doubled the number to be sure. The three superpowers had four representatives each. In other words, members of the Supreme Council of Plant, Orb's Parliament, and the Earth Alliance's key leaders would be the jury.

Yzak Joule was amongst the Jury selected for today's trial, in his white uniform. His face was calm, but his eyes were shards of anger consumed by blue, dilated pupils. There was something uneasy about him and that seemed to radiate from where his was. His fingers were crossed under his chin, and his mouth was a straight line of discomfort.

As the charge was read out, Athrun recognized the tension increasing. That was the tension he had been accustomed to feeling around him as a child- the way all eyes were glued on him, the way they were expecting something as he handled what would have been a simple toy in other children's hands. And like he had been in the past, he was numb to it.

"The accused, Mr. Zala, stands in court today with the following charges: First, a charge of causing grievous hurt to Pietre Harraldsson II, High King of Scandinavia and King of Sweden. Second, my client faces the charge of criminal conspiracy with the Danish Nationalist Faction, which will hereby be referred to as the Faction. Third, my client faces the charge of criminal abetment of the Danish Nationalist Faction by way of supplying funds, weapons and classified information privy only to the members of the Plant Intelligence Council. Lastly, my client faces the charge of kidnap and attempted murder of the Orb Princess, who will hereby be referred to as Ms. Atha."

"Proceed, prosecution."

"Thank you, Your Honour. May it please the court," The prosecutor rose, his face stern and his peppery-coloured hair glinting under the light, "I am Balwin Minrofherf, Glactic Court prosecutor for suit number forty-three. If Your Honour and the jury would not like a restatement of the facts, I will proceed to question the defendant, Mr. Zala."

The judge shook his head. "For the benefit of the jury, I think a restatement of your case must be read out, Prosecutor."

Athrun could not see the faces of those judging him. But Athrun was aware there were twelve jury members. There were four from each superpower, and they were supposed to be impartial. Athrun knew that it was as likely as him not having to go through questioning.

Athrun wondered if it was hardly fair. Each of the representatives were bound to be partial in some way or another. But he understood that normal civilians could not be asked to act as the jury. A few others were sitting as witnesses of the trial proceedings. Photography was banned, particularly that belonging to the paparazzi. An official statement was inevitable, but it would be carefully vetted and all three superpowers to agree with it before its release.

If anything, the courtroom was a warped circus stage, without the cheer of the clowns and the animals but the whispers of all those present. The wooden benches and tables at the lowest level where Athrun waited were washed with the strange glow of the light, and he felt like a creature being scrutinized while dissected in a petri-dish.

"Your Honour," The prosecutor recited, pacing a little but maintaining his control of the court quite effortlessly, "The accused, Mr. Athrun Zala, is twenty-five this year and at present, not employed by Zaft or the Plant Intelligence Council, which he possibly served in the past. Before returning to Orb and rejoining Zaft after the Second War, it is crucial to note that Mr. Zala had defected twice from Zaft and from the service of Plant. It is equally key to state here that he had been employed briefly in the Orb military forces after the Second War, although criminal allegations forced him to resign and leave Orb."

There were murmurs in the court that broke out in the background, and even the judge seemed too caught up with the provided details to want to put an end to the noises.

Athrun did not look at the section of the jury that contained his past employers. As it was, he could not blame them anymore than himself.

"Moreover, Your Honour," Minrofherf continued, "Mr. Zala here has been missing from the public's eye for nearly seven years since the Second War ended. Other than admitting that he was in their service until recently, the head of the Intelligence Council has declared that he was given permission to retain key businesses and operate these for their purposes. These include weapon-manufacturing businesses and biochemical industries."

Athrun knew what the prosecution's tactic was. Painting Athrun Zala as an elusive, enigmatic figure was enough. The dirt of the past and his father's life would do the damage that the prosecution did not have to waste additional words on. In fact, the prosecution's conspicuous failure to mention Athrun Zala's father shone more spotlights on that fact than mentioning it- something the court was sensitive to.

"If it pleases the court," Minrofherf stated, "I will begin the questioning."

The judge nodded, looking more apprehensive than Athrun would have thought possible.

"Thank you, Your Honour."

Athrun was prodded by the bailiff to rise. As he did, he felt his knees weaken. He had never felt so helpless before, but Athrun decided that he had every reason to today. As a default, he tried to keep his face neutral and his gaze leveled.

"Mr. Zala," The prosecutor asked almost conversationally, "With regard to the charge of kidnapping the Orb Princess and inflicting harm onto her, can you tell us why you were employed by Zaft and specially, the Plant Intelligence Council?"

"As you said," Athrun said quietly, "I was asked to leave Orb. There was no chance for me to seek exoneration before I was asked to leave, and while there was no criminal charge, I was not allowed to return and work in the military. At that point, I returned to Plant and was offered a job I held for the subsequent years."

"Mr. Zala," Minrofherf feigned surprise, "I am surprised you would be offered a job with an employer you had defected from twice when you had such doubt cast on yourself in another country."

The defence attorney was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honour! This question is far too personal and pointed for my client to answer fairly!"

"Objection sustained." The judge called. "The prosecution will refrain from questioning the judgment of Plant and Zaft."

"I apologise Your Honour," Minrofherf continued smoothly- so smoothly that Athrun was sure that the question had been asked on purpose in the first place. "And of course, to the learned jury as well."

Yzak Joule looked sterner than before and the other two members from Plant who were in the jury looked extremely unhappy.

"Mr. Zala," Minrofherf stated casually, "With regard to the second charge of criminal conspiracy with the Faction and your role as an Eye at that time, can you tell the court of whether this was part of your duties?"

Athrun looked blankly at him. "I was ordered to infiltrate the circles of the Faction and to gain their trust. This was to understand what their plans were and to circumvent them."

"And how long did this take?"

"About three years."

"I see." Minrofherf turned to the jury. "Clearly, Mr. Zala had shuffled between his duties and those additional ones borne out of his original obligation."

"Objection!" The defense interjected. "The prosecution cannot make the insinuation that my client wavered in his loyalties without any real proof!"

"Your Honour," Minrofherf turned to the judge but threw a mocking glance at Athrun and the defense attorney, "The evidence does exist, as will emerge in my line of questioning."

"Objection overruled," The judge decided. "Continue, prosecution."

He knew there was a trap. But how else could he speak without being trapped?

"Mr. Zala," the prosecutor said triumphantly. "I would like to know what the Faction's plans were, and how did you circumvent them, if at all?"

"I and my colleagues found out that they were keen to kill the Orb Princess, Cagalli Yula Atha to attract attention to the region. Under the instructions of my superiors, I volunteered to help them aboard the SS Rafael." Athrun paused. "The Faction launched an attack while on the ship, but she was brought to safety."

"Then Mr. Zala," the prosecutor concluded, "That means you helped them instead of circumventing their plan!"

The mutters in the courtroom swelled until the judge banged the gavel.

"Thank you, Your Honour," Minrofherf said mildly. The defense had no chance for an objection whereas the prosecution was already continuing. "You say, Mr. Zala, that you were to circumvent their plans, but you effectually helped them aboard the ship. How do your reconcile your words and your actions?"

"The faction was planning to kill her." Athrun said. His voice was not loud, but it carried in the entire courtroom and there were gasps from some in the gallery. His voice grew stronger as he stared at every member of the jury. "They would have killed her that night on the SS Rafael to attract the world's attention to Scandinavia. I was instructed to convince them to keep her alive and to bring her to safety, which was what I did."

The prosecutor did not back down. "Still, you have yet to explain how you could even bring the terrorists onboard while playing double roles."

"The ship had to dock at some point. During that time, a shipment of wine was brought aboard- wine from a company that existed only in name. The faction members hid in the barrels, which were not checked thoroughly that night."

"I see. There was careful planning there." Minrofherf said, rather impressed. "And when they attacked, where were you, Mr. Zala?"

"I was on the deck." Athrun revealed. "I had met the Orb Princess."

Minrofherf looked sharply at him. "Then you had a chance to escape with her and to send her back to Orb. Why couldn't you have done so?"

"She was injured. She got shot in the chest." Athrun told the court and jury. He paused, thinking of Cagalli's fears and what she had confided in him. He did not want to share the details of how she could have shot herself and why she had with the people who had no right knowing of what Cagalli had confided to him. "She got hurt in the scuffle but had made it up on the deck."

"From there," Minrofherf checked a testimony sheet, "You and your colleague by the name of Tom Edgeworth brought her back to the Plants- specifically, to a hospital in December City."

"Yes." Athrun kept his face straight. He watched as a memer of the jury representing Plant passed a file to the judge and the judge read it, pursing his lips slightly.

"Your Honour," The defense spoke up, "I think it is prudent to remind the jury that my client was only acting as part of his professional duties at that time. His involvement in the purported kidnap of the Orb Princess was to facilitate his role as an intelligencer in Scandinavia. He did not cause her an injury."

"No," The prosecution cut in before the judge could say anything. "He allowed the terrorists to do that."

"According to the testimony of Yzak Joule, Head General of Zaft and member of Supreme Council of Plant and the Plant Intelligence Council," The judge told the court, closing the file he had been perusing. "Athrun Zala received permission to join the terrorists to gain information. What happened was an accident. The witness, who was the accused's colleague and present at the scene, has already provided a testimony that supports the account that the accused has provided. At this point, I think I should conclude that Athrun Zala is thus cleared of the charge of kidnapping and harming the Orb Princess, as the jury has given me notice of."

There were mutters everywhere until the judge banged the gavel.

Athrun however, saw the prosecutor smile, as if he had expected this all along and was planning on using it. It filled Athrun with unease but more than that, he knew it would be soon that Cagalli was called in to testify.

* * *

When court was in session again, Athrun knew it was unlikely that anyone's testimony would be of any use to him. As it was, Sheba's testimony was part of the prosecutor's plan to show that Athrun had long abandoned his duty to work with the faction, and Athrun knew that Sheba was powerless to testify otherwise.

"Your Honour, the first witness of today is Sybilia Van Housen, employed by the Plant Intelligence Council and Zaft."

As the gavel was banged once, the guards brought in the first of the accused. There were murmurs all around as Sheba moved in, her walk rather reminiscent of a person who had nothing to be ashamed of. Athrun heard someone comment that Sybilia Van Housen looked as beautiful as she had when she had served in Zaft, and then eloped with her superior.

Her face was calm on its surface, but he sensed a dark hatred seeping from every pore. Her snow-colored hair hung loose, long and ungroomed from the ordeal of the past few days. But Athrun knew that she appeared even more beautiful. Her head was tilted, defiant but not overtly, and there was a way she could control the air around her. She seemed above the fact that the warden in charge of her was taking his time to usher her into position because he was staring his eyes out of his head.

There were more people taking their seats as Sybilia alias Sheba was brought in, and he was cued to sit as well, behind his personal set of bars. He watched as Tom, opposite him on the far end of the grounds, cursed silently. Barnett, towards his left, looked pale and ill. Her usual ponytail had come loose, and her autumn-colored hair had lost some of its glossiness. Lent's glasses were missing- he had no need to use those when he had perfect eyesight, but the absence of the familiar tools made him look like a less benign, friendly person.

The others would be brought in later.

On the other side, Athrun recognized a few of Greyfriars' men. One shook a fist at him rather unsuccessfully- it was tied behind with the other at the back of the chair.

When Athrun smiled to provoke him, the man howled and tried to lunge even five meters away. He was successfully detained once his personal baliff shot him with a stun gun. Naturally, the courtroom was filled with murmuring and it was enough that those present were components of a circus.

As those present tried to settle down, the judge banged his gavel at least thrice.

"Begin questioning, prosecution," The judge snapped.

"Yes, Your Honour."

"Sybilia Van Housen," rapped Minrehorf, "You are here today to provide testimony against one of the accused. Athrun Zala faces one particular charge of being an international terrorist with the crime of instigating bad relations between Orb and Scandinavia by means of manipulating the Orb Princess into shooting the High King of Scandinavia. Another related charge is his kidnap of the Orb Princess, as derived from the testimony of the Faction members' testimony."

Sheba's stoic expression did not change. Given that she had strolled right into Poland after the Plant Intelligence Council had declared her and a few others to be working for it, she had no reason to be afraid, Athrun thought wryly, seeing that she had always acted within the lines of her duty. "It is true that I work as an intelligencer for Zaft. Proof of this has already been submitted by my employers. I will testify to the best of my abilities."

The prosecutor coughed, feeling slightly out of depth with the woman who he was supposed to question. Yet, she seemed to be the one leading here.

"How long have you been reporting to the accused, Mr. Athrun Zala, otherwise known as Rune Estragon?"

"I do not report to him in the way that you are insinuating." Sheba said firmly. "He may be a superior, but I did not work for him in the scope of what he has done."

"How did you know the first accused, Mr. Zala then?"

"He was- no, is- a colleague." Her expression was steely.

Athrun wondered if he ought to feel glad at her loyalty towards him. But he caught a disapproving glimmer in Yzak's eyes and knew that Sheba would have to explain herself later.

"Ms. Velasco," The prosecutor asked, "Will you tell us what the scope of your professional duties as an Intelligencer, otherwise codenamed Eye, included?"

She took in a deep breath. "I instructed elite soldiers on Zaft military training ground."

"Where is this place?"

Sheba showed no change in expression. "In Aprilius city, back in the Plants. My job was to train the elite soldiers of Zaft who were sent there. So was Athrun Zala's. The skills we both taught included hand-to-hand combat and piloting."

This was true, Athrun knew, but only partially. There were a whole host of other duties Sheba had, but she was not revealing those, nor where the real location of the place she had carried her duties out in was. The Intelligence Council must have already briefed each Eye on what to say.

"Indeed." The prosecutor paced. "Were you ever posted to Scandinavia as part of your training?"

"Never." She said firmly. "I have a duty of confidentiality to my employers, which I have not been discharged of. But I can safely say that the place I worked in was in the Plants and at no point, in Scandinavia."

"Objection, Your Honour!" The prosecution was frowning. "How could you never have been posted in Scandinavia when you were there to break up the conflict between the Orb troops and Danish Nationalist Faction, as they call themselves?"

Sheba's eyes darkened slightly but she did not hesitate more than she could. "I and the other Eyes were called in to prevent a fight our superiors had learnt of."

"A fight that was allegedly started by Athrun Zala, your colleague." The prosecutor pressed.

"Yes." Sheba had no choice but to agree. "I did go to Scandinavia. The Eyes rushed over to break it up just in time."

"And how did you know the fight occurred in Scandinavia?" The prosecution questioned. "Or for that matter, in the Swedish Palace?"

Sheba paused. "I and the others received instructions including the location. The information was passed down directly from the superiors, and I can only guess that other intelligencers within Scandinavia got wind of the situation there."

"Prosecution," The judge interjected. "Continue with the questioning- the circumstances of the place are not so important for the purposes of this testimony to ascertain that the accused Athrun Zala overstepped the limitations of his duty."

"Yes, Your Honour." The prosecution cleared his throat. He was losing his nerve with Sheba, Athrun realized. Yet, he didn't need to do more than show that Athrun's scope of employment had been vastly different from that of Sheba's for the court to believe that Athrun would have naturally decided to abandon his duties. By virtue of his heritage, Athrun's conviction was inevitable.

But he had no time to dwell on the thoughts of others. The questioning continued.

"Ms. Velasco, or perhaps, Ms. Van Housen, when did you start working with Mr. Zala? And in the course of your relationship as colleagues, did he have a history of insubordination?"

"No." She held her head high. "He behaved professionally and within the grounds of discretion that all Intelligencers must have to act for their employers' interests."

"But I understand that you had another colleague by the alias of Sanders Gargery," The prosecutor feigned surprise. "As I understand the testimony by a member of the Intelligence Council whose name I am not at the liberty to disclose, Athrun Zala took over Gargery's role after Gargery was killed in action."

He watched her expression grow troubled against her will. She knew where this was going, but Sheba still took orders from Zaft and her superiors. Likewise, Athrun understood what Tom, Lent and Barnett were here for, and he could not blame them for what they would have to do against him.

"Athrun Zala was put in charge because he was competent," Sheba said steely. "And because he was the right man for the job."

"I see." The prosecutor nodded, smiling a little, pulling out another file and staring at it. "Would you say, Ms. Velasco, that Athrun Zala had always reported of everything to his superiors and colleagues?

Athrun knew what the prosecutor was doing. Any evidence of insubordination would act as evidence for criminal conspiracy with the terrorists. And frankly, Sheba was treading a very thin line against her own employers' instructions while trying to provide assistance to Athrun. As he looked at Sheba, Athrun knew it was a matter of time before she let a stray thread loose and it unraveled to expose him.

* * *

The questioning went on for another two hours.

When the Eyes had been questioned, the defense was called to question the witness for the charge of criminal abetment of the Danish Nationalist Faction by way of supplying funds, weapons and classified information privy only to the members of the Plant Intelligence Council

"If it pleases the court," The defense started, "I am Seun Pavilocke, counsel for the accused, Mr. Athrun Zala. If the court would not like a restatement of the facts, I will proceed to question the defendant, Mr. Zala. As it stands today, Mr. Zala's employers have denied responsibility over his actions that were carried out in the Swedish Place- the same events the court must turn its eye to today."

"Yes, Your Honour." The defense looked slightly queasy. He had been hired for the court procedure's sake, and he certainly did not believe for a second that the client imposed upon him had been innocent of the charges for a moment.

For the first charge, a man that Athrun vaguely recalled as being particularly somber and almost lethargic was called in. In court, Nate Orka appeared the same- detached and almost corpse-like.

The prosecutor began the questioning.

"Witness, it has been established that you are a member of a self-named organization called the Danish Nationalist Faction."

"Yes. We believe in Denmark's need for independence. Denmark must break away from Scandinavia and rule itself." This was the only time when Orka looked vaguely alert.

There were murmurs in the court and those were silenced only by the gavel.

"Aside from your political beliefs, Mr. Orka," The prosecution said carefully, "Can you tell me why all of you were so willing to do dangerous things against most people's ethical beliefs?"

"We kidnapped the Princess even though she wasn't directly our enemy," Orka said heavily. "Amongst many other things. But beyond believing there was a need for action, we believed there was only one kind of useful action because our leader convinced us it was necessary."

"Regarding your leader," The prosecutor pressed, "Am I correct to say that this man's name is Greyfriars, as all the other members of your faction call him?"

Orka nodded.

"Mr. Orka, you said in your testimony that all the members of the Danish Nationalist Faction were led by the accused into believing that capturing the Orb Princess would establish the attention your faction needed."

"Yes." Orka answered. He lifted his eyes briefly to regard the other members who were held behind bars. "All of us make no other claim. He is amongst us today."

"Objection!" The defense was on his feet. "The testimony given by Mr. Orka states that their leader was Greyfriars! The accused has not given any statement confessing to being the leader of these terrorists!"

"Your Honour," The prosecution turned to the judge and jury. "It is important to note now that Mr. Zala chose to remain silent for the entire length of his stay at the remand centre with regards to his role within the faction."

"Proceed, Prosecution," The judge boomed.

"Thank you, Your Honour."

The defense found no words to object, and the silence at the uncontested claim made it clear who the jury was going to believe.

The prosecutor glanced at Athrun Zala grimly, then back at the person being questioned. "Is it fair to say, Mr. Orka, that you did not know he was an Intelligencer at that point?"

"Frankly," Orka told the court, "Very few of us trusted the person leading us. Greyfriars, as he was known at that time, seemed too eager to help us. Why would he do that if he didn't share his political cause? We did think he could possibly be a spy from the Scandinavian palace or perhaps from some other country."

"Mr. Orka," The prosecution was leading him in the direction that Athrun could see miles away. "If you did suspect that the accused was not one of you, why did you trust him still?"

Orka stood tall. "Because he promised us that he had a way of gaining access to the SS Rafael. He funded our activities and showed us a way to smuggle ourselves on board that night."

While all of you found your way aboard the royal yacht that night, you injured a total seventy-five guards and killed five of them. Were all of you involved in this?"

"Yes. We needed all the help we could get."

"Where was your leader during this?"

"Greyfriars was not on board. He obviously didn't want to get involved in the scuffle."

"Who is Greyfriars?"

"The man sitting there."

He turned to point at Athrun Zala.

* * *

-7 days.


	30. Chapter 29

**I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

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**Hello dear readers! Sorry it's been taking me so long- the exams are breathing down my neck. Hard. Also I've been wondering whether to compress the final two chapters into one and have an epilogue (which trust me, is kinda important in many ways) or to cut out the epilogue and thus have two chapters. What I've done is to make this chapter a little shorter, but I'll retain the last chapter (31:chapter 30) and to keep the epilogue in it. Thanks for reading up to here and keep those reviews coming! I really enjoy those. :) **

**And look out for some surprises that I've been saving within this chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 29

* * *

Yzak Joule had many accomplishments to his name. The title of Head General of Zaft was just one of those, although it was currently the crowning jewel of his military awards. At the same time, Yzak Joule was not going to stay stagnant in his collection of titles. There was already talk that he was going to progress to Vice-Chairman of Plant soon, for he had developed Zaft incredibly well over the years. It didn't matter who he really was away from the public—he was competent and a rising star in galactic politics and that was all that people wanted to know. Nobody wanted to know about the rationale behind his decisions, for they only wanted to know what his decisions were.

His colleague, one of the three as part of the jury, turned to him. His colleague whispered, "Head General, how long more do you think this will last before Athrun Zala pleads guilty?"

Yzak replied quietly. He looked at the list of charges and the relevant evidence supporting those. "It doesn't matter if he pleads guilty or not."

"That's true." His other colleague muttered. "He will still be pronounced guilty and convicted."

For people who didn't know him personally, Yzak Joule was thought to have been born and bred to be a politician. For people who knew him personally, Yzak Joule was definitely one who had been born and bred to be a politician. His whole life had been mapped out for him ever since he had been a child. From a private kindergarten to having horse-riding and fencing lessons, he had progressed to elite schools and the university—each place more elite than the last.

Even in Zaft, Yzak Joule had performed brilliantly and was put into elite factions. He was an elite in terms of his social and work circles, and that was that. Of course, his trial after the First War had been a minor hiccup, but that had been a small hurdle to his otherwise unchanged course to joining the political elite. His fiancée was not very different from him and both of them seemed to have been perfectly matched, even if not by their own choice. It wasn't merely that Yzak Joule had been privileged to be Ezalia Joule's son, for he had an aggression that flowed in his blood and the desire to carve his mark on the world in the highest places that he could reach.

Or at least, that was what he was expected to continue doing.

As one of the three current Plant representatives sat and watched people testify come and go, Yzak wondered if all his ambition and struggling was worth little now. It mystified him because he had seen very little failure in his life, and those stumbling events he'd encountered had usually been turned into personal victories anyway.

It seemed to him that he'd done everything that he was bound to do. He'd always planned his career path in the way the best of archers would have plotted their trajectories before drawing the bow; he'd always strived and aimed to do his best, and he'd always—always-- kept his duties as his top priority. He was respected by his men, regarded very highly by his superiors, and certainly on the fast track to the top. Some people said his achievements were actually his mother's, and some said that he'd merely had more luck that had brought his power. Certainly though, Yzak Joule's power had come in great magnitude.

But now he felt powerless.

As it was, the terrorists were witnesses in the case against Athrun, but they too were the accused with their own trials that would be carried out after they'd testified against Athrun. As each terrorist pointed to Athrun being the mastermind of all their crimes of conspiracy and treason against the High King of Scandinavia, Pietre Harraldsson, Yzak knew that they were lying. It wasn't so much that he had proof as much as his gut, and Yzak Joule trusted his instincts more than anything else in the world.

But with one cross-examination, each after the other, the prosecutor was having a very easy time. It was almost like a factory production of the answers that the jury needed to answer their questions. As Yzak gazed at the two other Plant representatives, he felt his stomach churn at how they were nodding and agreeing with everything Minrofherf was saying and implying about Athrun's character.

In fact, with how everything was turning out, Yzak thought to himself wryly, the defense attorney shouldn't even have bothered coming. As it was, Athrun Zala had refused to have a defense attorney as if anticipating the waste of time and resource it would be. Yet, one had been attached to him as a matter of procedure, and the attorney was basically watching as every criminal confessed without a way or much of a will to change Athrun's Zala's fate.

One Plant representative was from the Home Affairs division and the other a diplomat for Scandinavia. None of them had ever worked in Zaft or the Intelligence Council that had hidden so many operations secret for so long, and so the two would never sympathize in the way Yzak could towards Athrun Zala. The Plant representatives' lack of empathy towards Patrick Zala's enigmatic ways made it almost certain that Athrun stood no chance against the rest of the jury, who weren't even from Plant.

"I think Zala has no more defence left." Yzak hear the Plant representative on his right whisper to the other one at the far end of the jury's bench. "I'm just glad he was discovered before he could make use of his position to do something similar to his father's crimes. It's bad enough that Scandinavia's leader is already brain-dead."

Yzak knew that those whispers were coming from other sections of the jury as well. The Orb section was looking suspiciously at Plant and Scandinavia's representatives, and the Earth Alliance were preoccupied with scrutinizing Athrun, who sat at the far end of the courtroom in his binds.

Yzak was the kind of person who always planned; the sort of person who could never be caught unprepared except for his own weakness—his temper and brash nature. He'd mastered that over the years for most part, but now, he wondered why everything seemed worthless. What was the point of all the trying and all the power that he'd acquired when he couldn't even save a man he wanted to save?

As it was, it was likely that Athrun would either face the death penalty or life imprisonment. Every single one of the terrorists seemed to have been numbed by something and was testifying against him- naming him as Greyfriars beyond being Rune Estragon, the intelligencer that Zaft had brought in. At the same time, the terrorists seemed to show open admittance to their crimes. They confessed to arson, murder, bomb-planting, every single thing and the kidnap of Cagalli Yula Atha. The crimes varied and so did the level of ease the prosecution faced with each new terrorists that was brought to the stand.

Now, Yzak noted with sick satisfaction that all were consistently naming Athrun Zala as their leader. They were of like mind, he knew. None of them would admit that amongst the dead bodies scattered in the Swedish palace on the day that the place had been attacked and then the assailants led away, Greyfriars had laid amongst his loyal followers.

Nobody in the jury, not even his colleagues, had ever seen Greyfriars before. Yzak had though, and he knew that as Athrun had been led out of the place, Athrun must have passed by the bodies of those who had fallen and spotted Greyfriars amongst them. Amidst his followers, Greyfriars looked like any other grunt who had been swept up by nationalistic frenzies and had died in some random scuffle. There was nothing to differentiate Greyfriars from his followers. Naturally, the triers of fact turned their suspicions towards Athrun Zala, who'd suddenly reappeared after nearly seven years.

There was only tough luck for Athrun and the defense attorney, Yzak realized, for Athrun could not be saved when his own employers wanted their secrets to go with the Intelligencer who'd bungled everything up. And that was why Yzak Joule had been chosen to be one of the jury members—his job was to ensure that Athrun Zala did not spill the beans on the Isle's operations. While Eileen Canaver could not sit on the jury as the other heads of the superpowers and Scandinavia could not, she could still choose who to be part of the jury, and she'd chosen Yzak Joule.

He cast his eye to the spectators rather than listening carefully to the defence's slipshod cross-examination of yet another terrorist. Yzak spotted who he was looking for and prayed that his last attempt to reverse the flow of events would be successful. If it wasn't, Yzak knew exactly what would happen.

Yzak knew how it would be written in history if his attempt to save Athrun Zala failed—the people who spoke out and named Athrun Zala as Greyfriars would be classified under classic cases of fanaticism and not exposed as a clever conspiracy a Zaft intelligencer had been caught within. After all, Athrun Zala's father had inspired that a long time ago, and it would be poetic for the media to write that the son had followed his father's muddied footsteps.

"Witness number thirty-one, do you accept the charges of bomb-planting and deliberate murder of the second cousin, Erik Strumsson, to the Swedish royal family?"

"Yes. I'm not sorry though. Denmark, everything was for Denmark."

"When you captured the Princess, did the Denmark terrorists harm her?"

"No. We created the diversion. Everything was completed by Rune Estragon. He had the easy task, didn't he? He had his own submarine. Merely got the Princess to go with him."

"How?" The prosecutor questioned.

"Don't know how he did it. But he said she was injured when we wanted to take custody of her. Said she got shot in the chest and would have to recuperate."

Titters rose in the court. It was clear that Athrun looked as though he had botched his own job with Zaft. The mutters from the spectators increased in volume and intensity.

"Call the next witness." The judge looked frazzled.

"Yes, your Honour."

The next man took the stand.

"Name, age and occupation."

"Thor McKendrick. Thirty-seven. Engineer. I retired twelve years ago."

"Why so, Mr. McKendrick?"

"For misuse of company funds. But I was forced to- I didn't have the money to win acquittal of my children otherwise, and the Swedish authorities didn't allow a Denmark citizen to speak to his children if he didn't win the acquittal-,"

"Keep to the facts please." Minrofherf tapped his fingers on his arms impatiently. "Mr. McKendrick, can you tell this court how you came to know the accused, Mr. Zala?"

"He called himself Greyfriars." McKendrick nodded almost absent-mindedly to himself. "I met him while leading a few others in a protest against the unfair laws prohibiting the Danish from exercising their independence as citizens of Denmark rather than Scandinavia. Athrun Zala appeared during this time and offered to fund the Danish Nationalist Faction. He came out with the plans to kidnap the Orb Princess. He also came out with plans to manufacture weapons and biochemical drugs for the faction's purposes."

Yzak felt his mood worsening.

The next man, Yeltrel Borris, supported the already solid claims. The same few questions, the same few crimes. Even the gasps were absent now. Everything had been established, particularly with Kira's testimony. Crime after crime, atrocity after atrocity-- hearing the same atrocities numbed people. Athrun understood that.

"Other than the above crimes your comrades have admitted to," The prosecutor asserted, "You are accused of planting a bomb in a Swedish School eight months ago, on the twelfth of May."

"I did not." Borris said fiercely. But he started giggling and his general appearance suggested that he had long gone insane. The court was silent as he continued to rock back and forth on his feet, and the prosecutor looked distinctively uncomfortable dealing with someone who was either mad or a very good actor.

"The prosecution has established that the Denmark Terrorists group has been capable of planting bombs for world attention to be focused on Scandinavia."

"I did not." Borris repeated. He began to sing a little song to himself- Humpty Dumpty, in fact.

"Your Honour," The defense attorney said swiftly, trying to save his case. "Just because this man, along with so many others, have planted bombs before, it does not mean that he was guilty of this particular crime."

"I did not kill my son." Borris said suddenly, agony in his voice, and there was a hush in the courtoom. It was then that Athrun wondered why the most maddening grief could make a madman sound almost sane. "It was Harraldsson who did."

"What do you mean?" The defense attorney said. There was a mantle of silence that had fallen over the courtroom. "Borris, what do you mean when you say that Pietre Harraldsson, High King of Scandinavia, killed your son."

"My so was enrolled in that school. He was killed in that bomb blast along with a few other children my comrades had in that school. None of us planted that bomb there in the school."

Yzak held his breath. Perhaps this man would release a key that Athrun could use.

"Was Rune Estragon dealing directly with Greyfriars?" The prosecutor asked.

"Yes. They functioned separately though. Greyfriars was always doing whatever Estragon told him to do. He even agreed to let Estragon hold the Princess in his own quarters. Estragon convinced him that it was for the best."

"How so?"

"Not sure. We were told that she got injured during her kidnap."

"If Greyfriars planned this, why didn't he take custody of the Princess right after she had recovered."

"Estragon said she hadn't fully recovered. Complications with the lungs, he said."

"Could you have clarified that?"

"I don't know about that. But Estragon had a huge say in what we did."

"Was he one of your family?"

"Yes, very much so. He was not really Greyfriars though."

The legal clerks seemed to pick up pace again. The prosecutor had paled.

"You seem to think differently from number thirty one." The prosecutor said slowly. "Are you suggesting that Mr. Zala, that is, Mr. Estragon, is not Greyfriars?"

"He's just a bit loony. Don't bother with him." Borris began to laugh brokenly.

"Do you mean, Mr. Borris," The judge boomed, "That your comrade were lying while put on the stand? Or are you lying here?"

"I never said he was the same person." Borris was twiddling his thumbs together. "Greyfriars is a lot uglier than he-," He jabbed a finger at Athrun, who sat there silently. "A lot less cunning too."

The courtroom broke out into chatter. There was unease everywhere and the prosecutor looked lost for a second. Even the jury and the judge seemed unable to pick up their thoughts from this sudden jolt to what they thought they'd established.

But then Borris threw back his head and began laughing insanely. He did not stop, and his cackles rang out into the courtroom even as he tugged at his hair and his eyes rolled back in his head like a man possessed. He screamed and cried and the courtroom fell silent.

Minrofherf was the first to recover.

"Objection! Your Honour, the prosecution rests its case. Most of these terrorists have no clear sanity. This man cannot be trusted with his history of substance abuse and manic depression! Hallucination is very common in this case!"

"Objection sustained. Send for the next accused."

Borris was dragged away, screaming that he hadn't finished. But the court was focused on the next.

The prosecution did not waste a second in turning to the judge. "Your Honour, I humbly request that this witness be taken off the stand. He seems unfit to give an accurate testimony in his current mental state."

"Approved."

How ironic it was, Yzak noted, that a madman could tell the truth where the sane were capable of lying.

"Who suggested kidnapping Cagalli Yula Atha?" The prosecutor asked the next accused-cum-witness."

"I can't remember."

"Objection! " The prosecution's voice was triumphant. "The prosecution has just heard, one minute ago, that the accused was one of Greyfriar's trusted men!"

A very ugly scowl from the terrorist broke out over his face. "Fine! Greyfriars told me what we had to do to get the world to notice us. He told us that we had to get someone really important into Scandinavia. Then he told us that we would have to work things up by keeping the Orb Princess there."

"How did the Orb Princess land up at the Swedish Palace?" The prosecution had taken over the questioning and the judge seemed unwilling to push the defense to take the ball back into the defense's court.

"Don't know." The terrorist claimed. "He always had custody of her."

Yzak knew the jury was mumbling amongst themselves. His own colleagues were whispering that all the pieces fit together-- Plant had admitted that Cagalli Yula Atha had been in his custody and even the terrorists were claiming that. Athrun Zala was headed for the worst now.

"Did Greyfriars operate alone then?" The judge interjected.

"Greyfriars had no peer. He was a brilliant man. He was the leader, the motivator, the visionary- I tell you he had no comparison where we where concerned, he convinced me that my family would be happy in heaven to see us working together like this for Denmark's' sake."

"Who is your leader then?"

The terrorist had no hesitation. The others had already established the pattern for answering. "Athrun Zala. He went by the name of Rune Estragon at that time."

Nobody was surprised by now. Yzak could almost swear that the front row of people in the courtroom looked almost bored. Even the clerks were taking down the questioning at a far less frantic pace than when the first witness had pointed to Athrun.

"Send for the next witness." The judge said stonily.

"Yes, your Honour."

The man was dragged away, practically howling about how Greyfriars had been the next Messiah and the man who would create a new world for them. The jury seemed to look even more accusingly at Athrun. Yzak knew exactly how they were looking at him.

They were looking at him as if Athrun was his father.

* * *

In the holding room, Cagalli sat tensely, watching as Marlin re-checked his files and the authorities he was going to rely on. He was muttering something to himself while he sipped some coffee, and he seemed to be entirely at ease. If it had been anything less than a courtroom, Cagalli was positively sure that he would have been humming the latest, most popular radio tunes.

The thought of his confidence and what he was about to do sent tremors in her. She felt faint and almost transparent, but Marlin was in his element now. In his suit, his presence seemed to grow enormous and significant.

And yet, they would not enter until some time later. The bailiff had just informed them that Athrun Zala's questioning would be extended- apparently there had been some new testimony regarding something.

As Marlin had predicted, those being questioned now were the small fry. The terrorists had long confessed to their crimes while in the remand centre, and that was why the attention was only on Athrun Zala now. In fact, the court and the world outside it were really waiting for the key suspect once the context had been established. And as Marlin had predicted, the terrorists who'd become witnesses had established it quite quickly.

She shifted fitfully, thinking of what Marlin had briefed her on. In the pale tan blouse and a slightly too large dark navy skirt-suit that Marlin had picked out for her, Cagalli was ready to face the court. Her hair was neat and combed into place and her face appeared to be without colour, vigour and not a dab of anything that might have added some life into it—as was Marlin's plan.

She looked feminine but washed-out; young but passive and wan, complete but hollow. She looked steady but slightly displaced in her slightly too large clothes, willing to answer but unable to give what had been hidden from her in the first place. Basically, she looked like somebody that had fought but eventually been broken and someone who'd been manipulated at some point.

The truth was that Marlin had brought in a rather good acquaintance with dozens of make-up kits, skilled hands and a name that Cagalli had forgotten already. Nevetherless, the acquaintance had agreed to help Marlin and had created an image whereby Cagalli looked traumatized, weak, heartachingly young and disorientated. They'd brought in shoes without much of any elevation for her, and she was highly aware of how vulnerable and tiny her frame was when she stood next to Marlin.

Truth be told, Cagalli had always known that Marlin used the trick of appearances to aplomb. She had heard of him for winning this nearly impossible case. Early years into his first career, Marlin had defended a particularly tall man who'd killed a smaller, much weaker person. But he had won back then, bringing in a make-up artist to create a face that made one think of shifty, mentally-unsound patients along with the illusion that the man was mad and had killed because of his confusion.

Of course, the defendant had been slightly schizophrenic, but Marlin had magnified it to the point that an acquittal had been an obvious thing. Still, to find herself being one of these people whose appearance would tilt the balance in their favor was something Cagalli felt very ill at ease with.

After all, Cagalli realized, Athrun was being judged on his appearance too, and there was no way he could deflect blame the way Marlin was helping her shift hers.

She watched her legal counsel drink his coffee and she decided she had to speak up.

"Marlin," Cagalli said in a small voice, "Should I really keep insisting that I was misled? Harraldsson did try to kill me, you know."

"Cagalli," He said soothingly. "We've gone over this already. A court will be more sympathetic to you if you say that you were misled. Proving that Harraldsson wanted to kill you will be difficult even with that injury you had. What you have to do is to prove that you were there for a good reason, even if it turned out to be a mistake, and that you did not shoot him. You don't have any witnesses to show that he tried to kill you, so using self-defense as a reason for shooting him is not a good idea. In fact, the cordiality and welcoming mood he set by letting you into the palace easily suggests that he never wanted to kill you the way you claim to me."

"Alright." She said shakily. "So I won't say that Harraldsson tried to kill me."

"Exactly." Marlin confirmed. "Your winning point is that you had no choice but to follow what Athrun Zala told you when he put you on the yacht. Another thing is that it would be quite probable for anyone to be misled if they'd been in your position."

"But I wasn't misled at all, Marlin. I wasn't misled into thinking that Harraldsson was behind my kidnap. I didn't go to Sweden for that."

"Just stay calm. You've given testimony in court before- just relax." He patted her on the shoulder, talking past her.

Her eyes snapped back to him and Cagalli demanded, "How did you know that I've given testimony in court before?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Marlin asked in return. He looked at her defiantly without understanding why he even had to feel like he had done something wrong. "Aaron mentioned that you'd been involved in a case before. The one involving a planned assassination during your birthday."

She shrank back, her pupils dilating and the voices of the past tearing at her now. "Why did you look at those cases?"

"And that's not the only thing I found. I found the court records of Athrun Zala's preliminary trial in Orb— the case regarding the Orb Prime Minister's death in which he was a suspect. I passed that onto the main investigation team."

She clutched at the arm of the chair, feeling sick. "You-,"

"You were a witness who proved that the Seiran couple couldn't be the criminals, weren't you? He was a suspect. It makes it quite persuasive that he misled you into believing that Kira was at the Swedish palace and in trouble. Also, there was the incident in which you shot your assasins in self-defense and at close range." Marlin looked at her grimly. "I found a great deal of persuasive evidence from the past cases."

He recalled what Aaron had told him about Cagalli's inability to shoot at close range, and he reminded himself not to mention anything of this to Cagalli. He could not have her rearing like a frightened horse before the court entrance at any minute now. Marlin wanted to win, and it wasn't merely for his pride but for what he believed to be Cagalli's sake.

She looked still and deathly white, and Marlin tried to steady her. He knew she was upset about his knowing about her traumatic period, but he also suspected that she was concerned about Kira, who would be questioned next.

"Kira's mostly safe." Marlin assured her, thinking that she was worried about Kira. "As it is, you've given what Kira needed to prove his innocence. That's good enough. Besides, you've already given your testimony that you have never told him of the seal's details, which is very useful for him."

"But what about the letters?" Cagalli demanded. "Nobody's asked me if I wrote those!" Her mind was in a whirl and she thought of what she had written in those. Marlin had not asked her if she had written those, for he and the rest of the court seemed to have assumed that she would have never written anything while she had been in Athrun Zala's custody. "The fact that Kira produced those and showed those to the Orb Parliament and got them to support his decisions will still cast suspicion on him!"

"But why bother writing letters if nobody would ever believe they were from you?" Marlin pointed out. "The only thing that Kira needs to prove his innocence is that he didn't know there was a seal prior to the letter and he didn't know that the details were. As it is, the defense has done a pretty good job of establishing that if he'd known there was a seal, he wouldn't have waited for so long to fake letters and get support from your government. He's safe, so don't worry."

The implications of what that meant for Athrun Zala rang in the air. Yet, she could not find a direct way of voicing her concerns, and she found herself hiding once more.

"Marlin," Cagalli said softly, "If the court doesn't think I wrote those letters-,"

"Well, they obviously think that Athrun Zala did." Marlin told her. "He was an intelligencer after all."

She gazed at him, unable to tell him the truth about those letters and how she had convinced Athrun to send those for her. "If they think he wrote the letters-"

"That suggests he had a personal interest in the relationship between Orb and the rest of the world," Marlin told her. "A vendetta of sorts. He will most certainly be questioned about his past involvement with the Orb Prime Minister's murder." He paused, his eyes questioning her. "But don't you think he wrote those letters?"

"No." She said angrily. "He can't possibly have a grudge against Orb!"

Marlin mistook her outcry for disbelief. "Sure, he does. Orb was the one who threw him out, remember? By the time you give your testimony, it will be obvious that Athrun Zala misused his authority and planned for international crimes. It'll become even more obvious that he was the one who shot the High King, not you. After all, shooting Harraldsson would be congruent with his actions so far."

"But what about Kira?" Cagalli whispered, trying to find a way to indicate that she did not want to speak out against Athrun. Yet, she couldn't do it without telling Marlin everything, and Cagalli was ashamed to find herself hesitating. For now, the best she could do was to use Kira's name to shield Athrun. "He grew up with Athrun Zala. Surely, what you're planning to do--,"

Marlin frowned, and then shrugged. "I understand that he was very close to Athrun Zala in the past, as he admits in his testimony. But that's not the same now. I don't think Kira would blame me for shifting suspicion to Athrun."

"I don't think Kira would approve of what you're doing." Cagalli said. Her voice didn't sound like hers. "Whether I get acquitted or not."

Marlin shook his head. "I think we've discussed this before when you were in the hospital. Weren't you listening to me before this, Cagalli? Kira will have to admit that he and Athrun Zala were very good friends in the past. That will surely open him up to being painted as someone who was manipulated by Athrun Zala! And there's the fact that he reasonably believed the letters were from you. That's why you're being called in sooner than expected-- because Kira claimed that he thought you wrote those letters and gave him a reason to follow the directions enclosed in them." Marlin tapped his chin distractedly. "I wonder who wrote those though."

"Even if Kira could exonerate himself entirely, Kira wouldn't do it by shifting blame onto anybody else!" She side-stepped the issue of who had really produced the letters.

"Look, don't worry so much about a past friendship your brother shared with him." Marin interjected, starting to look a little impatient. "I'm on your side, just you remember that."

"Well, you shouldn't be allowed to defend me," Cagalli retorted, looking up at him. "You're the Prime minister of Britannia—not some lawyer for hire."

He looked at her coolly. "I was always aware of that even before you. But I'm in a position where I can defend you as your lawyer, because I resigned a week ago."

"What?' She cried, leaping up from her chair. "Marlin, you can't! You are craz-,"

He smiled ruefully, adjusting his tie a bit uncomfortably. "Just let me do this for you, Cagalli."

"No! I can't let you throw your position aside so you can go on some crazy mission to defend me! I can defend myself, I don't need-,"

"Please." He said heavily. "We don't have much time left before it is your turn to testify."

She looked at Marlin, wondering if she was obliged to follow, wondering if she was doing him and her a disservice by arguing now.

"Cagalli," Marlin said soberly, trying to disregard his own doubts as to what Cagalli had assured him of before, "You don't have to be frightened of anything. Not anymore."

He took her hand in his. "Just trust me." He looked at her hands, not really understanding the implication of what he saw. But he smiled a little, probably supposing that she was reconfirming the image they were portraying to the media. "It's a little less flashy than what I would normally give, but good thinking there."

She looked at her hand, small and closed in his warmer and surer one, and she felt her shoulders tremble a little. And she looked up at his steady, kind face, not sure what to say about her involvement with Athrun Zala and the past cases or the fact that he had found out about that. And she swallowed her protests, too weak and too uncertain to fight.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kira was continuing to face cross-examination. In his suit, he felt as if he had been stripped of something and been forced to crawl into a skin that was an ill representation of what he meant to express. His hands were cold, although he forced himself to look the questioner in the eye. Any hesitation would be used against him.

Sitting where she was, Lacus knew he could not quite see her at his angle. It was better that way, she supposed. Keeping her head down for most part, she watched as he was sworn in and brought to the stand. A sense of dread filled her as Kira faced the judge and jury. His eyes were focused but that quiet, mildness about him seemed misplaced in the court.

"If it pleases the court," The defense was saying, "Mr. Yamato cannot be guilty of criminal conspiracy with Athrun Zala when it is yet to be proven that Mr. Zala wrote letters that instigated Mr. Yamato to act as he did. Even if Mr. Zala can be found to have written those letters, Mr. Yamato could not have planned to produce those letters or to use them to his benefit as he had no contact with Mr. Zala for nearly seven years. Any letters he received were so carefully made to look like they were from Ms. Atha that Mr. Yamato could do not ignore their instructions."

"You may proceed with cross-examination." The judge stated.

"Mr. Yamato," Minrofherf asked, "Did it cross your mind that someone else could have written those letters?"

"Yes. "

Here, in the somber air, Kira seemed almost uncooperative and taciturn. The lack of a forthcoming nature made him seem unfriendly or even suspicious and she knew that the jury doubted him without him even speaking.

The prosecutor asked his questions and Lacus watched, clenching her hands as her husband looked at the questioner. If Kira was perfectly at ease with his machines and the tinkering he did in the small garage that served as a makeshift office at home, he was in the wrong place now. He was a person who could go for hours without speaking, and Lacus prayed that he would be fine here. She thought of what he'd confessed to doing that day when Cagalli had been found, and she had to grip her hands together to keep from trembling.

"Who did you believe sent those letters, even after considering the possibility that someone other than your sister could have written it?"

For what it mattered, Kira's voice was steady as he answered the prosecution. "I believed that the letters found in my possession were sent by the Orb Princess. I had every reason to trust those as being from her."

"That is a very interesting thing to say, Mr. Yamato," The prosecutor said with a mocking voice. "Would you normally trust any letter with detailed advice that arrived mysteriously without address, sender or a way of finding out where it had come from?"

Kira kept silent as a titter ran through the courtroom.

"Your Honour," The prosecution shot out, making use of the reaction of the jury and spectators, "The prosecution submits that the current witness was in cahoots with Athrun Zala, the primary suspect of the international crime. Together, they are responsible for withholding Cagalli Yula Atha's right to freedom and holding her captive against her will. Together, Kira Yamato and Athrun Zala prevented her from returning to Orb after she had recovered from her injury."

"Objection!" The defense for Kira was on his feet. "That is for the jury and judge to decide. At this point, the prosecution has done nothing except show that Mr. Yamato received some letters that he had to consider very carefully."

"Objection sustained. Continue, defense."

"Thank you, Your Honour. The defense also submits that the prosecution has inaccurately painted these circumstances as seemingly trite and hypothetical ones." The defense paced a little. "But in truth, the actual content of these letters was substantive and persuasive, regardless of their dubious origin."

Kira looked at the cold hard face of the prosecution and wondered how anybody could have stood in this box for so long. Certainly, the members of the Danish Nationalist Faction had, and so had Athrun. Athrun in particular, must have been grilled and hung out to dry for more than once, even when it hadn't been his turn for questioning.

"In his situation and with his overwhelming concern for his long-lost sibling," The defense continued, "Mr. Yamato had no choice but to take heed to the letters. Mr. Yamato had no way of disregarding letters that seemed to be from the Orb Princess. Moreover, he could not have written these as fake instructions because these would have not served any clear purpose for him."

"Objection!" The prosecutor was on his feet again. "Your Honour, the defense and the rest of this court needs to understand that the letters had a great deal of implication on the events leading to the grievous injury of Pietre Harraldsson. Arguably, the disgraceful clash between parties of a diplomatic agreement could be attributed to the very existence of these three letters. If Kira Yamato had not received and followed what he claimed the letters—particularly the third letter-- had led him to do, he would not have misdirected the Orb troops to Sweden. For that matter," The prosecutor's lip curled. "The first and second letter suggested that the Orb Princess was alive. Undoubtedly, Mr. Yamato would not have been able to persuade the Orb Parliament to let him be the Orb Proxy for as long as he did."

"Prosecution," The judge decided, "As salient as your points are, I think we need to proceed with the questioning to determine which set of facts are more likely where the current accused is concerned."

Within the jury, Yzak's jaw tightened. Kira did not see him, for Kira was already answering the next question. Lacus however, noted the unease her colleague showed, and she felt a sense of incongruity as she looked from him to her husband.

"Mr. Yamato, did you do anything to check the authenticity of the letters?" The prosecutor demanded.

"Yes." Kira felt his throat going dry. "I thought those must have been from Cagalli. Those were written in the Orb Princess' handwriting."

"Surely," Minrofherf said with a trace of a smirk, "You must have realized that handwriting can be forged." He gestured to one Plant Intelligencer who had given his testimony hours ago as. "It's not difficult to do."

Kira fought back his protest and swallowed. "I suspected that. But it seemed unlikely that the letters were forged even then."

Kira breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself.

"Mr. Yamato, you said that the content had information that was private between the Orb Princess and yourself." The prosecutor said. "What information was this, exactly?"

Kira hesitated again. He could not bear to think of how the letters may not have been really written by Cagalli. Unconsciously, his eyes flew to the far end of the courtroom where Athrun Zala sat, for Kira had been preoccupied with what Cagalli had come so close to telling him.

And in that moment, Kira realized what he had done and tried to anchor his eyes back onto the questioner. But that tiny, distracting gesture was all too significant and it had certainly been picked up on already.

Getting a little flustered, Kira repeated, "The content is private."

Those in the court began to mutter amongst themselves behind their palms. Lacus felt fear grip at her.

"Your Honour," The prosecutor said boldly, "Please make Mr. Yamato answer the question."

"I'm afraid you cannot use the confidentiality between you and your twin as an excuse in the court," The judge cut in, addressing Kira with a frown. "You will tell the court what the content was."

"Thank you, Your Honour." The prosecutor turned back to Kira, a small smirk on his face. "Well, Mr. Yamato?"

"The letters were well-wishes to my wife and child." Kira said after a pause. He was aware that the people around Lacus were probably staring hard at her, as did every other person in the courtroom. "Well-wishes and the reassurance that my sister was safe."

This was true, Lacus knew. The letters had been confiscated and all there had been were relatively innocuous messages, whether those had come from Cagalli or not. But all the same, the simple messages would have been persuasive to those who read them that Cagalli, if she had written them at that time, had been safe and alive. Surely, as the jury was suspecting, that would have made the Orb Parliament far more willing to keep Kira Yamato as a Proxy rather than holding an election right away, since the letters suggested that Cagalli was still alive.

The defense spoke up. "Moreover, the letter contained allusions to events that only Mr. Yamato and Ms. Atha had knowledge of. These include the first time Mr. Yamato and Ms Atha had met during the First War and how they had realized that they were siblings."

As it was, the jury began muttering amongst themselves, but Minrofherf stepped forward, his eyes glinting. "Your Honour, the prosecution submits that Mr. Yamato is certainly not lying where the content is concerned, but the issue remains as to whether it was really that harmless. At the same time, it seems perplexing that someone of his stature and intelligence could have believed that it came from Cagalli Yula Atha-- if it did at all. The letters definitely contained personal information and past experiences between Mr. Yamato and Ms. Atha. But surely, someone else would have known of these experiences or shared in them. The very examples that the defense has drawn out suggests that these were celebrated occasions that others would have known of, Mr. Yamato. Do you have a response to that?"

Every pair of eyes in the courtroom was drawn to Athrun. Kira did not know where to look. Throughout this, Athrun did not look anywhere above his feet or knees, and Kira was glad for that.

"I suppose others would have shared in those experience," Kira said quietly. "Or known of those. Those weren't exclusively mine and Cagalli's."

"Ms. Atha wrote, if she did at all, that she hoped you would forgive her for her mistakes in the past. In this letter," The prosecution produced the second letter that Kira had received, "The person who wrote this letter addressed you as her dearest twin, and she mentioned the name of your mother while inquiring over the health of your child. These two pieces of information are highly confidential and possibly controversial because Ms. Atha has long been declared the birth daughter of Uzumi Nara Atha. There is also the siblings' mother's name in the second letter, which suggests the person who wrote these letters must have known the two quite well."

"Objection!" The defense cut in. "I see no point to this line of questioning, Your Honour. Establishing that the information is confidential will not prove that Mr. Yamato used this to further malicious or unlawful purposes of writing letters and pretending that those were from Ms. Atha."

"No, Your Honour," The prosecutor countered. "That was not my intention. None of us are here in this court to find blame—we are here to find the truth." His lip curled as the jury nodded amongst themselves.

Kira felt his stomach churn at how the rhetoric was buying over the people present. Instinctively, he knew that Minrofherf was not interesting in convicting him. Minorfherf was far more interested with a more prominent target.

"Rather," Minrofherf continued, "I wanted to highlight the fact that Mr. Yamato and Ms. Atha's relation was not privy to the media. This information was only declared after Ms. Atha had disappeared and Mr. Yamato was brought in and declared her twin. And even then, those who heard Mr. Yamato's declaration were the Orb Parliament members who then came under a legal duty not to disclose that information. It is unlikely that this sensitive information would be spread around or even spoken of unless the person who included this fact in the letters wanted to convince you that it was from Cagalli Yula Atha. But this opens up a vista of possibilities as to the letter's sender and writer. At the same time, there is reference to your mother's name, and this was not told to any parliament member even when you declared you were related to Ms. Atha. Were there others who knew that you and Ms. Atha were twins and your mother's name even before she went missing?"

Kira paused, seeing the trap that the defense attorney had not seen. "I admit that there is more than one person who knew that we were related and who our mother was—even before I admitted my relationship with Cagalli Yula Atha for the purposes of stepping in as the Orb Proxy."

"One who is still alive anyway," Minrofherf concluded impatiently. "I think Lord Uzumi Nara Atha is not in question at this point. But there are others who had the information and could have used it to convince you that the letter was from Ms. Atha. Do you have a response to that, Mr. Yamato?"

"There were plenty of others." Kira said softly. "Many of our friends knew we were related after the First War."

"What about your mother's name? Surely, amongst this group of people, very few knew of your mother's name?"

"I'm not sure." Kira told him.

The evasiveness of his answer was quite obvious. Kira knew that the prosecutor and jury were not looking at him but right at Athrun. Kira was very aware what the prosecutor was thinking. He knew what the prosecutor was going to do, although he did not know how the prosecutor was going to do this. The prosecutor was going to try to link Kira to Athrun's supposed crimes, and even if it failed to do so, Kira's trust in the letters would be linked to Athrun's involvement in those. In any case, Kira had no choice but to continue.

"Well, Mr. Yamato," The prosecutor questioned, "Surely, there wouldn't be so many as you claim, even if it was more than one person. Can you tell the court when you found out that Ms. Atha was your twin and that your mother was the same one?"

He stumbled. "The First War."

The prosecutor smiled. Kira looked at him helplessly, unable to stop what was coming next. "Mr. Yamato, am I correct to say that Athrun Zala was your close friend during the First and Second War?

Kira knew what was happening, but he had no choice. The witnesses were ready to state how close they had been, and Kira had no choice but to admit this anyway. "Yes. We met in the war and fought together."

"More than that," Minrofherf led on, "Did you know Mr. Zala before the war?"

Kira swallowed, knowing that there was no way of proving otherwise. No memoirs of their childhood had been taken in as evidence. "No."

"Nevertheless, during the First War," The prosecutor carried on, "Am I correct to say that you met Ms. Atha and by extension, Mr. Zala met her?"

Lacus bowed her head. That information had been extracted from her. Their home in the Plants had been searched by order of the Galactic Court, and some old photographs had been found. She had no option except to agree that the four of them had been friends during the First and even the Second War.

"Yes." Kira had to agree.

"During the First War," The prosecution asked, "Did Mr. Zala find out that Ms. Atha and you were related to the point that he might have written that letter?"

He thought of how Cagalli had held Athrun's hand and showed Kira the photograph of Via Hibiki. In Athrun's presence, Cagalli had told Kira who they really were and who their mother was. Surely, Via Hibiki's name was a piece of information that few knew of. Caridad and Haruma did, but they had nothing to do with this case. Lacus did, but she had been cleared of any charges and any suspicion—her maternal leave had given her the alibi she needed for most part. That left very few people who could have written the letters.

As conflicted as he was, Kira was not sure if Athrun or Cagalli had written the letter. The court was slowly but surely becoming quite convinced that Athrun had written those letters to influence Kira into acting the way he had and storming into the Swedish palace.

With what Cagalli had told him about her relationship with Athrun however, Kira was sure that there was more to it.

Kira looked distinctively uncomfortable as he lied. "I don't think so. I didn't tell him that we were related or our mother's name."

This was half-true. It had been Cagalli who'd done that.

"But Mr. Zala worked as Ms. Atha's bodyguard after the First War," The prosecutor pressed. There were murmurs everywhere and the judge had to bang his gavel. "Your Honour, I think this is an important fact that needs to be considered in what Mr. Yamato is claiming about the nature of the letters. Mr. Ledonir Kisaka, the then-guardian of Ms. Atha, testified that Mr. Zala worked for her, although it is still unclear as to whether she kept in contact with him. As I understand, Ms. Atha had at least twenty bodyguards at any one time, and they were regularly rotated on different shifts. But the fact remains that Ms. Atha knew Mr. Zala through her brother, and Mr. Zala may have well found out that she and Mr. Yamato were related, along with what their mother's name was."

"Objection!" The defense called out. "Mr. Yamato has already stated that he did not tell Mr. Zala of the information that was used in the letters to suggest it was from Ms. Atha. Moreover, there is other evidence suggesting Ms. Atha wrote the letters."

"There was a seal that accompanied all the letters." Kira spoke up. Kira knew that he was in a dangerous zone, but he had not been able to help himself. "Only Cagalli Yula Atha could have known what this seal was."

The jury began speaking amongst themselves, their voices increasing with the mutters of the court.

"The defense would like to submit that Ms. Atha can confirm whether she wrote those letters or not." The defense added on nervously. It was clear he wanted to get Kira off the stand as soon as possible. "At this point, I would like to resubmit that Mr. Yamato did not tell anyone of the seal's details until the seal appeared on the first letter that Mr. Yamato received from an unknown sender."

"I'm afraid Mr. Yamato can still enlighten the court on the events leading up to the scuffle, Your Honour." The prosecutor was really just waiting for a chance for Kira to slip up. "As well as what was in the letters. Please let us continue with the questioning before we proceed to confirm these claims with Ms. Atha."

The jury seemed to agree more with the prosecution, for they were nodding and regarding Kira Yamato quite suspiciously. The judge nodded his approval to the prosecution, and the proceedings continued.

Thus, Kira had no choice but to explain. "There is a seal for every Head of Orb. It is personalized and nobody except the Head and the seal's maker knows of its details."

"Then how would you know it belonged to her?" Someone in the jury from the Earth Alliance section demanded.

"I was told so by the seal-maker." Kira replied.

"He has given his testimony," The defense supported, taking out an affidavit. "There is no evidence suggesting that Mr. Yamato could have possibly forged the seal. And as Ms. Atha's testimony currently goes," The defense added hastily, not really sensing what the prosecution was after, "Ms. Atha did not inform Mr. Yamato of this seal or its details. Mr. Yamato could not have written those letters."

"The prosecution rests its case." Minrofherf looked diffidently at Athrun and not Kira. "For now."

Suddenly, Kira knew that the prosecutor had never been going for him. He had only given that impression so that Kira would seem to be yet another person manipulated by Athrun Zala. Minrofherf was going for the kill, and that meant he was targeting only Athrun Zala. The rest would be incidental victories to the main one.

The prosecutor turned back to the jury, finally producing his trump card. "But Your Honour, I think Mr. Yamato's innocence suggests another key to the truth. Clearly, the person who wrote these letters must have known Mr. Yamato and Ms. Atha very intimately and must have been aware of the seal and its details. While Mr. Zala was only one of the many bodyguards engaged for Ms. Atha's protection, I think the jury would find it quite possible for Mr. Zala to gain access to this information eventually. For that matter, Mr. Zala could have well found out that she had a personal seal."

Haplessly, Kira looked at the faces of the jury. Each member seemed to be growing more and more doubtful or Athrun, even as they seemed less suspicious of Kira.

And thus, the other questions were equally subtle but just as pointed. Kira got through those without much difficulty, and various witnesses were called in to certify that Kira had never done anything less than a good job as the Orb Proxy. He would have little trouble from there on, Kira realized, because he had already been used by the prosecution to cast more doubt on Athrun Zala.

Throughout this, Kira wondered if he was wrong for suspecting Athrun. But the frail-looking figure in the chair seemed to be the same person that Kira was beginning to remember- an insecure, quietly desperate, unhappy person who fought his own hell every day. And suddenly, Kira was even less sure than before.

Kira stood, listening to the proceedings continue, answering now and then, feeling something in him break down as he noticed his wife's face within the swell and surging of all the others. The questioning continued even when Kira wished he could go to her and take her in his arms. Although the prosecutor called in others to question, Kira was led back to his seat and not to Lacus. He would not be able to go to her until later.

He sat, watching in a daze as people testified and drew the reactions that cemented already existing suspicions of Athrun Zala. He wasn't even aware that it was coming to an end—not even when the recess call sounded.

"Court will be adjourned for half an hour. Recess ends at three-fifteen."

The judge and jury rose, as did the spectators. They all waited for the judge and jury to leave, then the bailiffs lead the various suspects and witnesses out of the courtroom with Athrun amongst them. As Athrun passed Kira, Kira stared at him and saw that Athrun's expression was unfocused. Athrun's eyes did not even move towards Kira.

Then the rest of the spectators were allowed their turn to leave.

As people milled out of the courtroom, talking loudly amongst themselves and heading for the restrooms, Kira saw Lacus sitting still, pale and quiet. She was dressed in sober colours, as were all the other spectators who had been allowed into this particular courtroom. Her bright-coloured hair didn't even seem to put colour into her face anymore, and she seemed to have become greyer from watching the trial. He understood her pain—her husband's acquittal only meant her friend's conviction. His heart ached for her as he stumbled past people who were walking in the opposite direction, and Kira tried to make his way to her.

He rarely found her crying even when they'd had terrible rows at times and he'd never seen her weep if she could help it, but Lacus had tears streaming down her face today.

* * *

In a room that was reserved for the Plant jury representatives, Yzak was answering a call. Unfortunately, the other two representatives had left and he could not speak without feeling slightly cautious and self-conscious.

As he spoke to Ezalia in the most measured tones he could find, it struck Yzak that his whole life had been lead in a way where he could not reveal too much about himself. His personal opinions were not to be spoken of—only his official decisions. Even his private life had to be kept away from most people, and it made sense that most of his job dealt with intelligence. He was sure that Shiho blamed him for that to a greater or lesser extent, for she had looked at him wistfully this morning as he had left for the courtroom. They hadn't said a single word to each other last night, afraid that he would reveal more than he could, and afraid that she would learn what she could not. Even with Shiho, he had to be silent about many things.

"Hello," He said brusquely.

"Yzak," His mother said with great authority, matching his tone with her own. "I want you to come back as soon as you can. And you should get a present too."

"What?" He muttered, trying to keep his shock and confusion reined in. Normally, he would have exploded at Ezalia's high-handed, almost senseless order.

But he was aware that his colleagues were looking over with great interest at him, and he turned his back away. They did not get the message, for they were still under the impression that he was answering an official call, and so they continued sitting where they were, drinking their coffee in copious amounts. They had a long day in front of them.

"I'm in the courtroom now," He said as evenly as he could. "The trial's not over yet. It may go on for quite long."

"I know." Ezalia said with a touch of impatience. He could almost imagine her tapping her nails against the wood of her work table. "But you're not helping Athrun Zala by being there. You could be in plenty of other places and the outcome would still be the same."

His colleagues, unaware that he was speaking to his mother and trying his best to hide it, continued staring at him.

"I'm just doing my job," He nearly spat. Had she sensed what he was about to do?

"I know you are." Ezalia said in a calm, almost mocking voice. "You're being a nice little stooge. You know, Yzak, even on the worst of days, I stood up for what I believed in."

"Even if it involved Patr-," He remembered his colleagues were in the room and cut himself off just in time.

"That's right." She said with delicious satisfaction. "Even if I used to believe in genocide at that time. The point is that I stuck to my guns, even if they turned out to be pointed right at me."

"So what do you want me to do?" He snapped.

"Use your backbone."

"What if I think he's guilty?" His colleagues looked a bit affronted at the tone they reckoned he had adopted with a superior who had called up, and they seemed to become even more interested with what Yzak was saying, picking up that Yzak and the caller were talking about Athrun Zala.

"That's for you to decide," She said coolly. "I don't really care what your decision is as long as you make it for yourself."

"I will." He said coldly. "I don't need you to tell me to do that."

"Yzak-," Her voice was warning.

Thankfully, one colleague whispered to the other about going to the restroom, and the other made a reluctant sound and turned to Yzak, signaling that they were heading off for a bit. The one who was urgent made a funny face at him and pointed south.

Yzak fought back a response that would have probably expressed, "And why the hell did you expect me to care?" He also fought back the urge to say, "Do we look like the three little pigs who must always be together? Or do I look like the kindergarten teacher who must give permission before you can go to the toilet?" and nodded curtly.

He waited until the two colleagues had left, then spoke normally. "Look, I don't think he's guilty of anything except foolishness."

"Of course." Ezalia agreed. "I've said it before. He's more like his mother than his father. I knew it when I saw him."

He checked his watch, fighting back his pain. "It's almost time for me to get back there."

"Yzak," His mother said pointedly, quite ignoring what he'd just said, "Come home as quickly as you can."

"Don't be ridiculous, mother," He told her. "This trial could take months for all we know."

"Come home as quickly as you can." She repeated in a steely voice. "That's why I called."

"To tell me to come home even though I can't?" Yzak snorted.

"She said her first word today."

He paused. "What?"

"I said," Ezalia told him impatiently, "Petra said her first word today."

"Oh." He fought back his surprise and growing jubilation. "Is that right?"

"Of course I'm right." Ezalia didn't miss a beat, unlike his heart, which had skipped a few. "Get her a present after the trial finishes."

"You know nothing else will be on my mind. Besides, she's got at least ten rattlers." Yzak told Ezalia. "I doubt another one will be of any use."

"Then start investing in dolls or something else." Ezalia countered him firmly. "I don't care how you do it—I don't care if the trial only ends next year. You get her a present before you come home, because she's earned it. I'll have her speaking in perfect sentences before you and Shiho know it. " Her voice seemed to sparkle with energy and pleasure. "And you'll reward her for it."

"For Pete's sake, Mother," He said exasperatedly, "I don't want her becoming a brat-,"

"It's inevitable, you know. You were one, and she will be one. You will be, won't you, Petra?" Ezalia made a cooing sound, and there was gurgling in the background and a child's happy laughter. Yzak found himself softening and smiling, listening to those background sounds, and he was highly grateful for his colleagues' absence.

"I have to get back now." Yzak found himself reluctant to return.

"Alright." She cut off the line without delay, as was her style.

Yzak sighed to himself, the last of his happier thoughts fading away as he got up, downing the last of his coffee. Then he set down the cup and began straightening his jacket, taking more effort than he realized he needed to temper his emotions.

And yet, he thought of the diminished, even subdued figure with his hands in chains, and he thought of Cagalli Yula Atha's pleading eyes and her desperation. With a great deal of turmoil in his heart, his feet led him forward and he moved in the direction of the courtroom.

* * *

As Athrun stood to answer questions, he knew that he had become numb enough not to care how the spectators' eyes were boring at him.

"Mr. Zala, the records show that you applied for an Orb citizenship a month after the Second War ended." Minrofherf pointed out. "You did not obtain it because of some complications in a case where you were suspected of murdering the former Orb Prime Minister. You were repatriated for that, and you were necessarily forced to go back to the Plants. What happened there?"

"I was cleared of charges for lack of evidence." Athrun held his head high.

"Your Honour," The defense interjected, "The case Mr. Zala was implicated in has been closed for a long time. The Seiran couple died before Mr. Zala could be exonerated, but the evidence suggests that they were behind the murder. The case Mr. Zala was mixed up in is not relevant here because he was not convicted of murder."

"But the very fact that he was not convicted makes it relevant, Your Honour," Minrofherf said quickly. "The question remains as to why Mr. Zala did not return to Orb if the news of his exoneration came eventually."

"Continue, prosecution." The judge said.

"Thank you, Your Honour." The prosecutor turned to Athrun. "Why did you not return to Orb? Surely the news of the Seirans' suicide would have reached you?"

"I was offered a job with Zaft by then." Athrun said quietly. "There was no point chasing a past job and a citizenship in Orb." Of course, the fact was that if Athrun had returned to Orb, he would have not gotten back his old job or a stab at a citizenship. "I moved to Scandinavia, so it didn't seem likely that I could hold onto the family businesses."

"Mr. Zala," Minrofherf asked, "Did you ever work as Cagalli Yula Atha's bodyguard?"

"Yes." He could not evade that.

"Mr. Ledonir Kisaka has also stated that you were particularly close to Kira Yamato. The photographs from his house suggest you were on good terms with his wife and Ms. Atha. Mr. Ledonir Kisaka has also admitted that the four of you were on good enough terms for you to confide in each other."

"Good enough for certain things, yes." Athrun confirmed. He sensed where this was going.

"Mr. Zala, did you know that Ms. Atha had a seal?"

He took a deep breath. "Yes."

* * *

During the recess, Marlin had moved out of the holding room. Cagalli however, had felt unable to move there and to see people who were waiting for her to stumble. She had sat for half an hour in the holding room, trying to drink from a still-full cup.

But Marlin had just received news of how Kira's testimony had gone, and he came in to the room. He closed the door securely, suggesting that court had commenced some rooms away. Then he turned to Cagalli, nodding briskly. "Kira's been cleared of the charge of conspiracy."

She felt some relief passing into her.

"The jury unanimously decided that there was no way Kira could have contacted Athrun Zala." Marlin informed her, smiling a little. "The other Eyes have provided testimony for that. They testified that they trained in a base that had no way of being penetrated by outside communication, and this was confirmed by Yzak Joule. So even if Athrun Zala was contacting Kira Yamato, Kira Yamato could not have planned anything with a person he couldn't respond to. The issue has shifted to those letters, because the court now believes, the letters were unlikely to have come from you."

Cagalli's expression dissolved into panic, for she understood the implications of that belief. "Wait—so they really think Athrun Zala wrote those?"

"Yes." Marlin paced a little. "Of course, someone else could have written those. Someone who knew what your mother's name was and someone who knew that both of you were twins. That someone also had to know a seal existed and its details."

"There are quite a few people who know that," Cagalli objected. She looked at him. "Like you."

"I didn't know you had a seal." He pointed out. "And the people who knew you had a seal didn't know your mother's name. Amongst the people who knew a seal existed, nobody knew the details of it. That so many things have to be fulfilled makes the number of people who could have written the letter a very small number."

"That doesn't mean it's Athrun Zala." Cagalli pointed out.

"As it is, there's probably only Athrun Zala who might have known of these three things." Marlin looked directly at her. "Also, one of his colleagues provided a testimony stating that he had recreated the seal, so that's definitely against him."

She felt her pulse quicken.

"So that's why you were so certain that he wrote the letter." Cagalli said quietly. She looked dully at Marlin. "I didn't know one of the Eyes gave that testimony."

"It's almost decisive," Marlin told her. "But it won't be brought out until much later. The prosecution wants to prove that Athrun Zala committed international treason by knowingly causing Orb and Scandinavia to go into conflict."

She nodded, understanding that.

"To do that, the prosecution must prove that Athrun Zala directed Kira Yamato into bringing the Orb troops into full-blown conflict before the dateline passed. Entering before the dateline would make the Orb troops entry into Scandinavia an unlawful one, which is what eventually happened."

"But isn't his recreation of the seal decisive evidence?" Cagalli demanded. It did not make sense to her why the prosecution was playing with its prey. "Why doesn't the prosecution raise that evidence? Why are they waiting to convict him when they can?"

Marlin shrugged. "Maybe the prosecution still has to find a way to reconcile the fact that only the last letter had a detrimental effect on Orb and Scandinavia's relations. The third caused Kira Yamato to bring troops into Orb, but the other two had no instructions in the first place—just reassurances that you were safe. It's incongruent, and if the prosecution brings up this evidence now, the defense may claim that it is likely that people other than Athrun Zala wrote those letters, which is what the prosecution definitely doesn't want."

The air in the holding room smelt of sanitizer, and it unnerved her. The chairs were hard backed and it was soundproof to prevent any possible leak of information that the court did not want. Even the curtains were made of a certain material that was sound-resistant. She felt trapped in this room, even if he was being kind to her. And as she looked at him and saw her reflection in his eyes, she knew that she'd trapped herself.

"Marlin," Cagalli said quietly. "What if the defense is correct in claiming that Athrun Zala didn't write all those letters?"

"Unlikely," Marlin assured her. "The defense isn't that good, but I'm sure he'll eventually realize that he could argue that the first two letters were used to assure Kira that they were from you, and that the last one was really the main thrust of sending letters at all." He shrugged. "That's what I would have argued, anyway."

Marlin was so clever, Cagalli thought. She thought of what Marlin was planning to do with regard to the charge that she and Athrun were facing, and a shudder passed through her. Cagalli found that she had to breathe in to keep herself steady, and she turned away in case Marlin saw how pale she really was.

But she was spared, for a knock sounded on the door and the bailiff opened it.

"It's your turn now." The bailiff announced, popping his head in. He was young with strawberry blonde hair and a puppy-like excitement. He grinned bashfully at Cagalli, not sensing the nausea that rose in her as she tried to stand properly. "Don't worry, Your Grace- I'm sure Athrun Zala will be convicted in less than an hour's time. Nobody will cast any doubt on your innocence."

* * *

When Cagalli Yula Atha stepped into the courtroom, those present rose. Of course, they rose as a matter of protocol when the judge entered, but they rose mostly to look at Cagalli Yula Atha who was brought in, if only to get a better look at the limp, almost tiny figure that was overwhelmed by those staring at her and the size of the courtroom.

Athrun found his eyes trained on her from where he sat, far away from her, at the other side of the courtroom. She looked pale and wan, and she seemed to have lost a significant amount of the power and confidence that the world had once associated with her and Orb. Her arm was still in a sling, and he felt pain in his chest and had to look away from her injury.

Cagalli did not look in his direction, but seemed to be avoiding it. As the charge of the murder of Harraldsson was read out against her, she seemed not to hear it at all. With her, James Marlin was standing, dressed sharply as her defense attorney. There were murmurs in the courtroom again, for everybody knew that he was her fiancé and doubling up as a defense attorney. It was advantageous for Cagalli, Athrun tried to tell himself, because Marlin had been a reputable lawyer even before entering politics. Even Minrofherf looked slightly edgy as he cast his eyes on Marlin. Marlin would not be so easy to trump as the previous, court-appointed defense attorney.

Nonetheless, Athrun's thoughts rang hollow as he looked at the both of them.

For when Athrun watched as Cagalli looked at Marlin, he saw how Marlin smiled at her. Her eyes were on Marlin's face, and Athrun knew that she trusted him. Marlin could bring her out of this mess, but Athrun could not. Marlin had rightful claim of her, but not Athrun.

In that moment, Athrun's heart swelled with bitterness and jealousy.

"If it pleases the court," Marlin began, "I am James Marlin and I will be representing Ms. Cagalli Yula Atha to defend her against the charge of murder. Your Honour, I will require your permission to highlight certain crucial facts in Ms. Atha's situation before she gives her testimony."

"With all due respect to my learned opponent, I'm afraid I cannot agree to that, Your Honour," Minrofherf cut in. Clearly, he could sense what Marlin was trying to do. "One's state of mind that one kills with can only be considered in the defence, that is, after the offence has been proven. The jury should look at the charges against Cagalli Yula Atha and not the nature of her kidnapping six months ago. This cross-examination, Your Honour, should focus entirely on the charges."

The murmurs started again and Marlin smiled winsomely.

"Your Honour," Marlin insisted, "It is a salient point that Ms. Atha's condition is established before we look at her testimony. Her emotional state will tell us exactly why she landed up in that chaotic situation." He carefully hid what she might or might not have done while at the Swedish palace.

The jury muttered amongst themselves, and the judge nodded.

"Proceed, Defense."

"Your Honour and respectable members of the jury," Marlin began, turning to the twelve seated there, "Ms. Atha has suffered a great deal of trauma since her capture." Their eyes were drawn to her, where she sat quietly, and Athrun could almost see the sympathy pour from the jury and spectators. "But even before that, Ms. Atha had gone through some very terrifying experiences involving physical attacks. It is in this light that I beg this court to consider her state of mind when she appeared at the Swedish Winter palace. That is all, Your Honour."

"Ms. Atha," The judge asked in an almost kindly voice, "I hope you are prepared to testify to this court."

Already, her appearance was creating the necessary impact that Marlin was probably aiming for. His opening address had prepared the stage he had wanted.

"Yes, Your Honor." Her voice was very steady, and the court began muttering again. The judge banged his gavel irritably as she was sworn in.

The prosecution turned to face Cagalli, and her eyes snapped up to meet the questioner's. At the same time, there was no strength in her face, even if there was a determination that seemed to emanate from hopelessness itself.

"Ms. Atha," the prosecutor asked, "Have you met Pietre Harraldsson before?"

"Yes," Her voice trembled a little but she kept most of it steady. "We met when I was aboard the SS Rafael on an invitation that the royal family had extended to me. But I didn't get a chance to speak to him very much. That night--," She trailed off, shuddering a little, and Athrun saw many look at her with great sympathy.

"Ms. Atha," Minrofherf said carefully, "Did you know where you were being held after being taken from the SS Rafael?"

"No." Her expression did not change. "I was unconscious before I woke up and found myself in a new place."

"Do you know how you were injured, Ms. Atha?"

She paused, and Athrun pulse quickened. She said softly, "I think I was caught in crossfire—I don't quite remember, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps the defendant is a little confused still," the judge said slowly. "The terrorists claimed that you were on the deck at the time when the other guests were facing the attack."

"No Your Honour," Marlin cut in quickly. "Ms. Atha is quite clear in where she was at that time. Perhaps she was on her way to the deck in hopes of escaping when she was shot." "

"Yes," Cagalli said. She did this with enough conviction to smooth over the little jolt in her testimony. "I think that is it. But I was shot. When I woke up, I was told that I was to be held in custody for my safety. But I certainly did not know where. I was drowsy for most of the time—I think it was part of the medication."

"Ms. Atha," Minrofherf said, "It may have been kept from you at that time, but I think you should know by now that a Plant Intelligencer by the name of Athrun Zala, alias Rune Estragon, was asked to take you to safety. He and his aides, who went by the aliases of Epstein Cleamont, Cartesia and Laplacia Daemon, took care of you. For security purposes, I suppose he could not tell you where you were being kept in custody, but he was your main caregiver."

"Yes." Cagalli said steadily. "I do not blame Plant or Zaft for that. I thank them for their care and efforts towards my safety." She took in a deep breath. "I am no doctor and I do not know how serious my injury was, but I took more than a few months to recover. I believe that I was held there for that time, where I received constant and detailed medical attention from what must have been Zaft surgeons. I thank Plant and Zaft for this too."

The Plant section of the jury muttered approvingly at her apparent graciousness, and Athrun saw Marlin smile a little to himself.

"But even after you recovered, Ms. Atha," Minrofherf said insistently, keen not to let her get favour with the jury, "How did you enter the Winter Palace on the nineteenth of September?"

She took a deep breath, and the court seemed to be at the edge of their seats.

"I got into a yacht that departed from the place that I had been held at for six months."

"Ms. Atha," Minrofherf stated, "This vessel that you mention has been found and confiscated in Swedish waters, but there is no sign of a struggle that you escaped or that anyone was on board; other than you. Nor is there any indication that it is a Zaft-owned vessel. Did you enter the vessel by choice or were you forced into it?"

"I entered it by my own choice." Cagalli said quietly. Marlin was frowning, but Cagalli continued. Athrun knew it was likely that she was saying something that Marlin thought was detrimental to her position.

"Where did you find it?" Minrofherf seized the opportunity. "For a well-guarded military base, it seems strange that a civilian-looking yacht could be lying around."

"I was probably being sent back to Orb that day, although I was too confused to realize this." Cagalli spoke. "I was unconscious for most part because I was sleeping. I think I was on a shuttle then. I woke up and found myself at sea—on a ship, perhaps. There was a yacht nearby; a yacht that I managed to get onto by extending a bridge from the ship I was on. I wanted to try and get back to Orb even in my daze."

"I see," The prosecutor paced a little, obviously thinking hard. "Ms. Atha, there is indeed a yacht that was found at Swedish waters—an unnamed one that appears to not be a Zaft vessel. But the ship that you woke up in was a Zaft vessel, am I correct?"

"I am not sure." She said firmly. "I did not really know where I was and I panicked and got onto the first yacht I could get onto."

Athrun watched as she covered up the events of what had really happened. He could sense what she was trying to do, and he bit his lips, hoping that nobody would expose her lies. It would discredit the rest of what she had to say, and there was really no reason as to why she was risking so much for him at this point. He felt worry bubble up in him, and he had to keep his eyes focused on his feet to keep in control.

"Ms. Atha," The prosecutor carried on, "Have you ever piloted a yacht before?"

"It's not difficult." She said quietly. "When one is desperate enough, one finds a way." She looked wistfully at all of them. "Although I should have just stayed on the ship I was on."

The Orb representatives and others were murmuring admiringly at her pluckiness. Athrun though, thought of how he'd taught Cagalli to defend herself and how to pilot, and his heart sank at the mistrust she must have felt towards him. Part of him wished that she'd just focus on saving herself rather than trying to cover up for his role in the spate of events.

"Well then, Ms. Atha," Minrofherf was clearly not used to dealing with a defendant that was so well-loved by others—one who appeared to be as righteous and civilized as the jury members themselves. "May I confirm that you wanted to return to Orb?"

She paused, giving a glance to Marlin that Athrun caught. But it happened so quickly that she seemed to not have halted at all. "Yes."

A look of intense frustration crossed into Marlin's face, and Athrun knew why immediately. Cagalli was trying to cover up for what Athrun had led her to do. She was trying to take the blame on herself—which Marlin had probably not expected her to do.

"But you ended up in Sweden," Minrofherf said very quietly. His eyes were fixed firmly on Cagalli and he seemed to become more and more still. "You wanted to go back to Orb, and you knew how to pilot and to direct the yacht. And yet you ended up in Sweden, with a knife and a gun on your personage. Moreover, Your Honour and the respectable members of the jury," He paced and pointed to Cagalli, "The yacht shows clear signs that it was headed towards Orb's direction but someone had changed its direction towards Sweden."

The silence in the court was a strange one. Everybody was staring at Cagalli.

"Your Honour," Marlin told them, covering up for what Cagalli had just said, "I think the vessel that she was on is not an important point. The point is that she would have never wanted to go to Sweden if not for what she believed at that time. Ms. Atha was in a confused state throughout the whole journey, and her being there was a matter of bad luck and bad timing."

"Objection, Your Honour," Minrofherf spoke up, "I think that has yet to be decided. Where Ms. Atha intended to go after getting onto a yacht is of utmost importance."

"Continue, prosecution."

"Ms. Atha," Minroferf asked, "Did you want to go to Orb or Sweden?"

She was trapped, Athrun could see. By trying to shift away his role in the matter, she had caused problems for herself. He watched Cagalli lift her eyes, her voice trembling a little. "I wanted to go to Orb, but I think I misdirected the yacht to Sweden."

"Your Honour," Marlin spoke up hastily, "I think Ms. Atha has misunderstood the question's nuances. She was confused at the time of being on the yacht, for she was on medication as she has just said so herself. And it is quite possible that she did not know exactly what direction she was heading in. After all, she did not know where she was moving from in the first place."

"But Your Honour," Minrofherf cut in, "By that logic, she could have ended up at any place. For starters, how did she get a gun and knife?"

"My client found it on the yacht," Marlin interjected. "Wouldn't you agree, members of the jury, that one would usually take something for protection in a foreign place?"

The jury murmured its approval. Athrun watched Yzak's eyes narrow.

"Objection, Your Honour." Minrofherf called. "The prosecution submits that Ms. Atha had always planned to go to Sweden. She made use of the confusion at the docks at that time and slipped past all the red tape. It was a calculated decision. More than that, Your Honour, and respectable members of the jury, Ms. Atha's presence in Sweden had long been planned. Despite its unknown sender and writer, Your Honour, this third letter that Mr. Yamato received suggests that Ms. Atha had been planning to go to Sweden on that day itself."

Marlin looked rather disconcerted, and Athrun was quite sure that Marlin had planned for Cagalli to admit right away that she had wanted to go to Sweden instead of Orb.

"Sustained."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Minrofherf turned to Cagalli, and Athrun saw her lips tighten. "Did you write the letter in question, Ms. Atha?"

She looked at the prosecutor firmly. "No."

Athrun did not know whether to feel relieved or not. It was true that she had not written the third letter, but the prosecutor did not seem to catch the half-truth behind what she was saying. As it was, everybody present assumed that there had been only one person writing the letters to Kira.

"Then how, Ms. Atha," Minrofherf asked, "Would you have tried to get to Sweden?"

"I told you already." She said sharply. "I tried to steer the yacht to Orb."

"Hold it, Ms. Atha." The prosecutor shook his head. "The evidence of how you changed the course of the yacht suggests you knowingly set sail in direction of Sweden."

The jury watched as something changed in her face. Her expression became closed and tight, and she said quietly, "Alright then. I thought I needed to seek help from Pietre Harraldsson and to understand the condition back in Orb before I went back there."

She conveniently left out what Athrun had let her believe—that Kira had been in Sweden and was in danger. But Athrun wondered if her covering up for him was something that would inconvenience her greatly at some point. If this went on, Athrun realized, it was going to be difficult for her to get out of the mess unscathed.

"Ms. Atha, what kind of help did you need?"

She faltered. "I don't really know. I suppose I just wanted Harraldsson to explain what had really happened that night on the SS Rafael. He had been present then, so I thought he would help me."

"Your Honour and respectable members of the jury," Minrofherf said, "I doubt that Ms. Atha would have made such a journey and used such great effort for that mere bit of information. She had an ulterior motive that involved harming the High King."

"Objection!" Marlin called. "There is no proof of such a motive."

"Your Honour," Minrofherf countered, "There is such proof. Ms. Atha was under Athrun Zala's custody for six months. He was a member of Zaft then, and she may have well gotten the idea that Zaft could not let her return to Orb or Scandinavia because someone in Scandinavia had been behind the attack all along."

"Your Honour," Marlin said sharply, "That suspicion is a reasonable one for anybody with half a brain-," He paused as the Scandinavian members of the jury and spectators muttered angrily amongst themselves, "But it is not enough for anybody to want to attack Pietre Harraldsson! Besides, Ms. Atha was aware that the SS Rafael had been severely damaged that night—why would she suspect Pietre Harraldsson in the way that the prosecution claims?"

"But Your Honour and respectable members of the jury," the prosecutor stated, "Ms. Atha, made it a point to find the Swedish palace from where she got off the yacht." The prosecutor spoke up. "Even if we assume that it was pure luck that she steered yourself to Swedish waters, the palace is quite some distance away from the docks. I submit, Your Honour, that Ms. Atha had always intended to get to the palace, at very least."

"But why would I not go to a place where I could get help?" Cagalli said quietly. Her presence was so powerful and yet so gravely calm that Athrun wondered if she really needed anybody to defend her at all. There was steel in her eyes as she turned to the jury. "I lied about wanting to go to Sweden because I was afraid to admit that I sought help outside my country at all. But isn't it natural for a person to find a place where help is?"

Athrun looked at the jury and saw them nodding and talking amongst themselves. The other spectators were doing likewise. Their sympathy for this frail but apparently courageous woman was increasing, and Athrun knew that she was playing her cards right; drawing on the fact that she was of the weaker sex. Marlin was looking at Cagalli with great admiration, and Athrun realized that Cagalli was more than prepared for anyone here in this court.

"But Ms. Atha," Minrofherf said, a touch of anger entering his voice as he saw how Cagalli was making use of the jury, "Even if this court believes that your intentions for getting to the palace were innocent ones, how would that explain your entering the palace?"

"I showed my face to the palace guards, and I think they recognized me. They let me in immediately, as if they'd been expecting me." Cagalli stated.

"Did you meet Harraldsson eventually?" Minrofherf asked carefully.

"Yes." Cagalli said. "The guards willingly led me to him. I was admitted in, and Harraldsson twisted my arm. I lost consciousness and when I woke up, I had sustained an arm injury and side injuries and was in a hospital."

"Objection!" Minrofherf barked. "The thirty or so guards claim with these testimonies-," He held up a sheaf of papers, "That you forced your way in! You had the intention of hurting Harraldsson from the time you entered the palace ad perhaps even before that, and the evidence lies in the nature of your entry into the palace."

Athrun's head jerked up. Were the guards lying like the terrorists too? He felt unease well up in him and prayed for her to be fine. He didn't care, he decided, that she'd be with another person and that she would be apart from him. As long as she could live in peace, he didn't mind facing the charges and losing everything he had left. He cast a glance to the end of the room, where other witnesses sat. Amongst them, Epstein was sitting, his head bowed.

"With all due respect to my client, the learned prosecution and judge, could a mere woman accomplish that?" Marlin forced a laugh into his voice. Her appearance, Athrun noted, suggested not. It seemed more likely that she had sustained the injury rather than caused it.

Minrofherf was silent for once, and Marlin seized the opportunity to continue. "Beyond that, Your Honour, Ms. Atha sustained injuries to her arm and her side. She couldn't have shot him point blank with that kind of injury."

"Harraldsson caused me this injury, Your Honour," Cagalli spoke now, and everybody turned to her. "When I entered the room, he twisted my arm and he broke it. We scuffled for a while behind the closed doors, and then I lost consciousness from the pain of the injury."

"Perhaps he did it in confusion?" One of the Scandinavian representatives asked uneasily. "The High King was a very gentle boy—a young man with great responsibility for his sister and a person who had suffered great grief over his father and brother-in-law's death. I know he was depressed over his father's death and suffered from nightmares alot—your sudden appearance may have confused him."

Cagalli frowned, beginning to say something. Athrun's heart leapt, but Marlin and Minrofherf cut in at the same time.

"Perhaps it was in confusion," Marlin was beginning to say. "As the respectable member of the jury has said, perhaps there was a tussle because of the panicky state both the High King and Ms. Atha were in."

But Minrofherf had already called out an objection.

"I'm afraid the defense has no proof that Harraldsson caused Ms. Atha her arm and side injuries," Minrofherf said loudly. "Even if she did sustain those and was found unconscious in that state."

"There was a fruit knife found in the room, with Ms. Atha's blood on it." Marlin pointed out. "It had Pietre Harraldsson's fingerprints on it."

"If Ms. Atha was unconscious at any point, as she claims," Minrofherf countered, "Anybody could have used the knife on her. It would not necessarily have to be Harraldsson, even if his prints were found on the knife. Surely, he would have used it in the past—he may not have used it on her."

Marlin kept silent. This was true.

As Athrun looked at Cagalli, he saw she looked frustrated and that she was biting her lips. He knew her well enough to release the significance of this tiny action. Surely, Athrun realized, she wanted to say that Harraldsson had caused her more than injuries and had threatened something else. But that would put her in a suspicious light as it would give her a motive to harm Harraldsson. She was trapped, Athrun could see. There was no way except to argue that Harraldsson had tried to kill her.

"Where then, would her arm and side injuries be sustained from?" Minrofherf eyes glittered as he focused on Cagalli. "I think the defendant's injuries are the keys to proving the reliability of the royal guards' testimony—that she attacked some of them and that they defended themselves. As the guards claim, Ms. Atha was not allowed in. She seized one person and used him as a hostage to get him to bring her to Pietre Harraldsson."

"Objection! Your Honour!These are unsubstatinated, wild claims!"

"Not sustained. There is some very persuasive evidence."

"Thank you, Your Hnour," Minrofherf said smugly. "As earlier established, Cagalli Yula Atha is capable of combat like this. At that time, she had no injuries, as she herself stated. Perhaps she was a little groggy, but she had recovered from her injuries that she sustained on the SS Rafael. The prosecution submits that she coerced the guards into letting her meet Harraldsson, where she entered his room and shot him point blank, before he had any way to respond."

"Hold it." Marlin interjected. "That premise is reasonable only if you ignore the fact that she had a gun with six bullets and little else. Her fists would not have lasted her through fifty guards before reaching the hall where another thirty personal bodyguards awaited her. She claims to have been allowed in, and this seems more reasonable, considering the fact that she is not harmed, not injured, and the bullets in her gun amounted to five out of six intact. Surely one bullet couldn't have cleared the way with fifty guards blocking it?"

"Your Honour," Minrofherf countered, "There is a witness who claimed that she used her gun to hold another him hostage."

The mutters in the courtroom increased and the buzzing sound did not die until seconds after the judge banged his gavel.

"Your Honour," Marlin said soberly, "I will need to question the relevant witnesses about the nature and purportedly murderous intent that the defendant had before the prosecution can proceed with his claims."

"Proceed with questioning of the witness with regard to Ms. Atha's entry and time of sustained injury, defense."

"Yes, Your Honour." Marlin turned to the witness stand.

Those present watched in absolute silence as a guard stood up.

"State your name, age, occupation."

"Donn Fermstrang. Twenty-eight. The third regiment, bodyguard to the High King of Scandinavia."

He was beefy and huge; the kind that seemed to be bursting from his suit, and Athrun could not help noticing how tiny and weak Cagalli seemed next to him. While Athrun was quite sure that Cagalli did not usually seem so delicate or meek, he was sure that it was working to her advantage. Already, the jury was muttering amongst itself and pointing at the contrast.

Minrofherf seemed to realize this, for he said quickly, "Witness, you claim that she put a gun to your head and demanded to be brought to Pietre Harraldsson."

"Yes." The guard said. His voice was deep and scratchy, and Athrun thought that it was a voice that suited his rough face. "That's her alright. She had a gun and a knife. She put it to my head and the others decided to let her in. She kept saying that she wanted to see the High King. Someone lunged at her and pulled her to the ground, and a few tried to arrest her, but she fought like an animal. One of us broke her arm--," He pointed to Cagalli's arm. "But she managed to get up. She put a gun to my head." The guard looked almost sad for a second. "And we got scared. Using me as a hostage, she forced us forward."

"Objection." Marlin spoke. "How could she shoot if she had suffered that arm injury?"

"It wasn't her right arm that got injured," Minrofherf countered. He pointed at Cagalli's left arm in a sling. "One can still shoot with a right arm that is intact."

Cagalli's expression had changed. It was no longer controlled, but pale and angry. Athrun saw it and knew immediately that the guard was lying. But it was not her time to speak yet. As it was, Marlin did not seem to take issue with what the guard was saying, and Athrun realized that Marlin did not believe that Harraldsson had attacked Cagalli.

"So she managed to use you as a hostage while holding you're the gun to your head with her right arm, and then you brought her to Harraldsson's quarters?" Minrofherf prompted.

"Yes. She managed to stab one guard pretty bad during the scuffle before that, and he was screaming really loudly. The other guards couldn't do anything—they were afraid that she would blow out my brains."

"And you didn't try to warn your employer?" Marlin interjected.

"We couldn't." The guard said embarrassedly. "He was awake at that time, but I was a hostage, so the others were too scared to shoot her. She told us to retreat and to move away from the stairs that we'd all climbed when we were right outside Harraldssons' quarters. We were too frightened to do anything, so we obeyed. We had to wait at the foot of the stairs."

The guard scratched his head almost comically. "Then at the base of the stairs, we heard a scream and a gunshot. But before we could get upstairs, we were distracted by the Danish Nationalist Faction, which had attacked the palace. Then in the midst of the fight, there was a smoke bomb that went off somewhere. By the time we understood what was going on, the fighting had ceased and we were being seized by Orb troops and we were told that Pietre Harraldsson was dead."

"The evidence at hand suggests this is the case," Minrofherf said smoothly. "The fingerprints on the gun that was found to have discharged a bullet belongs to the defendant. Moreover, the distance the bullet entered Harraldsons' chest at is approximately at the door where she must have stood. After all, she has admitted that she met him. He was shot at point-blank, which was when the guards heard the gunshot. That would also account for why she had five out of six bullets in her gun intact."

"Your Honour," Marlin butted in. "I would like to clarify something with the witness." He waited for the judge to nod and then turned to the guard. "When your colleague was stabbed, as you claim, where was he stabbed?"

The guard paused for quite long. "I'm pretty sure it was at the base of the staircase."

"And that was where he screamed, I suppose. Did any reinforcement come? Anybody else at all?"

"No." The guard looked almost awkward. "All of us were guarding the ground floor. But I was held hostage and I guess the others didn't think it was safe to shoot her from there."

"Alright," Marlin said cautiously. "And where were all the guards when you heard the gunshot come from your employer's room?'

"At the base of the staircase. It was pretty loud. We had just made our way down, as she ordered us to."

"Hold it!" Marlin thundered. He turned to the jury. "If there had really been a guard whom my client had stabbed to threaten the other guards, Pietre Harraldsson would have heard the scream and not to mention the scuffle from where he was in his room. If one can hear a scream from inside the room, why not the person inside the room when the scream and other sounds come from downstairs? Harraldsson wouldn't have stayed there after the scream that the stabbed guard supposedly made. A normal person wouldn't have waited for Ms. Atha to make her way up in the fashion that this witness claims."

The courtroom burst into chatter. Athrun felt his heart rejoice for Cagalli, but it was slightly tempered by the fact that it was Marlin, her fiancé, who had made the guard look unreliable. The jury was looking at Marlin and Cagalli with less doubt than ever, and Athrun wondered if they would ever look at him in that favourable manner.

The judge banged his gavel and Minrofherf leapt in. "Your Honour, I don't think it is as simple as the defense has painted it. It could well be that Harraldsson was sound asleep."

"No, I think not," Marlin interrupted. He turned to the court-stenographer. "Read out the relevant part, please. I think it is the first line."

"_He was awake at that time, but I was a hostage, so the others were too scared to shoot_-,"

"Thank you," Marlin stopped the reading. "Harraldsson was awake at that time."

"He could have been too frightened to go down." The guard pointed out. "That's why he has guards, right?"

"Guards who apparently lead an armed assailant to his doorstep," Marlin said nastily. "Your Honour, I think sufficient doubt has been raised as to this witness's testimony. There is little evidence to suggest that Ms. Atha forced her way into the palace with the intent of harming Harraldsson."

"Send for the next witness," The judge decided. The jury was also looking disapprovingly at the witness, who had one huge inconsistency that they simply could not ignore.

Minrofherf turned an ugly puce at the first defeat he'd seen in so many hours and so many days of questioning. "Yes, Your Honour."

* * *

The next one claimed that he had been at an angle where he had seen Cagalli shoot the High King. There was no way, the guard claimed, that Harraldsson could have twisted and broken her arm; not when she had shot him upon his opening the door.

As he gave his testimony, Athrun kept his eyes on Cagalli. She seemed to be losing her focus, for she was shaking her head at points and looking at Marlin in bewilderment. The guards must have known that Athrun and his aides had forced their way up the staircase in the midst of the fighting. But the guards were choosing to blame Cagalli instead, which suggested that they were intent on painting her as the murderer.

Athrun understood her confusion as to why the guards would be lying so blatantly. But he knew the real reason as to why the guards were lying against her. Harraldsson had probably planned this in many ways—even though he probably hadn't planned for himself to land up in his current state.

But Marlin began to question the current witness, and Athrun knew that matter how much Athrun yearned to hold her for himself, she would still be in safe hands.

"Name, age, occupation."

"Freud Jeschler, forty-two, First Regiment, chief bodyguard of the Swedish Royal Palace."

"Mr. Jeschler, were you present to see Ms. Atha shoot your employer?"

The witness said, "From my angle, I could see that she had shot him. But I couldn't do anything to stop it because at that point, the terrorists had rushed in."

"I don't quite understand you," Marlin said testily, ignoring Minrofherf's dark glare. "What you mean, I understand, is that you were present in such a way to see that she knocked on the door. You were also present in such a way that you could see how Harraldsson opened it. Were you present in such a way to see that she shot him immediately?"

"That's what I saw, yes." Jeschler nodded.

"And this was visible only if you stood at the right corner of the tenth pillar on the ground floor, as you say?"

"Yes." The guard looked defiantly at Marlin. "I saw her shoot him myself."

"Your Honour," Minrofherf concluded, "Mr. Jeschler's testimony fits all the evidence that the others have provided. The prosecution submits that Mr. Jeschler has given very conclusive, persuasive evidence."

The jury seemed quite swayed by what the current witness had provided. Athrun too, could not see a clear way for any contradiction to be found. It was true that Harraldsson had fallen forward, his front part of the shirt stained from where the bullet had entered his chest, point-blank. It was true that Cagalli had stood with her back to the door—at least, that had been the case when Athrun had entered. His hands still bound, he prayed that Marlin would find a way forward.

How strange it was, Athrun considered, that he was praying for the success of somebody who he somehow despised at the same time. In reality though, Athrun was aware that he did not have any right to despise Marlin. Marlin was the one who was risking many things for Cagalli too, and Marlin was her fiancé. Athrun had been the one who'd stolen her from him, and if Marlin was going to win her back now, Athrun could have no reasonable objection to that.

Marlin was pacing, thinking things through and obviously trying to find some way to knock the testimony out of the way.

"Well?" Minrofherf prompted. He sneered at Marlin. Marlin halted, right in front of the witness.

"Are you feeling alright, Mr. Jeschler?" Marlin suddenly suggested without a hint of guile.

The whole courtroom was stunned at this sudden swerve in topic. Already, the prosecutor was leaping to his feet, ready to shout an objection, but the bodyguard had taken the bait, hook, and sinker. "I'm fine."

"I understand that you've been serving for quite some time," Marlin said innocently.

The guard sensed something, but found no way not to answer. "Yes. Twenty years, I think."

"Your back must have taken quite a bit of strain over the years," Marlin mused.

"Well, yes." The witness shifted, looking a bit surprised.

"So do you go for checkups?"

"Your Honour!" Minrofherf was on his feet. "The defense is wasting our time. Clearly-,"

"No, Your Honour," Marlin interrupted. "I'm sorry, but this is a very important line of questioning. I would like your Honour's permission to continue and the witness' cooperation."

The jury cast curious glances at Marlin, as did the rest of those present.

"Alright, defense." The judge decided.

"Do you go for checkups?" Marlin continued.

The witness nodded.

"Often?"

The witness nodded again. "It acts up a lot."

Marlin broke out into a charming grin. Athrun was just as confused as everyone else, and clearly, from the look on Cagalli's face, none of them understood what Marlin was doing.

"Defense," The judge said warningly, "You seem to be wasting our time."

"I apologise, Your Honour," Marlin said cheerfully. "I just wanted to prove one point."

"And what is that, if there is any at all?" The judge asked.

"One of the disadvantages of having many witnesses, is that some of them are not really witnesses at all. This man was only fit to work just two weeks ago, according to these hospital records when he went for a back operation. He was given a recuperating order and was told not to work by the doctor—one that was to last for two months. He may have seen whatever he claims to have seen, but Mr. Jeschler certainly was not _present_ to see what he did."

"What?" The chief bodyguard looked horrified.

"The hospital you were recuperating at claims you never left the premises that day. The nurse you were with can be brought in to verify this, if you'd like." He waved a sheaf of testimonies.

The bodyguard turned pale. "What? N-No, I don't-,"

"Your Honour!" Minrofherf choked out. "According to the rules of evidence, one cannot admit evidence that has not been approved of!"

"I agree," The judge said heavily. "Defense, you will be charged accordingly after this trial. The courtroom is not your circus."

The jury began speaking out simultaneously, each of them enraged at the lies that the bodyguard had concocted, the rest of the spectators talked amongst themselves quite loudly.

"Thank you, Your Honour," Marlin said cheekily. "I apologise, Your Honour."

It did not matter, Athrun realized, when he had already achieved his purpose. Marlin might have simply gone knocked this key witness out from the very start, but Marlin must have waited for maximum damage to be done to the prosecutor's key witness.

Athrun watched Cagalli smile for Marlin, and he saw Marlin return it. If Cagalli's smile had been soft and golden, Marlin's was confident and charismatic. How clever Marlin was, Athrun realized. No wonder Cagalli loved him.

The judge grimaced. "Call the next witness."

* * *

It went on for another hour. The eighth witnesse avoided the mistakes that the others had made and claimed that she had shot Harraldsson during the diversion that the terrorists had created. There were all sorts of similar claims that she'd shot Harraldsson. Marlin took each claim down, one by one, and he did so with so much ease that Athrun wondered if anything was too difficult for him at all. As each witness was dismissed, it became increasingly likely that Cagalli hadn't shot Harraldsson and that Harraldsson had caused her the injury.

"It was very messy," The guard claimed. "Lots of fighting everywhere and there were gunshots everywhere. It was terrible. She must have shot him at that point—when nobody had gone up the stairs."

"Where were you at that time?" Marlin pressed.

"I was at the entrance of the palace, fending off the terrorists with other guards."

"Hold it," Marlin said immediately. "How do you know that nobody went up the stairs?"

"I didn't see anyone going up." The guard said haltingly.

Marlin frowned. "Are you saying, witness, that no terrorist got past the main entrance of the palace?"

"Yes," The guard said. "Not before we heard the gunshot coming from upstairs."

"Are you sure you could hear a gunshot coming from the room upstairs? You weren't at the foot of the staircase—you were at the entrance of the palace."

"I heard it." The guard said stubbornly.

"There were other shots going on, am I right?" Marlin said, injecting doubt into his voice. He needn't have done that, for plenty of the jury were looking doubtful at what the guard was saying—even the Scandinavian representatives.

"It came from inside the palace." The guard said firmly.

"And who was in the palace at that time?"

"That person." The guard pointed to Cagalli. She reeled back, but Marlin reached out to steady her. He turned back to the guard facing the questioning.

"But there were other guards, Your Honour," Marlin said calmly. "She was not the only one who might have gone up the stairs and shot Harraldsson. During the scuffle, the other entrances of the palace were also used. There is evidence that fierce fighting took place on all parts of the ground floor from different entrances and even on the staircase, which guards and terrorists alike tried to climb."

"Objection, Your Honour!" Minrofherf interrupted, quite losing his cool. "There is no evidence that Ms. Atha got her injuries from the High King the way she claimed so. "

"As it is," The judge boomed, "The prosecution cannot prove otherwise."

"Thank you, Your Honour," Marlin said mildly. "The defence maintains that Harraldssson caused Ms. Atha her injury."

"Objection! Why would he do that?"

"The jury has agreed," The judge cut in, "That Harraldsson was in a very delicate state, and that he was tormented by nightmares frequently. Her sudden entry into his room when he probably thought it was a guard seeking permission to enter, would have made him attack in confusion. In the darkness of his bedroom, as it probably was at that time, he could have used more force than he intended to."

Cagalli had no clear expression on her face. But Marlin was already carrying on.

"Thank you, Your Honor," Marlin continued smoothly. "The defence submits again that she lost consciousness before she could shoot him. But the fact remains that Ms. Atha's fingerprints are on the gun that discharged the bullet Harraldsson sustained grievous injury from, as well as another person's. For that very matter, if a scuffle did break out between Ms. Atha and the High King, it may have well been confusion that someone had planned right from the start."

At this point, Athrun lifted his head and saw Marlin staring right at him. The jury began to whisper amongst themselves, some pointing openly to Athrn.

"Then what is your point, defense?" The judge said hesitantly. "As I and presumably the jury see it, the most logical explanation as to why Harraldsson broke her arm as Ms. Atha claims would be that a scuffle between them ensued while the guards were fighting with the terrorists."

"Your Honour," Marlin's voice was very clear. "The defense submits that Ms. Atha reasonably believed that could not have used the gun on Harraldsson. The defense submits that she did enter the room and there was an argument that ensued between two of them, but she had suffered an arm injury that had rendered her unconscious from the pain. And because she was unconscious, Your Honour," Marlin looked at all the members of the jury, his confidence cementing their every bias and ounce suspicion. "The gun had could be seized from her person by Athrun Zala."

"I will call for a recess." The judge decided. "If the prosecution wishes to reframe its charges, it may."

"Yes, Your Honour." Minrofherf said dutifully.

The noise of the courtroom had broken out again, and it was quite understandable in such a scenario. The climax of the circus was about to begin, and all the members of the jury were speaking amongst themselves. Now, Minrofherf looked less aggressive towards Marlin, moving towards him to shake his opponent's hand. As Athrun was led out by the baliff assigned to him, he passed by the two of them, who stared at him, and it was clear who both of them were really out to prove as guilty.

Perhaps, Athrun realized, both Marlin and Minrofherf had always known what the real target was. Perhaps, the adversarial nature of their questioning had been only geared to incriminate one person.

But as he passed Cagalli, he wondered why half of him hoped that she still believed he had kept his promise to her—that he would not kill anyone anymore. As he moved by, he noted that she seemed to be frozen, standing where she'd last stood at the podium.

Then Cagalli lifted her head, staring wildly, and Athrun felt a strange rush of triumph and relief at what Marlin had managed to do. Cagalli was going to get out of this, he told himself firmly. She was going to be fine. In truth, what Marlin had said was something that Athrun had been expecting and planning for since a long time ago.

What Athrun had not been prepared for was Cagalli's next reaction.

Almost unconsciously, Cagalli raised her hands above the podium, her head turning as he passed, putting them where he could see those.

And it was then that he saw what she was wearing on her finger.

* * *

As Yzak and his two colleagues moved sluggishly towards their chambers, quite tired from the questioning, Yzak felt his joints creak in protest to his movements. But as they neared the corridor where the resting chamber of the Plant representatives was, he noted that the door was slightly ajar. Still chattering behind him, his colleagues did not notice anything. But Yzak was already moving forward, for the sign could only mean one thing.

Yzak's plans could be carried through, now that he had come.

He increased his pace, ignoring the colleagues who called out and expressed puzzlement at Yzak's sudden burst of speed. As Yzak hurried down the corridor, half-running, half-brisk-walking, he moved hastily to the door and opened it. His face broke out into a smile when he confirmed who had arrived.

"So you came." Yzak said in relief.

"I must apologize for the delay. I couldn't gather enough evidence until a few hours ago." The stranger's face lit up slowly. "And with my wife's testimony, I think I can do as you have requested." He hesitated a little. "Even if it means that I will not be able to take her away now."

Yzak nodded. "Thank you."

"But you do realize what the implications of what I say will be, don't you? He won't be able to escape the responsibility of his acting independently from his instructions."

"He will most certainly be charged with insubordination back in the Plants." Yzak confirmed. But a smile played on his lips. "But knowing what the military courts back in Plant are like, I can safely say that he'll be fine in the end."

"I think so too. You are in charge of those courts, aren't you?"

Yzak scowled a little. "I never mix work with anything else."

"No." They shared a smile. "Of course not."

The two colleagues caught up with Yzak, huffing a little and complaining about his apparent mood swings. And they stopped, pausing exactly where Yzak halted and was blocking most of the entrance. The two representatives stared in surprise at the person who'd causally come into their chambers and had gotten past the security. Unbeknownst to them, the bailiff in charge of the Plant representatives' chambers had been given specific instructions by Yzak to allow a certain person in.

"W-Wait-," One colleague stammered, peering over Yzak's shoulder to see the person who was sitting on one of the chairs. "Isn't that- that?"

The guest stood up, moving towards them.

"I'm pleased to meet all of you." Erik Strumsson said quietly. He placed a gloved hand forward—a hand that Yzak took to shake; a steel hand beneath the glove that was there in place of flesh and blood.

He looked at Yzak almost diffidently. "I'm here to testify against my brother-in-law."

* * *

In their holding room, Cagalli was trying to keep from thinking about Athrun. He had passed her, and it had taken all her willpower not to grab hold of him and keep him there. Up close, the bruise on his cheek had been quite clear, and she thought of the pain he must have suffered for so long.

"Marlin," Cagalli said softly. "What happens now?"

"You've done well enough." He told her. "I'll handle the rest."

She ran a hand tiredly through her hair, trying not to feel suffocated in this room. While they were both clear that the room had not been bugged and their rights of privacy were being respected, Cagalli just did not feel safe. Her hands were tight in her lap and she felt faint. She was too tired to think anymore—too exhausted to blame herself for pushing Athrun into this situation anymore.

"When all this is over," Marlin said softly, "What will you do?"

"What will I do regarding what?"

Marlin stood up and began to walk over to where she was sitting. As he sat down, next to her, he pulled her hands into his, and Cagalli was forced to shift to look at him.

"Regarding your life." He said, in a very different voice from what she'd expected. In fact, Cagalli had expected him to show impatience at how unfocused she was being, how she was not following and answering his questions properly. Her performance in the questioning just now would certainly have made him upset, she thought briefly, except Marling began to speak again.

"Regarding your situation in Orb," He said. "Regarding how the media thinks we are engaged and to be married soon."

"I don't know." Cagalli whispered. "I haven't given it much thought about all these things."

"You'll have to, at some point." Marlin said quietly. "And that's why I'm asking you to marry me."

She stared, her eyes going wide. And then Cagalli chuckled, a soft, toneless chuckle. "April Fool's was a long time ago, Marlin."

"You still think I'm joking." He said tremblingly, losing that incredible measure he had over himself. "I'm not."

"You shouldn't be asking at this time." Cagalli said simultaneously, and they stared at each other, he with the wild blaze of hope she recognized in his eyes, and she without any emotion. While stunned, she was sadly, disconnected from the emotions he had wanted to transmit to her. She was entirely removed from his passions and his hopes, and it made her realize even more that he was engaging in a mistake.

But his voice grew slightly louder and more obstinate. "I don't want this incident to fade and have you forgetting about me. I don't want you to just thank me at the end and not hear me out."

She looked down and realized that her hands were still clasped in his. And uncomfortable, Cagalli pulled them away, turning back to face the seat he had vacated in favour for one next to hers.

But undeterred, Marlin took her hand again, turning her face to his, and slowly, his eyes sad and somehow hopeful, he began to kiss her. She had not been looking at him even if he had indicated he clearly wanted her to, and his kiss had caught her off-guard.

It was a familiar kiss. Familiar and strangely foreign all at once, and her eyes fluttered as she tried to blink and recollect her senses. He was urging her gently, easing her to him, and she almost forgot what she was doing. He kept one hand on hers, his fingers moving gently and almost non-threateningly onto the ring she'd worn, and it was all too clear that he thought she'd worn a random ring to carry on with their charade as fiancé and fiancée.

For a moment, she remained stunned and inanimate, but when he began to deepen the kiss, Cagalli pushed him aside, standing up in a fluster, and beginning to walk to the far end of the room.

He stood too, unsure of what to do next.

Her voice was quiet in the still room. "Don't do that again."

Marlin stared at her, and then tremblingly, he asked, "Why, Cagalli?"

She could not meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"All this time, who's been the one supporting you and making sure you aren't unharmed by the mess you're in?" He looked at her demandingly. His eyes flew to the ring she wore. "Is this really just a charade for you?Will you take that off immediately after the trial?"

He did not understand what that ring's particular significance was to her. She interrupted him by turning around, crossing her arms and saying, "I'm grateful for your friendship and loyalty, Marlin, truly I am. But-," He voice became slightly more sympathetic compared to the harsh one she had used, "Gratefulness isn't love. Experiencing another person's kindness doesn't oblige me to love in return. Kira told me that, and I agree with him."

Marlin turned pale. "That's not what he said to me."

"I'm not sure what Kira said in my absence," Cagalli told him. Her expression was gentle "But I think I know my twin well enough to say that he would only approve of a decision that I made for myself."

"But surely," Marlin began to argue, still standing there and staring at her, "I've moved you after all this time. Surely you knew why I did all I did for you- not because I wanted friendship. I wanted you to accept me, Cagalli-- not tell me you were grateful!"

Cagalli shook her head tensely, saddened by what he had said. But she remained with her arms crossed, unwilling to back down and unwilling to soften anymore in her sympathy for him. "Jimmy, I never knew that you wanted more than friendship. Truly, I didn't."

"Now you do." He said vehemently. "It doesn't matter that you couldn't see it all this time. Never mind that you didn't understand why I agreed to go along with Aaron Biliensky and Kira Yamato's plans and even resign so I could represent you as your defense attorney. I'm telling you now that I need you with me- and now you know."

He crossed the room too, grabbing her hands again, blind to her shock as she looked down momentarily at his hands and then at him. "I want you to marry me, Cagalli. Do you hear me? It doesn't matter that you didn't know I loved you more than anything I've loved in my life- ambition, the office, power, everything, anything!"

She shook her head, still cold and untouched, marble and unfeeling, even though she felt a twinge of compassion for him. She wondered when she'd hurt him, and she wondered if she ought to continue.

"It doesn't matter that I'm known as your fiancé only because it was a ploy to help you secure your power while you were away." Marlin said intently. "It doesn't even matter that a husband for the Princess of Orb has to be first approved of by the council- I've already been approved of, I can continue proving that I'm the right pers-,"

"Stop." Cagalli whispered. She yanked her hands from his for the second time in that hour, and wildly, she ran her hands across her face in her weariness. "Marlin, it's not possible! It makes sense for me to love you, I know."

His face was pale, and she was abruptly more aware of how exceptionally handsome he was, and what a dedicated man he would be to her. But all that was pointless now.

"But what I want and need isn't something that is necessarily sensible." She said steadily, her voice growing firmer. "It never was- or I would have married you when you first asked. Your doing so much more even after all these years makes me indebted to you. For that matter, your sacrifices for me are things I'll never forget or even be able to repay."

"You only need to tell me that you'll give me a chance to prove myself and that-,"

"No." Cagalli interrupted him, placing her hand on his shoulder and cutting him off. "I can't, Jimmy."

"Why?" His voice was filled with pain she never thought she'd hear in it, and she knew how despondent she was making him. But as she bit her lips, wondering how to tell him, Cagalli already knew that she had to be honest with Marlin. It was only fair.

"Because I belong to someone else." She said simply.

"Who?" He demanded.

She found no more reason to lie.

"Athrun Zala."

His eyes widened for an awful moment, and she thought she saw madness in his face. He covered his mouth in a silent cry, and then turned away, leaping to his feet, beginning to pace. Cagalli watched him dully, waiting for his outburst. But it never came—only more questions that she couldn't really answer.

"Was that why you gave yourself the opportunity to be shot down in court about wanting to go to Orb and not being instigated to go to Sweden?" Marlin demanded. "When you deviated from what we'd agreed on, I nearly wanted to cave in and give up. Your mistake was so obvious I thought it was hopeless. But you were doing that to protect your captor, weren't you?" His voice rose into an exclamation of simultaneous comprehension, disbelief, and worst, rage. He began to sputter. "You did it to protect that- that- bastard who tried to harm you!"

"I only wanted-,"

"No, shut up for a bit." He said violently, still not looking at her and pacing up at down. "I'm trying to think."

She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. And Cagalli felt incredibly drained even as he began to fit everything together.

His voice grew louder even though he did not spare her a glance. "Was that why you made me promise not to reveal that he had killed someone in his attempt to protect you? You wanted charges against him to be as light as possible- you were trying to protect him!"

"Yes." It made no more sense to lie.

"And all this while, I was trying to find evidence against him for your sake, evidence that would send him behind bars and put you in the best possible light as possible. Everything I did- all for your sake!"

She stared blankly into everything that lay before her, as consciously aware of Athrun's intent as Marlin was of hers now. Marlin had been trying, despite his promise to her, to force Athrun into a corner, to ensure that Athrun would never be pardoned or cleared.

She, on the other hand, had tried to protect Athrun by not giving the court the information that would have proved her innocence, for it would have endangered Athrun's hopes of being pronounced innocent too. He would have appeared to have instigated her into shooting Harraldsson by the very fact that he had caused her to go to Sweden.

Cagalli knew exactly why she had done what she had, regardless of the risks and of the trust Marlin had placed in her. Marlin had only just realized it. And Marlin was muttering himself still, pacing without any real ease in the room.

"I belong to him." Cagalli said softly, her voice still reaching Marlin when he was walking some distance, up and down, before her. And then louder and more firmly now, she repeated, "I belong to Athrun Zala."

Marlin stopped in his tracks for a few seconds, his face going pale.

Cagalli waited, hoping that he would allow her to explain.

But then he began to pace again, and his muttering grew louder until his voice crackled through his dry throat and his eyes grew more intense as they glared at the floor.

"You must be suffering from Stockholm's syndrome," He said bluntly, almost obtusely in his effort to ignore the truth that she had been trying to show him. "That's the only reason why you can stand before me and tell me that he did nothing wrong. That's the only reason why you believe that he never meant you any harm. That's why you're being so foolish as to refuse to wake up and see him for what he is- a beast!"

"I am not suffering from that!" She said sharply. Marlin was pacing even more furiously, and she felt a pang of pity shoot through her. "Don't doubt me, Marlin!"

"Stockholm's," He declared, more to himself than her. "That's the only plausible reason why you think you love him. That's why you can't bring yourself to see reality as it is- and you think he hasn't done you any wrong."

"But I do!" Cagalli cried impassionedly, unable to control herself anymore. She stood up now and pushed back the chair with a quick, rough shove. "And that has nothing to do with why I am willing to protect him at my expense. Nor do my feelings change the fact that he did not kill except in self-defense!"

Marling was already turning away, walking towards the door. His voice was cold. "I will get you the best therapist, Cagalli, and I will ensure that he provides a reasonably sound testimony to convince the court that Athrun Zala did mislead you in your emotionally-vulnerable state."

His voice became more and more broken, and when he spoke, she thought of deconstructed rails and thoughts that couldn't function properly and fully. "I want you to keep calm and trust me- _I'm_ to be trusted, not him. I'm going to make sure you recover properly- I won't let him get away with doing this to you. And when you're all better, you'll see that I'm the only one you need, that I can make you happy but he can only harm you."

She stared at his back, realizing that he was going deaf to sense and becoming blind to the truth. That was the only way he could deal with the hurt of her betrayal and the only way he could make sense of why she was telling him that she wanted to protect Athrun Zala at her expense.

"This case will soon be over," Marlin said stubbornly, walking faster now, striding away from her and the obvious truth she had given him. "I'll win."

"Is this all a matter of winning and losing to you?" Cagalli said, recoiling from him. "Doesn't the truth matter to you?"

"The truth?" He laughed brokenly. "But what you're telling me has to be a lie!"

"It isn't." She said softly.

His eyes narrowed. "I'll show you that he's best as a dead man. You didn't believe me when I told you to distance yourself from him."

"Because there was no real reason to!"

"There was." His voice grated with its anger. "Now, you make yourself vulnerable to attack in court. When this ends and you return to Orb, how will you fend off accusations that you protected the person who tried to harm you and-,"

In that moment, she made up her mind. Cagalli ran across the room, sprinting as she had never, grabbing his hand and pulling him to face her. He whirled around, stunned, but what she said made his current state virtually unaffected.

"I am with his child!" She burst out angrily and in her desperation. Marlin's eyes widened. "Do you believe me now when I say I belong to him and that I can't let him die?"

Marlin had frozen, but now, she saw something rear in his eyes- something like insane agony and the madness of taking on too much pain in too short a time.

He lunged forward, shaking her by her shoulders, his voice a bellow. "What did you say?"

"I am saying," Cagalli hissed, pushing off his hands, "That I was his lover. We were together for all this time on the Isle."

"Impossible," Marlin breathed in shock. "That's not-,"

"Why not?" She countered fiercely. "The testimony I gave in court was fabricated by you and I, Marlin. You may have believed that he sent me away to be under the charge of one of his colleagues as soon as he got hold of me on the SS Rafael, as the court believed. But you and I know that it isn't true. More than that- I have always needed him. When I met him again, I-," She broke away, shaking her head and hiding her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

"But even if you were with him, he couldn't have-," Marlin's face was still like paper, and his shock was making him inarticulate. Cagalli took in a deep breath, staring straight at him. Her voice ridiculed him, as did the laugh that she started with.

"Six months," She said softly, derisively, knowing that this was the only way to make Marlin believe her. "With a man as busy as Athrun Zala, even a week is more than sufficient."

He stiffened, and then a roar ripped itself from his throat. He seemed to tower over her in his rage, shaking her shoulders with an inhuman strength. But suddenly, he fell into his chair as a lifeless creature would have. His eyes were protuberant in his head, and he was shaking.

"I don't believe you." Marlin said helplessly. "He- he must have forced himself on you- that bastard!"

"He didn't!" Cagalli denied, trying to make her friend understand.

"That's why you became so dependent on him!" Marlin continued, interrupting her, his eyes gleaming with a crazed denial and a strangely familiar glint of triumph and mad confidence returning to him. "I understand now. Finally, I understand it all now. Forcing himself on you would have made you submissive to him for the rest of your time there, so you would do as he said. Otherwise, you never would have-,"

She shook her head. Her eyes regarded him unflinchingly, and her voice was a laughing one. She was laughing at how ridiculous their plight was; how twisted the comedy had become, and how much pain they were all in. "No, Marlin. He was my lover- a very good lover, in fact. It was consensual. Even if there had been coercion at any point, it was I coercing him, not the other way around."

"No!" Marlin was shouting now, and Cagalli was glad that nobody would be able to hear them. "I don't believe that-,"

"You must accept it." Cagalli said in a low voice. "Seeing him once was enough, all those years ago. Seeing him again made all this inevitable."

Marlin looked at her, silent now. And then he turned around, looking at her still with betrayal in his eyes, and moved out where he could think clearly without the urge to blame her for all that he'd suffered.

* * *

-10 days


	31. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

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A/N: Dear readers, thank you for sticking on with this for so long. I'm really sorry about the delay- some work was really urgent even after the exams. Still, I hope you enjoy this and for those who are holding out for a specific ending, let's just say that this isn't the final chapter.

* * *

Chapter 30

* * *

Moving as quickly as he could and stopping short of breaking out into a sprint, Yzak strode until he located the holding room that James Marlin and Cagalli Yula Atha were to wait in.

In his pocket, his hand brushed against his cell and his expression darkened a little as he thought of the call he had received from Cagalli Yula Atha. She was requesting to meet him, and Yzak had no choice but to do so. But frankly, Yzak did not know what more Cagalli Yula Atha wanted. More than anything, he was eager to return to prepare Erik Strumsson and to brief him on the situation at hand. He'd left the other two jury members to explain the basics, but there was far more that Yzak had to say to Erik in private. Before that, he also had to speak to Eileen Canaver and inform her that Erik would be testifying. He had a great deal to do, and he was not sure why Cagalli Yula Atha even wanted an audience with him.

As Yzak rapped on the door, he thought about the ring that Cagalli Yula Atha had been wearing—probably some token that Marlin had given her. He thought of Athrun, who had done nearly everything humanly possible to protect her and he wondered why Athrun had tried so hard when she could not do anything more than to return to the responsibilities of being the Orb Head that she was.

"Come in." He heard Cagalli say softly.

When he entered and closed the door, he saw only Cagalli Yula Atha. She was sitting in a chair, and for a moment Yzak's eyes actually skimmed past her; as if she had faded into the background.

Her legal counsel was absent, for which Yzak was both glad and somewhat puzzled about. He had assumed that the audience that she had sought with him had been to do with her defence, although it seemed that James Marlin was competent enough without the need for others' help.

"Your Grace," He said stiffly. "You wished to see me?" He swept his eyes around the room. The files were on the table, but Marlin was certainly not around. If it was help that Cagalli Yula Atha was seeking, Yzak was sure he would not give it. "Did your counsel want to clarify anything with me?"

She suddenly got down on her knees, sliding down from the chair and crouching with her arm still in that sling. It was so sudden and so unexpected for Yzak that he could not quite react, and he actually took a step back.

She bowed her head and her hair tumbled from where it had been tucked behind her ears, hiding her face and most of her expression, although her eyes looked at him fearfully. In her position, she was stooped, huddled like a kicked animal; beaten and begging.

"Get up!" He sputtered, his feet frozen. "You can't just—,"

"Take me to him." She said quietly. "Please, Yzak. I must see him."

He looked away, frowning. "I can't allow that. Not even as the Head General of Zaft or the Head of the Intelligence Council."

"But you're this former superior; one of the Numbers, right?" Her audacity rattled him.

"Even then, I'm not the Head of the Numbers, Your Grace." Yzak said stiffly. "I can't help him."

"But you still have permission to speak to him." She continued kneeling, as if waiting for an axe to swing down on her as the punishment she felt she deserved for being unable to speak out earlier.

Yzak looked at her and he knew that his will was crumbling. Her lips were trembling and she was still trying to stop her tears. Her fingers were wet and her nose was slightly pink, and he could tell that her will was the only thing preventing her from crumbling entirely. He wondered if he was going soft or whether he just could not stand to see women cry. But seeing the tears of this woman, whom he'd thought of as collected and even calculated at times, was no more than he could take.

Not sure of anything anymore, he took one step nearer and then knelt, taking her hand to help her up. She did not look at him, pink in the cheeks, eyes lowered and obviously embarrassed of her own emotional display. Cagalli Yula Atha seemed more human than ever; more likely to make mistakes that Athrun had.

As Yzak studied her, he realized that she did not seem to have planned what had happened. For that, Yzak could find it in him to empathize with her and the foolishness she'd displayed.

His expression softened. "I know you tried to cover up for him just now."

She kept mute, not daring to look at him. "But one of the Eyes is going to testify after this. I have to help Athrun find a way out of that."

He decided not to tell her that whatever she could influence of Athrun was probably of little significance now. In another corridor, the person who could save Athrun was ready to testify. Perhaps it was better if he dared to let Cagalli Yula Atha meet Athrun Zala. Perhaps it would aide Erik's testimony later on.

He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "I will make the arrangements for you to see Athrun now. It can be done—I will tell the guards that I want to verify a very important piece of evidence with Athrun Zala in your presence."

Eagerly, Cagalli nodded.

"This is on two conditions, Your Grace."

"I'll agree to anything!"

"First, I want you to tell nobody of this—not even your legal counsel."

"Of course." She nodded quickly. "The second?"

He studied her. "I want you to promise me that you will never look at him the way the world is so inclined to because of his father's mistakes."

* * *

As James Marlin strode down the corridors, he could almost hear his own pulse. His heart was beating in his ears and his throat was jammed, and he stuffed his fists into his pockets, afraid that he would lose control and lash out at something. He felt flushed and ill, sick with knowledge and the truth that she'd lied to him.

He passed a bailiff who bowed very low to him, but he did not take a second look at the person as he marched past, his court robes billowing out like a crow's plummage. He ripped them off with more violence than he realised, discarding those on a chair at the side.

"She doesn't understand," He muttered to himself. He was moving, trying to find an exit, trying to get to some light where these mazes of corridors would end. These never seemed to; path after path leading into complex grid after grid. The signs did not seem to be of any readable language to him.

He swept past two or three people who were emerging from some room in that corridor he was in. He didn't even look at them as he moved past swiftly, and he brushed against someone, for someone said loudly, "Hey! Can't you say excuse me?"

Marlin didn't turn back.

"It's fine," He heard one of them say behind him. "It was just an accident."

"No, Mr. Strumsson," the voice became fainter as Marlin moved further and further away from them. "He's a real big-shot! That's why he doesn't even apologize."

He was the Prime Minister and former ace solicitor. He had become the person he was by struggling, despite the way he appeared to sail through life. He had his private fears of returning to the first square of the slums he had been born in, and his emotional hunger and that angry, tireless ambition drove him to the top. He had money now, and he had people who needed him. But for so many years, that chase, that pursuit hadn't filled the chasm in him. Then he had met Cagalli Yula Atha, and he'd decided that his struggles had not been for anything.

In a strange way, Marlin had felt like his ambitions had been justified when he'd met her. If he had been anything less than the Premier, he would never have gotten a chance to even see her in person. He hadn't realized it when they'd established a friendship, but eventually, he'd realized how much he liked her. Even now, he thought he had made the right choice by giving everything up for the one person who had seemed to make his struggling worthwhile.

But he was a fool. He had nothing except the hollowed lies that he'd added to. She just didn't understand what she meant to him, and she had never considered what he was working for all this time.

And that was why Marlin could not take her betrayal. He thought about the way she'd told him that she was carrying Athrun Zala's child with that steady, prepared air of hers, as if she had expected him to take it well. And he thought about her earlier nervousness when he'd asked her to testify about being misled.

He could have kicked himself.

As Marlin turned into yet another corridor, someone bumped into him. He muttered an apology and was prepared to move on without looking back, but the person who'd collided into him grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around. Marlin looked up in surprise and came face to face with Shinn Asuka.

"What the hell are you doing here—,"

"Excuse me, what was that about?" Shinn demanded, cutting in and pulling Marlin into the nearest room he could see. "Why can't the defense do a proper cross-examination of the terrorists so that he can tear them down the way you tore down the testimonies of the guards?"

"The defense tried in the preliminary questioning during the finding process." Marlin told him bitingly, shoving Shinn's hands off his neck. "The defense agreed to concede that Athrun Zala is Greyfriars, amongst other things."

"But if it goes on like this, everyone'll think that Athrun Zala was leading the terrorists! Why is the defense not helping him?

"Did you expect the person representing him to try and get him off the hook?" Marlin's voice was harsh and loud, but he cared little that people passing by could possibly hear him. As it was, the corridors were vacated, and this room's ongoings were not being recorded by any camera.

"Quite frankly," Shinn said incredulously, "Yes!"

"It may not mean anything to you because you don't know much, Asuka." Marlin shot at him, his frustration at Cagalli now directed to Shinn. "But I don't think you understand how difficult it is to represent someone you don't have trust in."

He was ready to shove Shinn away and get out to wherever he could escape to. But Shinn's hand had tightened on his shoulder, and Shinn was growling. "What the hell do you mean by that, Marlin? Even a criminal deserves a lawyer!"

"Look, he's a Galactic criminal, and he's got one! Zala didn't want one, but those court procedures mean he gets one! He got one, Asuka, so why are you complaining about criminals deserving at least lawyers?" Marlin couldn't believe what was happening. He had never spoken much to Cagalli's former bodyguard even after Kira had introduced Shinn to him, but he had never expected Shinn to have so many screws loose. Why would Shinn care about the admittedly substandard defense anyway? Besides, how on earth had Shinn ended up getting into this section of the court?

"I would care less," Shinn growled, "If the defense wasn't screwing around and making things worse."

"I don't know why you should care." Marlin shook Shinn's hand of his shoulder once again. His tone was curt. "You shouldn't even be here, Asuka. This side of the building's unauthorized for anyone who's not part of the jury, the legal counsel or a witness. How did you even get in here? Did anyone authorize you?"

"Don't talk to me about that," Shinn barked. He was not about to tell Marlin that he had snuck past the bailiffs and had been heading to speak to Cagalli. He grabbed Marlin's shoulder again. "Tell me why the defense attorney the court got for him can't do anything."

"Like I said," Marlin turned on Shinn angrily. "I don't know! Go bother someone else, alright? Maybe it's got to do with the fact that the defense attorney is a junior and that this is his first time advocating, or maybe it's got to do with the fact that Zala's not going to get out of this even if Minrofherf was in love with him!"

Shinn let him go, his expression stunned. "You don't mean that the defense attorney's really not pulling his weight? It wasn't just my impression?"

Marlin snorted. "Anyone with an ass's brain would know that the defense attorney is too young and inexperienced for this and that he doesn't even believe in Athrun Zala. Even if you are the best advocate in the world, you can't defend anyone if you don't believe for a second that they could be innocent. And frankly, I think that's pretty justified with Zala here."

"But he's not guilty!" Shinn cried. His voice rose loud and Marlin knew that it was a matter of time before some bailiff would hear them. The corridor was not near the holding rooms for the jury or witnesses, and for that reason, Marlin was very glad. But still, Shinn's presence here was not a good thing. "Athrun Zala can't have wanted Orb and Scandinavia to go to war! The defense has to believe that!"

"Even if the defense did and had the skill to argue that, nothing can change the fact that Zala's dead meat, Asuka." Marlin looked at him with a rage that Shinn had never seen on this person's face before. Marlin had always been in control and jovial if somewhat insincere and guarded. But now Shinn could sense that something had gone very, very wrong for Marlin. "I can tell you this, Asuka. He and Cagalli were the only ones with Harraldsson. Cagalli did not shoot Harraldsson, and that leaves Zala."

"How do you know that she didn't shoot Harraldsson?" Shinn countered.

Marlin shook his head, unable to believe that he was standing in the middle of a corridor, arguing with Shinn and defending a woman that Marlin had just lost all trust in. He didn't even know Shinn Asuka that well, except that he'd randomly popped up in Orb and wanted to see Kira with another letter. "I don't have the obligation to tell you."

"No, tell me!" Shinn insisted. "How are you going to prove that she didn't shoot Harraldsson? All you did just now was to prove that the witnesses were unreliable, but that doesn't clear her of all doubt!"

"It's enough to defend on the balance of probabilities." Marlin said sharply. "Although I have pretty decisive proof to show her innocence." But he wondered if it was worth standing in court to defend her ever again.

Shinn hesitated. "Does it have to do with her inability to shoot?"

So Aaron had told Shinn that Marlin now had this information.

Marlin looked at Shinn, not sure what to say. But his silence was an affirmative, for Shinn seemed to grow more determined. "I'll testify for her, Marlin! If it will clear her of any doubt, Marlin, let me testify!" He shook his head. "That's really what I came in here to say to both of you—I don't want to see Atha go back out there and face doubts about her commitment to Orb."

Marlin stared in surprise at Shinn. "Why do you care?"

"She's become a friend to me." Shinn said quietly. He shook his head a little. "Although I'm worried about the implications for Athrun Zala if I testify."

Marlin's expression hardened again. "Why do you care about him anyway, Asuka? Does he mean as much to you as your friend and former employer? Or is he something to you too? Did he help you in Zaft? I heard you worked with him in the Second War from Aaron—does your belief in him have to do with anything of that past? Why don't you go and help Zala instead? Seems that he could use it like you say—the defense attorney's not helping him very much."

Shinn took a step back, fear striking at him. He began to stammer. "What are you talking about? W-What do you mean? Go and help him?"

Marlin made a sound of exasperation, realizing that he had spoken too much already. The more objective side of him was telling Marlin that he was treating Shinn unfairly. Shinn probably didn't even know what was going on and was just voicing out frustration at the general incompetence that the defense for Athrun Zala had displayed. "You know, you should just get out of here before anything happens and Cagalli's accused of buying testimonies."

He began to move in the direction he had been headed in, except Shinn grabbed him again.

"What is it now?" Marlin spat. He was trembling, Shinn could see, and he was very pale, as if he was about to lunge out at something.

Shinn shook his head. "Did something happen?"

Marlin turned away. His voice was cold. "No. Now get out of here before I get a bailiff to come."

* * *

He sat in his chair quietly, as if he was resting. Yet, Athrun's mind was moving very quickly, and very little of his emotions were calm ones. His hands were no longer bound because there was no way to escape from a room with no window and only one door that faced a heavily guarded corridor. But instead of massaging his aching wrists, Athrun ignored the smarting of his hands.

He had been bound for a long time and the physical restraints for a few more hours would have made no difference. Besides, he thought wryly, this was his retribution for the time he'd chained Cagalli to the bed for fear that she would escape or hurt herself.

He continued to sit in the hard-backed chair, waiting. The confinement room was like a cell, but with a table and a marginal effort at civilization. It was almost like he'd been pronounced guilty already.

As he thought about what he would say next in the courtroom, he heard a rapping on the door and the bailiff's voice. "Mr. Zala, you have a visitor."

Before he had a chance to respond, the door opened and Athrun looked up to see Cagalli standing in the doorway. As Yzak led her in, he knew that she had come with all intents and purposes to find him. She stood there, quiet and grave, while Yzak gave him only a glance, saying vaguely, "I'll handle the bailiff—I've got to go back speak to Eileen Canaver too." and then shut the door, leaving both of them there. Yzak might as well have spoken Greek, for nobody in the room was paying attention to him.

Within seconds, Cagalli was moving to him. As she murmured his name, the quality of the room became apparent. Her voice rose and died almost immediately in the stillness of the soundproofed place, and only the slight parting of her lips suggested that she had spoken.

He stood up, prepared to speak and drive her away as he'd planned. And yet, it struck Athrun that he had expected her to come in the first place. If he had once found her unpredictable and intriguing for that very reason, he realized with a pang of sadness that he had learnt to understand her and would have to use that to direct her actions once more.

But before he could say anything, Cagalli was undoing her sling and he saw that her injury was not as bad as Marlin had made it out to be. It was serious, no doubt, but it was not broken as it had appeared. There were only a few bandages on the wrist area left. She shook her head, hushing him by pressing a finger to his lips, and her hands crossed to his face.

Wordlessly, she stroked the bruise on his cheek gently. There was a small, hesitant smile and her eyes were bright with tears as she began to kiss him, pulling him to her.

He found himself wanting to return it; wanting to respond, wanting to hold her back and wanting her. He wanted to run his hands over her cheeks and rove those over the shoulders and hands that he could remember so well. Her body was small and warm, and he yearned to have it fit against him for as long as his hands could hold something.

But he pushed her away with all the force he could muster.

She cried out a little as she stumbled against the wall. "Ath—,"

"Don't lie to me." Athrun said coolly. He pointed at her arm. "Marlin's helping you. You don't need to kiss me to get anything more from me—not anymore. Save those kisses for him."

Cagalli's face was pale. "What are you saying? I asked Yzak Joule to give me permission to come here. He wasn't happy about this at all, but I begged him. I need to warn you about the letters— the prosecution has an Eye's testimony regarding the seal. I came because—,"

He shook his head, cutting her off for his sake, keeping his voice masked because it was impossible to inject anger into it. "You made use of me each time on the Isle, and if you think you can continue that in this courtroom, you're wrong. Go back to him. He's the one who will be your fool from now on."

Cagalli looked at him, her expression confused, then morphing into pain and a deep disappointment. She drew in a deep shuddering gulp, and her voice shook.

"I don't believe that you were trying to kill Harraldsson," She cried softly. "You did it to protect me, didn't you?"

He lifted her chin, looking at her without any clear emotion on his face. "I'm afraid you don't understand how I work, Cagalli. My final duty is still to the Numbers. You were not part of the equation at that time."

"But that can't be true! I don't believe that! That's why I tried so hard to lead the blame away from you, Athrun! I was supposed to say that you'd misled me to going to Sweden, but I couldn't do it!"

Athrun shrugged. "It's not my job to convince you to save yourself. That's James Marlin's." He turned away for a second. "If it goes well, he won't find out that you played him out by making use of me."

Losing control, she grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to turn back to look at her, trying to find something that would remind her of the person he'd been with her in the past. But all she saw was that insincere, cool demeanor; that strangely familiar but somehow detestable, subtly threatening Rune Estragon.

"I was trying my best back there." Cagalli whispered. "How could you say that I was making use of you or Marlin?"

"Then why do you rely on him at all?" He countered. Once more, Athrun found he was using the small seeds of jealousy in him to turn her away. To hide the lies within the truth had always been the best way to lie. "I watched him with you, Cagalli. Don't tell me that you don't know that he's putting everything out there for you as your fiancé."

"But I didn't!" Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head wildly. "I swear I didn't know he wanted so much, Athrun!" She clutched at him wildly. "We were never engaged! I never told you properly, but—," He voice broke and she was half-sobbing, half-begging. "Oh God—was that why you refused to look at me in the courtroom? Is that why you don't trust me now when that Marlin's representing me?"

Athrun stared at her, his pulse hammering against him so violently that he wondered if his astonishment would be seen by her. But he only just managed to keep his expressions hidden and not give up on what he'd started. "Look at you-," His eyes gazed at her and her pink cheeks and lips. "You're not worth very much under that exterior, are you? For every single scrape that you get out of, you have to use someone as a stepping stone."

"No!"

He let his eyes linger over her neck and further down. "What about that façade of competence? You need your fiancé to get you out of this, don't you? You certainly needed me to do everything you managed on the Isle. What if I told everyone in the courtroom of what we got up to in those months?"

She stared at him, tears falling from her eyes and her hands near her mouth as she shook her head, trying to make him stop. He wanted to—he wanted to take her in his arms and beg for her to forgive him and to trust him still. But he had set his mind on this.

There was almost no chance of him getting out of the mess he was in, and if she tried to save him, she would jeopardize her own chance too. As it was, her efforts to cover for his role in her going to Sweden was jeopardizing the coherence of her own testimony. He couldn't have that. He needed her to stop caring about him and to start thinking only of herself. As far as Athrun needed to know, Marlin would do his job well and he would care for her. That was all that mattered, Athrun tried to remind himself.

"Don't say anymore," Cagalli begged. "It's not like that at all, Athrun. Please. You have to believe me and what I have to tell you and ask you to do later. I'm trying to protect you, Athrun, you must believe me."

"I'm not going to believe or do anything you ask me to." His voice rose harshly. "He's put you up to this, I know that. Just like that arm." He grabbed her hand and lifted it, looking at the ring. "You wear this as a charade for the public; but that's all it is even for us!"

He dropped her hand roughly, trying not to care that she let out a tiny little gasp of pain because of her injuries. "You know, I thought I was capable of caring for someone else at one point." He smiled grimly. "But at least you've taught me that it's every person for himself. I never realized it Cagalli, but that's the thing that makes you able to lead your country."

"I'm not like that," She said through gritted teeth. "You were the one who told me I wasn't like that! You were the one who took me close to you."

"And who was it who offered yourself in the first place?" He mocked her. She flinched, shrinking back, her face white and the blood rushing from it. He looked at her coolly. "At least you were good to have, even if that's all you amounted to."

Cagalli reeled back. "I don't believe—," She shook her head, as if trying to clear what he'd said.

"I know the real reason as to why you came here." He said evenly, knowing that his utter control over his words would hurt her more than anything else. "You're trying to beg me not to say anything about our relationship. Aren't you?"

"That's not why I came!" Her voice rose and angry tears welled up. "That's not why I said what I did back there!"

"Don't lie. You want to get out of this in one piece and like you were never sullied, don't you? But I'm here and I'm still alive, and that's why you're worried. I could easily besmirch your reputation with this, and you're afraid of me doing so." He laughed at her. "It's not just because of your country, is it? You're afraid of so much more. You're afraid of me telling everyone around you about the agreements you led me into, including that man who defends you and believes in you being so pure and defends you wholeheartedly. I'm sure he'll be less willing to defend you when he finds out that you were in my bed for hours at an end."

"Marlin's not—," was that really her voice, so weak and broken? "He's not anything to me."

"You're afraid he'll find out how you behaved with me." Athrun gripped her by her shoulders. "You know who I am, don't you? I was the first man you ever had. You don't want anybody to know, do you? What would James Marlin think if he knew who you really were?" He watched her looking more and more faint and he knew he was just moments away from achieving his purpose. He forced a laugh. "I took you before he did, didn't I? And you were another man's wife-to-be at that time! You couldn't go without me, once I took you. I daresay that you enjoyed it."

"You can't prove we had a relationship," She said tremblingly. "You're lying to me. You can't say that, Athrun—you'll ruin everything!"

"Why not?" He said laughingly. "I can prove it with Epstein's word. He's still loyal to me. He can testify about the occasions that I brought you out to sea." He leaned forward. "Did you look through all the evidence that's out there, Cagalli? They found the yacht we were on."

She shrank back. "What?"

"The investigation may have been rushed, but I'm sure traces of my presence and yours can be found. Besides, there's Epstein. At my signal he would not hesitate to recount even the times when we would lock ourselves in my office. There are a thousand things that you can't erase even if that would help you get out of this courtroom with an intact reputation. I'm the one who can destroy you, Cagalli." He looked at her intently. "But then, you knew that all along. That's why you're here."

"Why are you doing this?" She whispered.

Athrun smiled coldly. "I've lost everything because of you, Cagalli. It's the least I can do to return the favour."

He hauled her to him and kissed her roughly. It was hungry, poisonous in its spontaneity, for speaking in the calm, measured tones had forced him to take another outlet for his pain. Perhaps this was it, for this kiss was angry and possessive; desperate even. He brushed his hands against her, yanking off her jacket, grabbing at her roughly, trying to pull her against him. She struggled hard, crying out, and she tried to push him away. He only laughed and pulled her closer, winding a hand in her hair as he'd used to do once; running his fingers in those gold strands.

A moment later, Cagalli broke free and struck out at him.

A stinging welt formed across his cheek as she struck him, his lips bleeding slightly where her teeth had bitten them. Her tears were still spilling but her hatred helped her to hold her head high. This was what he had made of her, Athrun realized. This was the last gift he could give her for her to survive.

"You bastard." Cagalli said brokenly. "You're more like your father than I thought."

She collected her things in a daze, and she stumbled out of the room. He took a step back, collapsing into his seat, and he hid his face with hands and did what only his will had prevented him from doing previously.

* * *

Back in the privacy of his holding room and in the absence of the other jury members that Eileen had requested to leave, Yzak was fighting desperately.

"Chairman," Yzak was trying not to let his voice shake. "He can testify."

"Exactly," Erik was doing his best to convince Eileen as well. "I have solid evidence here other than my testimony." He lifted a file. "I have documents that my wife kept of her brother's dealings with weapon companies and the lands he acquired and used as camps to round up Danish Coordinators."

"I'm afraid I won't allow you to testify." Eileen's expression was troubled, but there was grimness in her expression that suggested how she had made up her mind. "Even if I give permission for you to divulge the Isle's secrets, the jury and the judge will never allow a witness like you to take the stand. Your personal circumstances are far too questionable; as your personal interests will seem."

"Let them question me!" Erik argued. "They cannot prove what does not exist. All the interest that exists for me is to expose the things my brother-in-law caused!"

"But Plant has sworn you to silence ever since we granted you refuge and protection in Plant. Your dealings with our Intelligencers and the Isle and most particularly the nature of the Isle and the people on it are of utmost confidentiality."

"But Chairman!" Yzak's voice was desperate now. "He can avoid revealing those things!"

"Don't fool yourself, Head General. That is impossible in the situation at hand if he is allowed to take the stand."

She paced the room, her honey-coloured hair less vibrant in the harsh light of this room. The other members of the jury were kept outside, and Yzak was not afraid to speak his mind with another member of the Intelligence Council and the head of the Plants. "No. Erik Strumsson, you cannot nor do you have to testify. It defies my understanding as to why you would want to break his silence now, given that your wife has awoken from her coma and would benefit a great deal from what Plant is offering you."

Erik was silent, looking down at the hand he had lost. Yzak did not have to glance at him to know what tremendous conflict and inner turmoil Erik must have fought with before deciding to come here.

"But he's willing to give that up," Yzak argued. After his visit to the remand centre where he'd glimpsed Athrun in that battered, weakened state, he had pleaded with Erik Strumsson to testify against Pietre Harraldsson. It had been a selfish request, as Yzak had admitted, given that Strumsson's testimony would undoubtedly include the location of the Isle and lead to more questions about who had been there and why Zaft and Plant had been in control of a forgotten, coastal region within an Earth Alliance territory.

Erik Strumsson had been given refuge when he had fled an assassination attempt seven years ago, and Plant had agreed to let him bring his wife there as his fears for her safety were justified. At the same time, Plant had obtained the information Erik had passed to them to understand the threat that Pietre Harraldsson was to the delicate balance between Coordinators and Naturals, and it had started a new operation on the Isle for the precise reason of safeguarding the peace.

Thus, Erik Strumsson had been reluctant to testify against Pietre Harraldsson and thus provide a reason that Athrun would be able to use. His eventual agreement had given Yzak hope, and now Yzak was terribly afraid that all this would still come to nothing.

"Athrun Zala must have shot Harraldsson," Yzak muttered. "But I'm sure he had a good reason for doing so. If Erik testifies, then the jury will understand that it was in self-defense against a highly dangerous person. Isn't that true, Erik?"

Before Erik Strumsson could apply, Eileen cut in.

"Look, Head General," Eileen said sharply, "It's not like you to lose your cool here. Think about it. So far, the jury's been unanimous and on rather civil grounds of decisions despite the undeniable tension between each section. Putting Erik on the stand will make the different sections go wild, and you can be sure that's the self-destruct button for any decision that follows in our favour."

"But I have these pieces of evidence!" Erik protested, holding up the file he had compiled. He thought of Freja Magdalena's weak state after she'd come out of her coma but her dogged, brave insistence that he find the documents that she had taken and hidden from her brother and thus suffered so much injury and injustice for. She had urged him to do what he thought was right with everything that she'd amassed, and now Erik was sure that he was doing the right thing.

"But think about it more." Eileen said tiredly. "Erik, you weren't there on the day of the events. You were away in Prague, hiding from the terrorists as was the order the Intelligence Council gave Athrun Zala and made him carry out."

"I can tell them what Harraldsson did!"

Eileen shook her head. "Your information on Harraldsson is important, no doubt, and I applaud your courage in forgoing the refuge we are giving you and your wife in order to help Athrun Zala. But what good can you do other than establishing that Harraldsson was a criminal? You weren't there. You did not see Harraldsson attack Zala; you did not see Harraldsson do anything that warranted Zala's behavior. You are almost useless on the stand and you would be throwing away the chance of a new life in the Plants in safe anonymity for you and your wife if you do as the Head General has somehow convinced you to."

She made preparations to leave the room, straightening her coat and forcing her voice to be steady. "If Zala is truly innocent like you believe, Head General, and that he had a lawful excuse for killing Harraldsson, then he'll be able to prove himself without Erik Strumsson's help."

"Not with how the jury's biased against him!" The words flew from Yzak's mouth before he could stop himself.

Eileen slammed her fist on the table between them. Her face was pale and she shook her head, even though Yzak knew she personally agreed with him. "I will not have you accusing the integrity of the members of the jury, Head General, especially those from Plant!"

"It's especially them that don't believe him," Yzak said fiercely. "They think he's a black-sheep of a Coordinator—he's not one of them anymore. They want to put him away because they think he's a Coordinator who doesn't deserve to be one of us."

"Perhaps they are justified in thinking so as long as Athrun Zala cannot prove his innocence." She said tonelessly. "Of all people, Head General, I chose you to represent the Plants because I was convinced that you would keep emotions and long-time friendships from objectivity." She turned away. "Don't disappoint me more than you already have."

"I am being objective." He insisted. If there was one person he thought he agreed most with in terms of policies and mentality, it was Eileen Canaver. Her husband and child could not change the way she thought or the way she committed to the Plants, and he had always admired her for her strength and doggedness. But bitterness rose in him when he realized that he had still been moved by his friendship with Athrun and that Eileen Canaver could not be moved by anything else outside her duty to the Plants. "I am being objective when I say I believe in his innocence."

"Then someone else will have to prove it." She said quietly. "The trial will resume, and I expect you to make the right decision when the time comes."

Yzak stared at Eileen in frustration. "Doesn't the fact that Athrun Zala is innocent have any impact?"

She looked at him, and the ravages of time under her eyes and the way she had to force herself to stand tall made Yzak feel less sure about himself too. "Doesn't the fact that I have to account for a million more lives out there have any impact?"

Erik Strumsson and Yzak Joule were left standing helplessly while Eileen left quietly with the countenance of one who had assumed more weight on her shoulders with no way of ever taking the yoke off.

* * *

As Marlin stepped into the holding room, closing the door quietly and turning to look at her, he had every intention of discharging himself of his duty. In the last half hour, he had prepared himself to tell Cagalli of this, for he had been far too broken by what she'd revealed. How was he to protect someone that he could not agree with or trust on any single ground anymore? Her rejection of him had smarted, but what had hurt more had been the way she had made use of him even if unwittingly.

But as he turned to her and took one look at the woman he loved, James Marlin knew immediately that his decision was moot. He flew to her, grabbing her and trying to hold her up as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. "I didn't mean to be so harsh—I wasn't thinking straight. I take back everything I said about your integrity. I didn't mean it, Cagalli."

She shook her head, still crying with those quiet, tiny sobs that made her shoulders tremble. If only those words had come from another. She made no sound, her hands near her mouth, but she could not open her eyes to look at him. When she tried to speak, she could only do so in broken gulps that shook her frame.

"No, it's me who should be sorry." She told Marlin. "I won't try to protect him anymore." She choked back her tears. "I don't know why I said everything I did to you. I don't even know what I was thinking—,"

He knelt by her, wiping the tears that escaped her control. "It's fine; I don't blame you. You were vulnerable then and he was the only person who you could have relied on for anything in the place that you were at. He was Kira's friend too, that's why you believed him more than you should have."

He hugged her gently, being careful with her arm. "I take back everything I said that hurt you, Cagalli, but I meant everything about wanting to be with you. Don't mistrust me—I don't care even if you lied to me or had me like a fool back there. You don't deserve to be hurt this way."

Cagalli tried to choke back her tears and tell him what she was crying about. But she couldn't. She couldn't even explain the pain within her and the way she'd found herself crumbling when Athrun had looked at her and smiled that strange, cold smile of his. "It's true though. I did love him. I really thought I did."

And she knew she would not be able to ever tell Marlin again that she had loved Athrun even before meeting him at the Isle again. She thought of Athrun's eyes and the way he had laughed at her for her foolishness, and she felt her hands go weak. Had he really believed that when she had pulled him out of the water and resuscitated him, she was doing everything for Marlin's sake?

She did not know what to think anymore. Her tears were still falling and she was sobbing quietly, desperately, panting because of the lack of air.

"It's fine," Marlin repeated gently. He hugged her to him. "Don't think of anything of the past anymore. Think of what you have now. I know you aren't as dependant on him as he made you think you were. You have me. I can still help you out of this. Don't be frightened. I'll find a way to clear you of the charge of causing grievous hurt to Harraldsson. I don't believe you shot him—you couldn't have. It was Athrun Zala who took the gun from you."

Her hands were grasping blindly and wildly, and if she had meant to find anything, there was only Marlin's hands that found hers and tried to steady her. But even that warm grip did not fill the aching and maddening grief in her.

"You were lucky that you didn't say anything more than what you did."Marlin said quietly. "Or I would have probably had to discharge myself."

She did not know what to say to that, and so she nodded, still numbed and cold from the encounter with Athrun.

"He's not worth saving, you know." Marlin told her. "He was definitely the one who shot Pietre Harraldsson. Regardless of whether Harraldsson was a good person or bad person, Athrun Zala shot him, and he has to face up to that charge."

"What makes you so sure that Athrun Zala shot Harraldsson?" She whispered shakily. "How can you prove that I couldn't shoot?"

"The fact that you can't shoot at close range." He said directly. "I have a witness—a doctor who treated your injuries from the event that happened on your twenty-second birthday. He can testify that your trauma was so great that it would have been impossible for you to shoot. If need be, I can bring in a bodyguard you had subsequent to the event to prove that you developed the inability to shoot at anything less than two metres in front of you. Shinn Asuka, I believe. He'll definitely help us there."

Cagalli swallowed, not finding the strength to tell him who had trained her to during her stay on the Isle. If it would save her, she would let him continue with his understanding of her past.

"As for the charge of inducing Kira to lead the troops into Orb," Marlin said softly, "Zala will certainly not even have a chance of clearing that. As long as you keep maintaining that you never trusted Athrun Zala, no matter what kind of evidence the prosecutor throws at you, I will find a way to get you out of this. And even if I don't, the prosecutor can't fail on this particular charge now. "

"Why?"

"Because the prosecution has found a way to use an Eye's testimony to incriminate Athrun Zala for good." He looked at her with a small smile. "And I have a way to get you off the hook for sure."

* * *

When Yzak came in with the others, Athrun noticed that he was visibly shaken. It seemed that the members of the jury were revitalized and ready to hear the rest of the trial, but Yzak looked ill and worried. Wryly, Athrun wondered what there was to worry about when the outcome was decided anyway.

"Your Honour, the charge that Ms. Atha still faces is that of causing grievous hurt to Pietre Harraldsson," Marlin said confidently. "The defense will begin examination now."

"Proceed."

"Ms. Atha," Marlin said. "I would like to refer you to evidence number twelve of the master bundle of authorities."

The jury and judge stared at her as she lifted a clear bag with a gun in it.

"Ms. Atha, you took this gun from the yacht you used to get to Sweden. True?"

"Yes."

"Ms. Atha, did you use this gun at any one point while in the Swedish Winter palace?"

"No. I lost consciousness from my injuries before I could pull the trigger. My injury was to the left arm, but I was in too much pain to muster any strength to even hold the gun. Even if I had been in the perfect state of health," She hesitated a little, thinking of what Marlin had briefed her on. He nodded a little encouraging her, and she forced herself to continue. "I would have been unable to shoot at close range."

"Ms. Atha, when you faced Harraldsson, did you hear anything going on beyond that room?"

"Gunshots, yes. Screams and the sound of fighting."

"I see. Ms. Atha, when you passed out, as you say, did you remember anything?"

She could. She could remember Pietre Harraldsson falling forward. That had been all. Her back had been facing the door and she could remember that it had been opened. But she hadn't seen who had shot and she was afraid to think of who it had been. "No. I don't remember anything. But I know I didn't shoot."

"Ms. Atha, your fingerprints are on this gun, and you say that you took it from the yacht you were on. By right, the owner's prints should be on those, unless he was wearing gloves or regularly cleaned his prints off a gun. Instead, there are only Mr. Zala's prints apart from yours." Marlin was clearly advancing the case theory that he had used before, Athrun realized. "Can you then explain why Mr. Zala's prints are also on this gun?"

She bit her lips a little. "I don't know why those are there."

"Thank you, Ms. Atha." Marlin turned to the jury and judge. He had no more need to say anymore, for it was obvious what he was suggesting. "No further questions."

The prosecutor took over. From his absence of objection as to Marlin's careful tracts of questioning, Athrun was quite sure that Minrofher did not see her as a suspect at all. Rather, he saw her as a witness to incriminating someone far more significant. "Ms. Atha, you say you never used the gun at any point. True?"

"True."

"Then Ms. Atha, can you explain why there is one bullet missing from the cartridge?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe when I took it, there were only five inside."

"That is possible Ms. Atha," Minrofherf said slowly. "Did you check that it was fully loaded when you brought it with you?"

She had. It had been. She thought of what Marlin had asked her to stick to but found herself hesitating. "I don't think so."

"Moving on then, Ms. Atha, you are about one point six five. True?"

"Approximately, yes."

"Ms. Atha, the bullet that caused Harraldsson his main injury was at point blank. If you were to raise your hand, any discharged bullet from your gun would have been at that spot."

"I'm sorry." Marlin was on his feet. "Your Honour, anybody can aim at anyone at close range. Anybody who had been in that enclosed space would have hit easily at Harraldsson's chest to cause him that injury."

"Sustained."

"Well then, Ms. Atha," Minrofherf said testily, "You said previously that you would be unable to shoot even if you had a gun in your hands, due to your inability. What is the nature of this inability?"

She took a shaky breath, saying what Marlin had convinced her to. "Three years ago, on my birthday, I had to shoot in self-defense when some assassins broke in. I suffered from symptoms akin to being shell-shocked for months after that, and I was unable to shoot at any kind of range, particularly at close-range."

"Your Honour," Marlin called out, "May the defense bring in a new witness to prove Ms. Atha's inability?"

"You may."

"Thank you, Your Honour."

* * *

Shinn Asuka took the stand and Marlin questioned him.

"Mr. Asuka, you were Ms. Atha's bodyguard for nearly a year when she was twenty-three. True?"

"True."

"Mr. Asuka, did Ms. Atha ever carry a gun on her?" Marlin said carefully.

"If she ever did, it was I who encouraged her to. She was often reluctant to."

"How would you describe Ms. Atha's competency with a gun?"

"She was not competent at the point when I was working for her. I was surprised to find that she was so poor with her aim. Her hands would shake continually when she tried to shoot during target practice and particularly at close range. She was also quite inacapalbe of loading the gun correctly at times; as if she was not paying attention or trying not to pay attention to what she was holding. This is what I noticed, and I thought it was unusual for somebody who had been through a war. Now that you say that she went through a traumatic experience—," He shrugged. "That would make sense."

"Given your understanding of Ms. Atha's competency with a gun, Mr. Asuka, would you say that Ms. Atha would be likely to fire successfully at close range and in a pressurizing situation?"

"Objection!" Minrofherf was standing and frowning. "Your Honour, I cannot allow this line of questioning when Mr. Asuka was not at any point present in the circumstances."

"But Your Honour," Marlin said quickly, "Mr. Asuka is arguably one of the bodyguards that Ms. Atha trusted deeply and took advice from. He has also testified to training with her so as to understand her weaknesses and to accommodate her reactions in the kind of situation she faced at the Swedish Winter Palace."

The judge considered this for a moment. "Overruled. Continue, defense."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Marlin turned back to Shinn. "Mr. Asuka?"

"It's unlikely that she would be able to shoot. She always tensed up and didn't seem to be able to pull the trigger."

"Thank you, Your Honour. No further questions."

Minrofherf took his turn to do the cross-examination.

"Mr. Asuka, did Ms. Atha ever go for therapy and counseling to get over her trauma?"

"Not that I know of."

"Mr. Asuka, you mention that you trained together with Ms. Atha. During these training sessions, weren't these attempts she made to regain her past expertise with weapons?"

"Maybe you could say that, but those were training sessions I initiated. It's important for the employer to understand what the bodyguard is likely to do during certain dangerous situations."

"I understand, Mr. Asuka. But would you say, Mr. Asuka, that Ms. Atha was able to shoot even if not very well?"

"I don't think so," Shinn looked at him stubbornly. "Like I said, she was quite hopeless with a gun. She never carried one if she could, precisely because it was useless even if she did. She could not get over her fear of having a gun in her hands. It was clear to me even then, despite my lack of understanding as to why."

Minrofherf gave a small little shrug, as if Shinn's rather airtight testimony was not an issue for him anyway. "No further questions, Your Honour."

"Court adjourned for half an hour. The verdict regarding the charge of grievous harm will be read out shortly."

As Marlin took Cagalli gently by the arm and began to lead her from the stand, they both passed Athrun. Marlin stared at him hard, although Cagalli's eyes carefully avoided his. The two men's eyes did not blink, although Marlin's hand tightened around Cagalli. All Athrun could do was to be proud of his control.

"By the powerful testimony and the fact that Ms. Atha could not use a gun, she could not have shot at Harraldsson. Prosecution, we will deal with the next charge."

Athrun kept silent as he watched Yzak's face tighten. Cagalli stole a glance at him, and he saw that her eyes were frightened and unsure, but nobody seemed to be surprised by the decision.

"Your Honour," Minrofherf spoke up, "The remaining charge that Mr. Zala faces is as follows. Mr. Zala faces the charge of criminal instigation of misleading and instigating Mr. Yamato, the Orb Proxy, to direct the Orb troops unlawfully into Scandinavian territory. Given the rather lacking testimonies regarding the entry of to Orb troops into the palace that day, the prosecution will require Ms. Atha to assist the court as a witness in understanding the events."

"Proceed, prosecution. Ms. Atha," the judge said kindly, "Do bear with the court."

"Yes, Your Honour." She said softly, remaining where she was. All suspicion of her had been cleared, and Athrun was relieved for at least that. Now, she would testify against him, and she would be free to live her life once more.

Minrofherf began questioning again.

"Ms. Atha, your written statement suggests that you knew little about the events outside the Zaft grounds you were at. This included the lack of updates on your country's state of affairs and even where the place you were at was. For that matter, the people who sheltered you used aliases. True to this extent?"

"Yes."

"Ms. Atha, did you ever ask why?"

"Yes. But I was told that the place was a top military secret and that was why I could not find out where I was. I trusted the people looking after me enough, since I trusted Plant in the first place."

"But Ms. Atha, surely you were justified to demand for updates on the state of your country from time to time?"

"I tried, but they could not tell me very much. It wasn't their fault or choice—the base I was at was apparently very important and no information left or entered it."

"Ms. Atha, who are you referring to when you say 'they'?"

"I refer to Mr. Zala and his aides."

"Ms. Atha, am I correct to say that you knew Mr. Zala despite the alias he probably asked you to address him by?"

She hesitated a bit. "Well, marginally, yes."

"Ms. Atha, please answer the question. Did you know Mr. Zala's name and background specifically when you met him after regaining consciousness?"

"Yes." She could not deny it.

"How did you know this, Ms. Atha?"

She took in a deep breath. "It isn't private information. Most people would have heard something about Mr. Zala."

"Ms. Atha, Mr. Zala was also a friend of your brother's. True?"

"I'm not sure." She was trying to hide the fact that they knew each other, Athrun realized. She had been shaken enough by his encounter with her that she was trying to deny any influence of friendship or anything more that he could have had at all. She was in other words, playing into the scenario that Athrun had planned.

"Is that all, Ms. Atha?"

"I-," She swallowed. "Yes."

Minrofherf raised an eyebrow at her, and then turned to the jury. "I would like to draw Your Honour's and the respectable members of the jury's attention to page eighty-two of the bundle of authorities. Ms. Atha, please turn to that page as well."

A few moments passed as the parties looked at the thick file before them.

"Ms. Atha, can you tell us when this photograph was taken?"

She felt nausea rise in her as she stared at a picture of Kira, Lacus, Athrun and herself smiling with the background of the sea behind them. She knew exactly when this had been, for she had been Lacus' maid-of-honour and Athrun had served as Kira's best man after the First War. The informal wedding had been a tiny, simple affair at the orphanage by the sea, and her brother and Lacus had exchanged their vows without any fanfare and in their simple, Sunday best attire. It had been a vastly different event from that of the massive, complex ceremony that nearly everyone had been invited to after the Second War.

"I don't know." She said quietly. "I can't remember."

"Ms. Atha, do you know where this photograph was retrieved?"

She did know. She had not liked going to the fireplace in Lacus' home precisely because of its presence. "I—I don't know."

"Ms. Atha, this was taken from Ms. Clyne's photograph collection that was on display in her living room. You have seen it before and frequently, given that you must have visited your brother's home many times in the past. True?"

She was trapped. "Not true. I don't really visit my brother's home."

"But you must have seen this photograph before." The prosecutor pressed.

"I have a vague recollection of this, yes."

"Ms. Atha, Ms. Clyne's photographs that she displayed in her home were of significant, personal value to her. She herself has admitted so. Those include photographs of her father, her husband, her close friends, and of course, you. This photograph should not, logically, be of any difference—and by extension, the subjects of this photograph."

Cagalli looked at the copy of the photograph. They had looked so happy then.

"Ms. Atha, returning to the question at hand, you said you knew Mr. Zala marginally, since he was your brother's friend. In this situation, given the proof and the deductions that we can make, you knew Mr. Zala's background and identity on a far more intimate level than the average person who reads newspapers. True?"

"I suppose so." She said grudgingly.

"Not just that, Ms. Atha, you would have recognized Mr. Zala even after this indeterminate time when the photograph was taken. This is because you were introduced to him by your brother. True?"

"No." Cagalli looked a bit ill. "My brother has many friends—I don't know all of them."

"Of course," Minrofherf said softly. "But Mr. Zala, Ms. Atha, was someone far more familiar to you than what you claim. Am I correct to say this?"

"No," She slowly. "That isn't true."

"Then, Ms. Atha, can you explain why Mr. Zala served as your bodyguard after the First War?"

She nearly crumbled but Marlin gave her a quick stare and she tilted her chin defiantly, not willing to disappoint him more than she already had. "I have nearly twenty bodyguards with me at any time, Mr. Minrofherf. I am afraid I do not take notice of all of them or know everybody's name."

"No, Ms. Atha, but Mr. Zala was living in your estate, as Mr. Ledonir Kisaka has testified."

She held her voice steady. "So did the other bodyguards and gardeners and servants until after the Second War ended. I do not recognize most of them or see them for most part—they live in the servants' quarters, not my own, even if it is the same estate. Those I hire don't come as close as you would think."

Minrofherf frowned. "But Ms. Atha, you would have recognized Mr. Zala, given that you had met him during the First War through your brother. And as this picture shows, were on a rather familiar basis with him."

"Yes," Cagalli admitted. "But I'm afraid that I was no more familiar with him before and after I left the place I was recuperating in for these months. I do not know him anymore than what the average person on the street would know of Mr. Zala."

"Your Honour," The defense representing Athrun was on his feet, "This pointless line of questioning has gone on for far too long. Establishing that Ms. Atha and Mr. Zala were on good terms would not suggest an explanation as to how Mr. Zala got hold of the details of the seal. As it is, Ms. Atha has already established that the servants lived in different quarters from her own, and that even a bodyguard was not likely to hear of her seal's details from her. Mr. Zala could not have known the details of the seal, even if he knew that there was one."

But the attorney need not have bothered.

"I'm done here with questioning, Your Honour." Minrofherf sat down.

"The defense sees no need to question Ms. Atha's testimony that Mr. Zala could not have gotten information about the seal's details, Your Honour." The defense chose not to do cross-examination.

Minrofherf had not seemed to want to push for more ways of establishing a situation where Athrun could have requested such information, and Athrun was quite sure that Cagalli would not let on that she had been in a precise situation where more than information was accessible to Athrun. The jury mumbled amongst itself, for it seemed that it was unlikely for Athrun to have gotten the details of the seal, which would prove detrimental to any chance of incriminating him.

But Athrun saw that Minrofherf was smiling.

* * *

The next person to be called to the stand was Lent Mortimer.

Minrofherf opened with his statement. "Your Honour and respectable members of the jury, the question at hand is not who wrote those letters. Given Ms. Atha's testimony that she did not write those, those letters may have been written by anyone at any point."

He paused significantly, looking confidently at every jury member. Athrun could see that they were hanging on his every word; members of an orchestra that Minrofherf was conducting. "But it is what they were accompanied by that matters. It is the recreated seal that convinced Mr. Yamato and the Orb Parliament that Ms. Atha was alive, amongst other more significant things. It is this seal that the jury must turn its attention to—how could such a secret object have its details divulged to Mr. Zala in the first place? Hence, the prosecution calls on Mr. Mortimer, Mr. Zala's former colleague, to testify."

Lent took the stand, looking highly uncomfortable in the stiff suit and without the glasses that had been confiscated by the bailiffs in charge of security. Those glasses could record and do rather extraordinary things, and it was quite natural that he could not wear those here.

"Mr. Mortimer, you were asked by Mr. Zala some time in the third month of Ms. Atha's stay to recreate a seal. True?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Mortimer, when Mr. Zala asked for this to be recreated, did you know that it was Ms. Atha's personal seal?"

Lent thought of what the Numbers had insisted on him testifying. "No. That's not true—he came up with a design and asked me to make it."

"Mr. Mortimer, did you never think to ask what it was for?" Minrofherf was obviously trying to lead Lent into divulging that Athrun had made some kind of false representation as to what the seal was supposed to be.

"Your Honour!" The defense for Athrun was on his feet. "I must raise an objection to that. I cannot allow Mr. Mortimer to face pointed questions."

"Your Honour," Minrofherf insisted, "This is a key question for understanding Mr. Mortimer's state of mind and perhaps even what Mr. Zala induced of it!"

"You will answer the question, Mr. Mortimer." The judge told them.

"I never asked because I was so sure that it was a decorative gift." Lent kept his voice steady. He watched the prosecutor frown a little. "I didn't even consider asking my colleague what it was for when it seemed very obvious that it was a decorative item."

The prosecutor paused and Athrun knew that he was changing his tactics.

"Mr. Mortimer, you made the seal. True?"

"Yes." Lent was very still.

"Mr. Mortimer, how did you gain the expertise of doing so?"

"I used to work in weapons-development in Zaft."

"I assume you were rather good at what you did?" Minrofherf said testily.

"I wouldn't say that. It was a matter of experience, that's all."

"And how does one create a seal from a two-dimensional design?"

"Your Honour," The defense for Athrun was jumping in, so excited that he could not even phrase his thoughts properly. Athrun half-wondered if the jury was biased towards Athrun by insisting he have this particular person to represent him and botch things up even more. "This is a pointless line of questioning and-,"

"Overruled. Mr. Mortimer, you will answer the prosecution's question."

"Usually, one has to make a mould before the steel is poured in. The mould is carved from material that is strong enough to withstand the heat of liquid metal."

"Would you say that the process is a very detailed one?"

"Yes. The person making the seal has to be careful about the carving and the individual strokes and different depths of the design."

The prosecutor smiled a little, and Lent knew that he had been caught already.

"Mr. Mortimer, did you have assistance in making the seal?"

"Yes. My aides control the fires."

"Very good, Mr. Mortimer. So even when your aides were merely stoking the fires, they were able to see the end result; at very least. True?"

Lent thought about Tequila's joy at seeing the pretty shape. "True."

"Are your aides in the habit of voicing their opinions, Mr. Mortimer?"

"It depends on what the opinion and what the situation is."

"Well, Mr. Mortimer, do your aides comment on the things you create?"

"Generally, yes."

"Then Mr. Mortimer," Minrofherf raised his voice a little. "You must have noticed one key aspect of the seal, given your experienced and meticulous way of making it. And even if you did not for some unimaginable reason, your aides would have commented on the unique quality. I refer the court to the sample of the seal that the investigators obtained from Ms. Atha's safe in her house."

"Prosecution," One member from the Earth Alliance side spoke up, "Do we have a sample of the seal that arrived with the letters?"

"I apologise to the respectable member of the jury." Minrofherf said. "The seals that came with the letters had to be broken each time, and those have long been discarded. However, two out of three of the respectable jury members from Orb have seen this recreated seal that was stamped in wax and accompanied each letter."

The judge nodded. "I assure the others that your learned fellow members of the jury have testified that the wax was stamped with the same components as Ms. Atha's."

"Carry on then, prosecution." The judge said.

"I would like to draw the jury and Your Honour's attention to the inner circle of the seal's design." There were murmurs everywhere as Minrofherf turned back to Lent.

"Mr. Mortimer, you have said that you were specifically involved with a detailed process of creating a seal; of which, a design was supplied by Mr. Zala. During this time, you believed it to be a decoration rather than of any significance, in absence of Mr. Zala's express explanation for why he needed this. True?"

Lent took a deep breath in, sensing Yzak Joule's eyes boring into him. "Yes."

"Then, Mr. Mortimer," The prosecutor said triumphantly. "You would have noticed the name, or at very least, the inversed letters that would show up when you tested the seal. True?"

The people in the courtroom began to talk amongst themselves, but Lent shook his head. "I don't deny that! It is precisely because I saw a name that I thought it was a present for Ms. Atha, who was treated as a guest of sorts on Zaft territory."

"It is interesting that you assume that Ms. Atha and Mr. Zala were on sufficiently good conditions for him to give her a gift." Minrofherf noted. "Mr. Mortimer, did you ever consider that this supposed gift was never shown to Ms. Atha?"

"No."

"Then, Mr. Mortimer, did you ever suspect that it was used to establish a kind of communication with Orb that led Mr. Yamato to direct the troops unlawfully into Sweden?"

"Never." Lent said firmly. "I have already said that I always thought it would be a decorative item and used for nothing more than taking up space." He began to push up his glasses as a matter of habit, but found none there. The truth was that Lent was uncomfortable at the lies that his superiors had asked him to tell. "I did not think that my colleague would do such a thing—such a thought never occurred to me. I did not know that Ms. Atha had a seal and that its details were thus."

"Still, Mr. Mortimer, you were allowed to be put under the impression that this was a gift for Ms. Atha. True?"

"True."

"Then, Mr. Mortimer, you would have believed, or had been led to believe two things. First, you believed that Mr. Zala had come up with the design himself. Secondly, you believed that Mr. Zala and Ms. Atha were sufficiently amicable for one to give a present to another. True?"

Lent thought about Sheba and Sanders. He thought about the grueling times and the pains that he had experienced on the Isle, and he wondered if he was correct for sticking to his duty. Athrun hadn't, and Athrun was facing this. But unlike Athrun, Lent had nothing else in his life except his duty, and it was duty that anchored him to this world. And he made his decision there and then. "True."

"Thank you, Your Honour and respectable members of the jury." Minrofherf said. He allowed himself a small smile yet again. "No further questions for now."

"Your cross-examination, defense."

"Thank you, Your Honour." The defense stood up and faced Lent, with all the intention of breaking down his testimony. "Mr. Mortimer, how long have you worked with Mr. Zala?"

"Nearly seven years now."

"I see. Mr. Mortimer, would you say that Mr. Zala offers information about himself as a forthcoming person?"

"No. As far as my impression goes, Mr. Zala is almost introverted."

"Then, Mr. Mortimer, does Mr. Zala make friends easily?"

"I wouldn't say so. He was very professional with his colleagues, but as to friendship—," Mortimer trailed off and it was enough to establish his point.

"Then Mr. Mortimer, it would be an illogical assumption that Mr. Zala, who was introverted and did not make friends easily, was on suitably good terms with Ms. Atha to give her a token of friendship. True ?"

"Like I said," Lent said a bit impatiently, "He didn't make friends easily, but it's not impossible. For that matter, the seal had her name, so that's why I thought it was a gift for her."

"Even if we accept that, Mr. Mortimer, Mr. Zala never made such a representation to you. True?"

"Yes."

Athrun could see what the defense was trying to do, and it seemed to be going pretty well. He stole a glance at Cagalli and saw her relaxing a little. If friendship between them could not be proven, it was unlikely that anything else could be.

"Then, Mr. Mortimer, I would be correct to say that Mr. Zala never gave you the impression that he was on good terms with Ms. Atha. Rather, it was the basic design of the seal he asked you to make that you got this impression."

"Well—," Lent paused. "Yes."

"By extension, Mr. Mortimer, I would be correct to say that anything you believed to be pertaining to good terms between your colleague and Ms. Atha was just your own interpretation of ultimately baseless impressions."

"Maybe not as baseless as you make it sound, but overall, yes."

The defense smiled. "Your Honour, clearly, Mr. Mortimer was not led by Mr. Zala to believe that the seal was a gift, or as the prosecution tried to infer, that Mr. Zala and Ms. Atha were on good terms at all. For that simple reason, Your Honour and respectable members of the jury, Mr. Zala could not have obtained details of the seal because there was no goodwill or trust between them both in the first place. Any such indication was merely an impression tat Mr. Mortimer has admitted to having, despite any express details from Mr. Zala."

"But Your Honour and respectable members of the jury," Minrofherf was on his feet. Athrun knew he had been holding back all his objections, simply because the defense had played right into his hands. "That is precisely my point." He turned to look at Athrun, and he was smiling. "Given the lack of friendship or any particular goodwill between Mr. Zala and Ms. Atha, Mr. Zala did not and could not persuade Ms. Atha to reveal the details of her seal."

"Then how do you suggest Mr. Zala got the details of her seal, if that is what you are claiming he had to instigate Mr. Yamato into leading troops into Scandinavia?" The judge demanded.

"Why, through threats and the use of physical violence, Your Honour."

Minrofherf smiled indulgently, continuing with his voice raised above the growing murmurs of those present. "The prosecution calls upon Ms. Atha to testify in hopes that she will take this opportunity to amend her testimony. The prosecution hopes she can testify as to how she received the injuries on her person on the day she was found at the Palace, and what formed the basis of her urgent need to escape the Zaft vessel that was headed to Orb in the first place."

"Ms. Atha, you suffered a broken arm and a side injury caused by a blade. True?"

"True."

"Ms. Atha, as far as your claims extend up to this point, Harraldsson caused those injuries in the confusion of your entering his room. But the circumstances of these are unclear, with no proof for it, even if there is no proof that he did not. It is on your word alone that this is suggested. Can you tell us again, if this is true, how Harraldsson attacked you?"

She said in a whisper. "I—I don't remember."

"Ms. Atha," The judge said gently, "Please don't be frightened in this court. We are only concerned with the truth. The media has not been let into this, and human frailty is to be expected from anybody at any point."

"Your Honour and good men and women of the jury," Minrofherf said loudly, injecting a great deal of sympathy into his voice. "I ask you not to focus on Ms. Atha's fear—," He paused, knowing that he had drawn attention to her hesitation even more, "Nor her inability to answer directly."

It was too late for Athrun or the defense to stop Minrofherf's tactic. The jury was already looking at her limp figure, her pale face and her broken arm.

"But for the sake of Ms. Atha and the unspeakable grievances she may have suffered, I ask you to think of only the truth and the circumstances at hand. Think not of Ms. Atha's past as the undoubtedly competent person she was with her parliament, but think of who she ultimately is. Ms. Atha was kept a captive, even if in supposedly hospitable circumstances. I ask you to think back to her dogged insistence that she had been treated well even when she was first called to testify. Was it merely for the sake of international relations that she spoke out about the treatment that she had received and the lengths she went to this?"

Minrofherf was pacing, using rhetoric and various elements in a way that Athrun had never expected. "As jury members, no, as fellow humans," His voice rang with righteousness, "I ask you to consider Ms. Atha's vulnerability with regards to the strain of her emotional, mental and physical state while in captivity."

"Are you claiming that Zaft mistreated her, prosecutor?" Yzak Joule suddenly spoke up, his voice tight with anger. The other members of Plant on the jury nodded unhappily, and suddenly the courtroom was talking and pointing indiscreetly. One member of the Orb portion of the jury leapt to his feet, saying loudly, "I don't believe she was treated well at all!"

Suddenly, there was someone diving at Yzak Joule's throat and Yzak punched and a groan was heard in the air. The jury members were fighting amongst themselves.

The judge was banging his gavel and screaming for order in the court, and it took a few minutes before the jury was seated and the troublemaker who'd tried to hit Yzak was back in his seat with a bleeding mouth.

"I understand that national sentiments are important," The judge said wearily. "But this courtroom cannot be a circus. Prosecution, you will substantiate your claims or drop them."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Minrofherf had watched the unfolding chaos with a little smirk on his face, and now he turned back to the jury. "Forgive me if I have insinuated more than what is just, respectable members of the jury. It was never my intention. Rather, the prosecution would like to highlight the fact that Mr. Zala was the sole Intelligencer who had custody of Ms. Atha, as Ms. Atha has established. Furthermore, the Intelligence Council of Plant has established that Mr. Zala will face charges of insubordination and acting willfully with the misuse of his powers back in the Plants, and the prosecution submits that it is highly likely that Mr. Zala abused his powers in a situation where he had custody of Ms. Atha."

"Are you still insinuating that the Intelligence Council allowed physical abuse, as you claim, to happen to Ms. Atha?" Yzak was pale with rage.

"No, Head General Joule," Minrofherf was quick to qualify the case theory that he had been forwarding. A little drama had gotten his point, but anymore would make it seem more controversial than probable. "If it did happen, then it could not be in the control of Mr. Zala's employers to prevent this, given that reasonable employers would trust their employees enough—particularly someone of Mr. Zala's experience and excellent track record with Zaft."

What was this? Athrun wondered. When they wanted to paint him in a bad light, his history of a double defection had been brought up. When they wanted to show that he had cunningly misused his authority, his record was suddenly a stellar one. It was hypocritical and inconsistent, and it was precisely what nobody spoke out against.

"In any case, Your Honour," Minrofherf continued, keen to get on with his point, "Ms. Atha cannot prove that Harraldsson inflicted those injuries on her. These are grave injuries, Your Honour, and it is unlikely for Pietre Harraldsson to inflict these on Ms. Atha, particularly because Orb would be expecting her to arrive home unscathed, as Scandinavia was supposed to achieve."

"Objection, Your Honour!" The defense stood up. "The prosecution keeps accusing Mr. Zala of threatening and hurting Ms. Atha as a means of obtaining the seal's details from her, but there is no proof to suggest this!"

"No, Your Honour!" The prosecutor shook his head. "I was getting there. Ms. Atha has expressed great hesitation as to how Harraldsson inflicted injuries on her. Beyond that, she took great pains to escape the Zaft vessel she woke up in—even though it was headed towards Orb."

"She has already claimed it was due to confusion!" The defense butted in, going quite wild with excitement. Athrun wondered if the defense had been hired to do him in.

"Your turn for cross-examination will come," The judge cut in irritably. "Carry on, prosecution."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Minrofherf nodded. "Why would Ms. Atha ever be confused as to her waking up on a vessel, if she had been so well treated by the person she was in custody of? Why would Ms. Atha fight so hard to get to Sweden and specifically Sweden, where she made it clear that she thought only of getting to the palace? And why would she require weapons and carry them with her as if she was being pursued; and why would she need help from Pietre Harraldsson and why would she even require it at all?"

Minrofherf searched the faces of the jury members, seeing doubt, apprehension and even pity rise up in their faces as they looked at the silent Cagalli. "For one reason, respectable men and women of the jury. Ms. Atha was being abused by Mr. Zala to the point that she divulged details of a seal that caused the damage we face today."

"Ms. Atha, I would like you to revisit your previous testimony on how you escaped the Zaft vessel. Did you know it was a Zaft vessel that you were on?"

"Yes."

"Then Ms. Atha, did you know you were headed back to Orb?"

She paused. "I guess I did consider that. But I was confused."

"How did you get out of that vessel?"

"I heard a nearby ship and I opened a window in the room I was in and saw other boats and the like. I left the room because it was unlocked. A smaller yacht was next to the ship, and I could climb over from the rails and get onto it."

"Ms. Atha," the prosecutor was looking at her carefully. "Do you remember the details of this Zaft vessel you say you woke up and found yourself on, and where you abandoned it?"

She hesitated, for it had not even existed. "Not really. I didn't look around much."

"But you mentioned that you saw other boats, including the yacht you took control of, at the point when you woke up. This means you were probably at a point where vessels where headed to. True?"

True."

"Then, Ms. Atha, even if the investigation team was unable to locate this Zaft vessel, you say that you took control of another yacht by climbing over the rails and getting to the yacht that incidentally happened to be so close."

"Yes." She said nervously.

"Ms. Atha, were there any people on board the yacht?"

She hesitated, knowing that she was bound to make some kind of contradiction here. "I don't think so."

"But Ms. Atha, the yacht you got onto had to be headed somewhere! Surely, it wasn't a ghost piloting that yacht?"

"I don't know. There wasn't anyone in the control room."

"Ms. Atha, this yacht seemed to be a civilian one, as far as the investigation team could infer from its interior and operating system. Can you describe the path you took when you say you got to the control room and found nobody there?" He handed her a map and a pen

"I-," She swallowed, and then drew her path on it. Minrofherf took it and slid it under a projector and the court and jury looked at the path she had drawn.

"This means, Ms. Atha, that you were travelling along the left side of the yacht, approximately this way." He placed a series of photographs on the projector. "I refer the jury to page twelve of the bundle of authorities."

She looked at the panel of photographs marking out her trail, not really understanding its significance.

"Ms. Atha, you would have passed by this spot," He gestured to where a pile of rope lay on the deck. "Where a rescue boat would have been. Upon your getting onto this yacht from a vessel you claimed you were on, you would have then seen a rescue boat here."

She went cold with fear. There hadn't been a rescue boat on the yacht—Athrun had used it. "Th-There wasn't any!"

"I am afraid that is impossible, Ms. Atha," The prosecution said coolly. "All yachts must be equipped with at least one rescue boat as part of safety procedures."

"Maybe it was being used at that time," She said shakily. "Maybe that's why there weren't ay people I met on board. Maybe they used it and were out fishing or something."

"That is possible," Minrofherf agreed. His lip curled. "But more probable than that, Ms. Atha, is that you were never on any vessel except the yacht in the first place. If you only passed through this path, as you claimed with this map, then it would not explain the presence of your hair in this room-," He pointed to the map where the other side of the yacht had a particular room. "The investigation team found traces of your blood in this room, which you must have been in at some point."

Her face turned pale. Had they found and identified Athrun's presence in that room as well? But the prosecutor did not say more than this. He carried on. "The prosecution submits that if Ms. Atha had indeed been on a Zaft vessel and had escaped to this apparently civilian yacht, then she would have not been in this room-," He pointed at the photograph of a place that Cagalli recognized as the room she and Athrun had been in—the same room with the bed that he'd bound her in, "At any one point."

"I'm sorry," Cagalli broke in wildly, "I think it was on the other side of the yacht that I was at. Maybe it looks similar—," She paused, shaking her head. "I was in that room. Yes."

"That is logical, Ms. Atha," Minrofhef said sympathetically, although his eyes were glinting. "Then Ms. Atha, can you explain why there were traces of your blood on a pillow in that room?"

She could remember why. She'd fallen down when she had tried to run from Athrun, and she'd scrapped her knees because the floor had been slippery from the rain and she'd had a bad stumble. She must have bled a little on those sheets when she'd lain in them after that. She thought of how she'd dug her nails into Athrun's shoulders and for a second, she thought the game was up.

"Ms. Atha," The prosecutor continued, "There were no other traces of anything significant in that room, but surely, the presence of your blood is important? How did it land up there?"

She continued with great difficulty. "I hurt my knees before that. A minor scratch, but I guess it bled a little."

"So Ms. Atha, you admit that you were on that yacht, there was no Zaft vessel that you were on before that, and that you did have some physical injury on you at that time." Minrofherf said this slowly.

She could not disagree. She looked at Marlin, who nodded just ever so slightly at her, and she said shakily, "Yes."

"Why did you feel a need to testify that you had been on a Zaft vessel that you'd escaped from before that, Ms. Atha?"

She bit her lips. "I don't know. I just-," She shook her head. "I didn't even know whether I was on a Zaft vessel or not when I woke up on that yacht." She looked at the jury and saw that their expressions had hardened. They were not looking at her but at Athrun.

"Your Honour," Minrofherf spoke, "The prosecution submits that Ms. Atha's inconsistent testimony is precisely the end result of the abuse she suffered. Ms. Atha undoubtedly had a physical injury at that time," He paused, directing the jury's eyes to Cagalli's arm, "And that was why she was so nervy and found a need to protect herself by taking the gun and knife that she found in the control room."

"Your Honour, the prosecution further submits that the injuries found on her when she was at the Winter palace were injuries she had prior to her encounter with Harraldsson, and that she sought Harraldsson because she was afraid that the vessel would be heading where Mr. Zala was."

"Objection!" The defense for Athrun was on his feet. "That contradicts every single testimony that we've heard from the guards at the palace!"

"I'm afraid, Your Honour, that those were unreliable from the start; particularly when the fighting broke out." Minrofherf spoke. "Ms. Atha's own defense counsel so saliently proved that the guards have perhaps some interest that colours their perception of events and their testimonies."

"Overruled. Prosecution, continue."

"Your Honour and respectable members of the jury," Minrofherf looked almost relaxed now. "Ms. Atha has suffered enough. I only ask that the truth be brought to light as to how Mr. Zala obtained the all-important details of her seal. Those details are what convinced the Orb Parliament to do as what the letters asked, and those details were taken from Ms. Atha against her will. She has suffered. Let her suffer no more." He looked diffidently at the judge, knowing that the jury had bought his case. "No further questions."

The defense got onto his feet. His hands were trembling a little, and Athrun was afraid for him.

"Ms. Atha, did Mr. Zala ever threaten you?"

She thought of the cuff that she had thrown into the water, glancing sideways at Athrun. And for all she had set her mind to doing, she was glad he would not be implicated more than he already was. "No."

"Objection, Your Honour! It is unlikely for Ms. Atha to be able to answer that question in Mr. Zala's presence. Your Honour, if Ms. Atha has indeed suffered, which is likely to be the case, such a line of questioning would be pointless!"

"Sustained. Defense, I ask that you question while keeping in mind the delicate state Ms. Atha is in."

"Dutifully, Your Honour. I apologise." The defense looked even less prepared to question Cagalli. "Ms. Atha, how would you describe the state of the yacht when you got to the control room?"

"It was empty," She hesitated. "Nobody seemed to be on it. I directed it against its path without much difficulty."

"Ms. Atha, given Mr. Zala's role as an intelligencer and the person who had custody over you, would you say he was careful?"

"I suppose so. He did not let me leave the place."

"Then, Ms. Atha, did you suppose that he had been so careless that day as to let you maneuver the yacht to wherever you pleased?"

"It's not impossible." She said softly.

"Ms. Atha, would you describe it as characteristic of Mr. Zala as an intelligencer to be so careless?"

"I'm not sure he was being careless. I've been told that on that day, I was meant to return to Orb anyway. Maybe that's why he didn't really care that I could do whatever I pleased."

The defense seemed to be facing yet another dead end. He shook his head. "No further questions."

Athrun looked at Yzak and saw that Yzak was gripping his pen so hard, it looked almost ready to break.

When the defense was asked to question Athrun, Athrun took a look at his face and knew that it would be to no avail. The defense stumbled, unable to establish anything convincing for Athrun that Athrun had not abused his power of custody. Some part of him felt sorry for his representative, for Athrun knew that the young defense attorney was trying his best when it was simply not possible to save Athrun.

And when Minrofherf took over, Athrun knew it was over. Even before he began answering the prosecution's questions, he found himself wondering why he had to go down in a manner that Athrun knew was entirely false. He hadn't threatened her for the details—he had done everything for her knowing that he would face a day like this; all because he had chosen those months with Cagalli rather than what Plant had promised him.

"Mr. Zala, you have established that you knew Ms. Atha had a personal seal. True?"

"Yes."

"How did you know this, Mr. Zala?"

"It is rather common knowledge that the Head of States have personal seals that only they know the details of."

"Nobody in this court will dispute that, Mr. Zala. But specifically, you knew what Ms. Atha's seal's details were, given that you produced a design for your colleague to recreate True?"

There was no way around it. But as Athrun studied the cold faces of those before him, he decided that he had nothing to lose anyway. There was only one person he wanted to protect, and he could do it even if he went down right here. "True."

"Mr. Zala, how did you obtain the design that Mr. Mortimer eventually relied on to create a seal that you had asked for?"

His mouth went dry. "I asked her to draw it out and I recreated it."

"And Ms. Atha agreed without question, Mr. Zala?"

Athrun did not dare to look at Cagalli for fear that the jury would sense his thoughts. But if he had, he would have seen that her eyes were downcast and staring at a low angle even if her chin was defiant and stubbornly tilted. It was a good thing that Athrun was keeping every spectator's eyes on him and thus detracted potential attention from her.

She had first made the offer. She had offered him money- the memory made him laugh- in exchange for the location of the town on the Isle. He had needed the seal from her- he asked for it rather than money. Money was a poor thing to offer.

He knew why Cagalli couldn't speak up and say that he had done everything, including take the blame for Harraldsson's death, for her sake. That would mean exposing why Athrun would even try to protect her, and Athrun could see her fears that it would not be as easy as to explain that it is a matter of duty to the courts. After all, the Eyes had already made enough preparation to ensure she would be safe. Even arguing that he had shot to protect her was in the heat of the moment would not work unless she revealed that he was already protective of her as they were lovers.

He knew that she was afraid to throw everything away and tell the world that because it was risky to herself. He had always known that and played on that fact when she'd come to him, telling him that she would tell the courts of their relationship and try to protect him. He'd given her a reason to mistrust him—he'd pushed her in the opposite direction. Now, he had confirmed her fears. What would everyone think of a woman who was involved with her captor and someone like Athrun Zala, no less?

He knew that. He had wanted precisely this. But why did it hurt to so much to see her silent with her eyes cast down and Marlin's arm around her?

"Answer the question please, Mr. Zala!" The prosecutor said firmly- almost viciously. "Did Ms. Atha give you the details of the seal?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Zala, Ms. Atha was very explicit about establishing that she did not know you very well at all. You were at best, an acquaintance that she recognized by face and name and little more than that. True?"

His heart ached. "True. But I obtained the details regardless of any lack of friendship."

"Mr. Zala, how could you have made any attempt to convince Ms. Atha to give you details of her seal, especially since you were both not in a relationship of any trust?"

"We agreed that Orb was behaving rashly and on nationalistic sentiments. If she didn't reach out to it and stop it from storming Scandinavia, Orb could potentially damage its relations with the Earth Alliance." Athrun said. He breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. The prosecutor looked disgruntled. He stole a glance at Cagalli. She was not looking at him. She was staring at Marlin instead. He felt sickened, and looked away.

"Mr. Zala, you both reached that conclusion and Ms. Atha made an express wish to contact Orb through her brother in this way. True?"

"True."

"Mr. Zala, am I right to say that Ms. Atha trusted you not to misuse her seal when sending a letter for her?"

"Objection, Your Honour! This line of questioning assumes Mr. Zaa had already misused her seal—," The defense sputtered.

"Overruled."

"Answer the question, Mr. Zala! Did Ms. Atha trust you not to misuse her seal?"

"Yes."

"But again, Mr. Zala, I am afraid that Ms. Atha has testified that she does not know you more than beyond the fact that you were her brother's friend. Her acquaintance with you was a matter of circumstance rather than any clear friendship. You say that she agreed to give up these details without any convincing on your part, but the prosecution submits that the only way this could ever happen was that you persuaded her to by talking about Orb's best interests."

"No!" Athrun's voice rose.

"But Mr. Zala, at very least, you gave her notice of Orb's situation. By her testimony and your colleagues', the rules on the grounds were that no information was supposed to be given for the purposes of maintaining the highly secret, confidential nature of the place. True?"

"True." There was no way to disagree.

"So for her to know that-," The prosecutor said slowly, "She needed to have information from outside. This contradicts what you previously said. Moreover, Mr Zala, you were the primary person who had custody of Ms. Atha, and your aides were expressly forbidden to tell her of where she was or what was going on. True?"

"True." Athrun had no choice.

"Your Honour," Minrofherf said, "I put it to this court that Mr. Zala did not have to actively persuade Ms. Atha to give up the information that inevitably influenced Mr. Yamato's decision. Mr. Zala had the advantage of information that Ms. Atha would have benefitted from not having, and yet he defied his orders and gave her that information while fully knowing that she had a seal with details she was likely to divulge to him because of her concern for Orb.

"She guessed what Orb was likely to do." Athrun said evenly. "It doesn't take a genius to guess that."

"But even if we accept that, Mr. Zala," the prosecutor said cuttingly, "For her to trust you with such powerful details of this seal would be an unimaginable, almost illogical thing, given her testimony that she knew you only as her brother's friend."

He looked at Cagalli, knowing how they'd made that contract. She was trembling a little and her eyes were focused on the floor.

"It seemed wise to prevent Orb from entering Sweden then." Athrun said softly, trying to control the way his heart was beating.

"Even if we take it that she had, Mr. Zala," the prosecutor was smiling now. "That is not the same thing as saying that Ms. Atha willingly gave you details of her seal and had you use them in letters that she claims she did not write. Frankly, it is difficult to believe that she would write those herself, given that those led to a very unsavoury state of affairs for her country and Scandinavia. It would defy logic as to why she would write such letters. And even if she wrote letters, it would be impossible to send them without your co-operation. In fact, it would be impossible for her to think of writing them if she did not have specific information about the events outside the training ground. She was not supposed to have any information. Your position was that of an intelligencer with very strict orders not to let information pass out of the training grounds. Your interest was primarily not in your duties, but in causing Mr. Yamato to act as he did. True?"

He swallowed. "Not true."

It was the truth. He had never considered sending the first and second letter to convince Kira that Cagalli was alive, let alone the third letter to direct Kira's actions. He had known what the letters' effects would be, but it had only been possible for him to send the letters because of his weakness. He had no interest in the politics beyond the Isle, or Cagalli's true interests when she'd begged him to send letters for her. His only interest had been her—

"Then what, Mr. Zala, was your interest when you defied orders and did something that had such foreseeable, negative impacts on Orb and Scandinavia's relations?"

Cagalli was sitting in that chair, her shoulders limp and her face blank, Marlin's arm around her shoulders. In that moment, Athrun doubted his ability and will to protect her. He could tell the court what she really meant to him; how he'd chosen to shoot Harraldsson for her, and that he'd always been involved with her. That way, he would establish their true relationship and be able to plead that in his circumstances, she'd been the one who'd induced him to send those letters rather than what this court was believing- that he'd persuaded her to get her brother to wage war on Scandinavia. He'd have his defense, and for once, she would understand what it felt like to be defenseless.

"Please answer the question, Mr. Zala. What was your interest in giving her information, even if it is true that it was Ms. Atha who asked you to contact her brother?"

"I-," He felt his throat go dry.

Cagalli's head snapped up, and her face was ashen.

He could say it. He could tell them how he had earned her, little by little, and then how she'd given herself to him and asked him to make love to her, how madly they'd been in love all over again. He could tell all those present how they'd been fools to leave each other for the war, and how badly he wanted to keep her by his side. Her entire testimony would be discredited, and so would the evidence against him in many ways.

He had given up his freedom for her. If he exposed how she'd tempted him, created opportunities for him to have access to her body in exchange for that top-secret information, then the blame would be on her. In the best case scenario, she would be blamed entirely. In the worst case, they would take equal blame.

He could pour every potentially vile thought from his head into this court, through his mouth. He could tell them how she'd enticed him and tempted him. He had done anything but hurt her. He was sure of that. With him, she had behaved like an animal in heat for him. God, no. If anything, she had forced herself on him.

He could say it. If he went down, he could take her down with him. That would be fair- that would injure her no more than she had ruined him. The jury would stare at her- look at the fair Orb Princess and see her as what she was in bed, a whore, his whore, the only thing that had sustained him for seven years, the only thing he'd thrown everything away for despite his freedom being so close at hand.

He parted his lips to speak. Her eyes fastened on him, and for a second, it was like they were two dark spots in the mad kaleidoscope of shifting sounds and movements. Her eyes were golden- they were always golden.

But there was pain and a plea in them. In that second, he knew that even if he tried to back out of his plans to protect her at the expense of himself, he would be unable to betray her. He had loved her too much to ever do that, no matter how easy it would be to save himself and not her.

His voice rang out, silencing the courtoom.

"She did not ask me to contact her brother. It was I who could not persuade her to divulge the details of her seal, given our lack of friendship that I shared with her brother. I threatened her until she gave me those details. I forced her to write letters that I dictated."

Minrofherf looked like Christmas had come early. "So you admit your guilt pertaining to the charge of instigating Mr. Yamato to wage war on Scandinavia through obtaining a seal by threat and use of violence on Ms. Atha then, Mr. Zala?"

He began to nod, but suddenly, Cagalli was on her feet. She got up slowly, achingly; as if she'd been bruised all over. He was enraptured by the beauty of her face and the strength in her voice, although it was trembling still, and his voice jammed in his throat even while she found hers. Hers rang out in the air, surprising all those present. "Even if it is not my turn, I would like to speak. It is of utmost importance that I add to what Mr. Zala is saying."

"Your Grace will have your chance if it is relevant to issue at hand." The judge said courteously, even though he seemed unnerved by Athrun's sudden confession and Cagalli's sudden request to speak.

"It is. I'd like to amend my testimony, Your Honour. I beg for you to oblige me even though it is not my turn yet."

The mutters of the jury grew, encouraging those watching to talk amongst themselves too. Athrun stared at her, praying with every fiber of him that she would not do anything foolish against herself.

"You may amend it," The judge nodded. Minrofherf was almost skipping on the spot, and Marlin looked very confident. It was almost obvious that they were expecting her to say tha Athrun had indeed done as he'd confessed. Athrun knew she would—he'd forced her into a state where she believed that he'd wanted nothing more than to use her as a pawn. She would play into the scenario without trying to cover for him now.

But while Athrun waited for her to speak, he thought of what he'd told her the last time that they had made love. He'd asked her to remember all the times that he'd bound her against her will, and he'd asked her to use that against him. His heart weighed him down; a burning stone in the flesh of his body. Well, he couldn't complain about the only outcome that he had arranged for himself through Cagalli.

"Ms. Atha, when you are ready." The judge said patiently.

He waited. The judge and jury waited. Those present in the courtroom waited.

She took in a deep breath, looking very pale but very determined.

"Firstly," She said clearly and very steadily, "I wrote the letters. All of them. I asked Athrun Zala to send those for me. He did not have to persuade me for the details of the seal."

"No!" Minrofherf was shouting even as the courtroom exploded into sound. "How is that possible?"

"Cagalli!" Marlin had leapt to his feet, and his expression was nearly begging her, trying to pull her to sit down. "Your Honour, I'm afraid Ms. Atha is suffering from the after-effects of her trauma and—,"

"I'm not suffering from anything!" Her voice was whiplash; a cry that silenced everything in the courtroom. And she stood rapt, her gaze firm and filled with defiance, her will clear before Athrun. "He never abused me at one point."

"That's not possible!" Minrofherf's voice was cracking from the strain of his shock. "You can't just say anything you like and have no pr—,"

"I'll tell you why it's possible!" Cagalli cut in. She looked directly at the judge. "I was the one who threatened Athrun Zala, Your Honour. I told him that I would kill myself if he did not contact Kira Yamato for me."

She ignored the shouts that were breaking everywhere. "I beg for silence, Your Honour."

He did as she had asked and banged the gavel, although his eyes were protuberant with shock like everyone else's. The Earth Alliance members of the jury were sputtering, and the Scandinavian members pointing and looking very confused as their gazes travelled between the supposed victim and the accused.

Amongst the Plant members of the jury, Yzak was the only one who was keeping very still; the other two were shaking their heads in disbelief. The Orb members had reacted the most drastically—one had her hands to her mouth and the other two were staring with slack jaws at a red-faced Marlin and a pale Cagalli.

Athrun's face too, he was aware, was unguarded and the shock was rippling through every feature. Thankfully, nobody noticed because they were all mostly staring at Cagalli. She made use of this attention as she began to speak, and her voice shook slightly although she balled her fists in a bid to keep her control.

"He could not refuse my request for information and my later requests to send the letters that I'd written when his duty was to keep me alive."

"No," Athrun tried to say. "I was the one—,"

She held up her hand for silence, cutting him off without even a glance at him. "Secondly, I shot Pietre Harraldsson. He had no conspiracy against Harraldsson. Rather, it was I who found a need to protect Athrun Zala when the Danish Liberalist Faction was embroiled in a fight with the Royal guards. I shot Harraldsson at close range. I am capable of that still, despite what was claimed, and I can demonstrate it if the court wishes me to."

Her eyes searched the face of the stunned jury, and they swept across the courtroom, that was in an uproar. For a brief second, her eyes met his, and then she looked away, although her gaze was still steady.

"Do-do you understand the implications of what you are saying?" The judge said weakly. In his elderly and somewhat fragile-looking state, he looked like he was about ot pass out from heart seizure.

She looked at the judge with some pity in her eyes. "Of course. Why else would I say it?"

Once again, the courtroom was embroiled in the sheer volume of those speaking and trying to understand what the hell was even going on. The jury started arguing amongst themselves with the Orb members openly accusing the Plant members of having their Intelligencer threaten the Orb Princess to the point that she thought she was responsible for this state of events.

"That's the kind of scum you employ!" One of them screeched. He thumped his fist hard on the file and then lifted it to smash it on the table. "This is a joke! What do you mean by this, you Plant scum?"

"Who are you calling scum?" Another roared back. "It's your Princess that threatened our Intelligencer!" He stood up as well, and for once, Yzak was the one pulling someone else to sit down. But the other Plant jury member seized the opportunity to dive at the Orb representative.

"I say it's all Orb's fault!"

The Scandinavian members joined in and began arguing that Orb had always known its Princess would go willingly with the Intelligencer who had appeared on the SS Rafael but had blamed Scandinavia for her disappearance.

"That's right! It's a conspiracy they planned, and they wanted us to take the blame! That's why our own High King's dead now! It's their fault in the first place!"

The Earth Alliance was stunned, still trying to get everyone else in the jury to calm down. As it was, utter bedlam had sprung out in the courts and spread over to the spectators. Officials within those watching were shouting allegations at each other and it seemed that the roof would come down in seconds.

The judge was banging the gavel, but nobody bothered. It was too noisy. In the midst of all of the chaos, a signal was given and Cagalli was led away. She did not struggle with the bailiff but followed meekly and almost willingly. Marlin tried to intervene, but Minrofherf strode there, grabbing his arm away from the bailiff's. And as Cagalli was brought away from the stand, she turned, facing Athrun directly. In that moment, he stared at her.

A tiny, wistful smile played on her lips, and he knew what he read in the triumph of her golden eyes.

'I beat you to it.'

"Your Honour! Hear me out!"

There was a mini-commotion at the back of the courtroom. One of the aides who had been called in to give his witness was on his feet, despite the other Plant Intelligencer's efforts to pull him to sit down.

"No," Athrun whispered, horrified. The bailiff who had been about to guide Cagalli off paused, staring as everyone including the judge and jury was. "No, Epstein!"

But Epstein was already speaking. "I'm afraid that what Ms. Atha says about shooting is not possible, Your Honour." He shook his head a little. "Ms. Atha's bullet only grazed Harraldsson's hair. I and Mr. Zala are the witnesses for this. The bullet in the wall is the one that was discharged from Ms. Atha's gun. I was the one who shot into his chest with every intention to kill him. The prosecution has assumed up to this point that there were only two people in the room other than Harraldsson. But I can testify this is not the case. I was the third person present."

"Who is this?" One jury member from the Earth Alliance demanded.

"An aide of Athrun Zala's," Another member told him.

"Your Honour." Epstein caught the question in the silence that had suddenly spread over the courtroom. He stood tall, his face devoid of fear. "I am Erlich Hoffman, alias Epstein Cleamont, subordinate of Athrun Zala, employee of Zaft.

Yzak got to his feet addressing the judge. "Your Honour, I ask that Epstein Cleamont be allowed to admit to his causing grievous hurt in order to protect Ms. Atha from suffering further injuries that Harraldsson had caused her."

"No!" Athrun was shouting and trying to move forward. He lunged violently, pulling his arms forward. But the binds held him in place and nobody heard as the muttering had already become loud chatter. "No, Yzak! You can't! He's not the one who shot-,"

"What on earth is happening?" The judge said in his confusion. "I should hold all of you in contempt of the Galactic Court!"

Yzak ignored Athrun, who was still trying to break free of his binds. Instead, Yzak looked straight at the judge. "Your Honour, I appeal to you to do as I humbly request."

The other members of the jury had yet to turn their gaze away from Epstein. Then someone in the audience began to talk to the person next to him, and it was a sentence with words that nobody could quite make out save for the sound of words in the air. But it was enough.

Suddenly, the jury members were speaking amongst themselves or perhaps, shouting with a great deal of table-banging, and there did not seem to be a way to make silence come. The bailiffs were hollering above the noise, the judge was staring as if he'd been frozen, and the world seemed to have descended into a mad whorl of sound and words that nobody could understand.

The gavel sounded after three minutes. Nobody paid attention to it.

* * *

When Cagalli found her way out of the courtroom and tried to make her way to the car, she found that being guided by the circle of her aides and bodyguards did little to help her. Around them, people were clamoring to get close with their arsenal of pens, notepads and cameras. Some were shouting and begging to know about the progress of the trial, and one got close enough to pull at her.

But as she managed to push her way into the car, she heard the door shut quite securely. Yet, she knew that she was trapped even in here, for she had no other way to change what she'd done.

And she looked at James Marlin, quiet and unable to say anything. In turn, he saw that she was biting her lips to keep from crying. He sat next to her there in the car, and while they waited for Aaron to come and to drive them away, he began to spill the innermost of his secrets to her.

It was a pity, Cagalli thought, that she'd destroyed something in him.

"You disappointed me when it mattered the most." Marlin said brokenly. "We could have started all over again. I could have had you if only you had renounced him first. We could have made this so different."

"The only difference was that he would have been sentenced to death." She said numbly, unmoved by him. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, looking older than she had ever seen him. "No. Don't."

"Marlin-,"

He was backing away, looking pained.

"You got out of this as best as you could possibly have." He told her. "Take it as a gift, Cagalli. I did my best. Even when I wanted to hate you for lying to me, I did my best."

She tried again. "I didn't want to lie to you, Marlin, but I had to."

"I was a fool to lie to myself," He said angrily. He ran a hand over his face, trying not to break down. "The truth was staring right there at me in the face from the moment you asked where Athrun Zala was when you woke up."

Her voice was low and ragged. "To some extent, it was always like that. All these years, he was the only person that I needed or wanted."

Marlin gave a funny, choking sound of unimaginable grief. "I don't want to know anymore."

The thought of her, vulnerable and alone, using the only means she had to gain the upper hand during her kidnap, made him feel a sense of helplessness. Helplessness disgusted him. In that instant, he understood that he had always loved her because of an independence that hadn't quite existed. He had mistaken her as a mercenary person, the kind who did anything to survive; the kind of person who'd been born into a certain class and emanated the power in her blood. He'd respected her for that, loving her for her strength, ambition and her ruthlessness. Deep inside, Marlin knew he could have accepted anything she did or had done- so long as she was trying to escape and return to Orb.

But she had not done everything just so she could leave. She had done it for a very different reason. Staring at Cagalli, he knew what it was.

She loved Athrun Zala. She had always loved him.

In that blinding minute, Marlin had realized that she was weak. He knew she had a weakness and he knew he would not be able to accept that when the weakness was not for him but for another. Cagalli had ended up becoming weak for another person; another person that Marlin would never be able to know or even understand. But Marlin of course, understood now that she could not live alone and apart from the one person she loved the most. Her weakness was Athrun Zala.

She bowed her head. "You've been a friend to me."

"I will always be." Marlin said quietly, his face without the vitality that it had once symbolized, "Nothing less and nothing more."

She watched him turn, open the car door and leave. She couldn't even see him move away from the car, for it seemed that he was swallowed whole by those beyond the glass and metal barriers.

* * *

Court was adjourned for three weeks, and in that time, the facts were revisited and new inquiries opened. In the remand centre, Athrun found that he was quite disorientated by the lack of beatings or interrogation, for nobody seemed to want to extract information from him anymore. Through the hours of his stay, he could see the guards muttering and whispering amongst themselves, but they never attempted to ask him questions, as if they were aware that he would not be able to answer those.

One guard still cursed quietly and under his breath when he came to give Athrun his meals, but none of them ill-treated him. It was all very disconcerting for Athrun, who noted with a great deal of cynicism that not being hit or yelled at was something he hadn't expected from this place at all.

Then Yzak came to visit him, and Athrun noted that Yzak had never looked more tired than before. He was gaunt and appeared to have lost a significant amount of weight during these five days. When he sat down, he seemed to make up for his slighter-looking self by puffing up with the essence of bad temper and glaring at Athrun.

Athrun was the first to speak, and it came out as an apology. "I'm sorry. "

"What for?" Yzak said sharply. "It's not like you didn't keep your promise to me and the Intelligence Council. You never breathed a word about the Isle or its operations, and even now, the court and everyone out there only knows that some secret training ground exists."

Athrun shook his head. "I came close to it at times."

"I admire you for that." Yzak said gruffly. "If you'd revealed the true nature of what you were dealing with, I don't think anybody in the jury would have doubted you or why you turned up in Scandinavia for a second. And that is why I thank you on behalf of the Intelligence Council." He looked at Athrun with a small frown. "They admit that you were very diligent in keeping mum about the Isle's affairs."

"I'm sure they were wetting their pants when I was being questioned." Athrun said calmly. "Whoever my superiors are."

It struck Yzak that even at this point, Athrun did not know the faces of the Numbers except for Yzak's. All this time, Yzak reflected, Athrun had been putting his life in danger for people he did not even know, and duty had compelled him to continue even when he had nothing left to lose and everything to gain by spilling the beans in court.

"Frankly, some of them told me that they were afraid that you would let it out the secrets at some point. It seemed that you didn't have anything left to lose."

Athrun smiled a little. "I promised you I wouldn't spill those secrets in exchange for Cagalli's getting to Scandinavia. I wasn't about to back out on that promise—not to you, anyway."

"I know." Yzak said uncomfortably, knowing that it had been that promise that had caused so much suffering to Athrun from the moment he'd made it. In the remand centre, Athrun had been compelled to keep silent about the secrets, as he had been in court. Yzak had made that promise knowing precisely that Athrun was a man of his word.

"So nobody knows what the place really is or where it is?" Athrun asked unsurely. He had tried his best not to say anything indicating its nature. But he was not sure if he had succeeded in helping Plant maintain that Cagalli Yula Atha had been held in a simple if extremely secret training ground for Zaft.

"Yes. I just ended an urgent meeting with the Chairman and the Intelligence Council. By our estimates, which I daresay is quite accurate, the Isle is going to be abandoned within the next four years. The chairman has made her decision—she agreed that it has to remain a secret, but the Intelligencers we brought in will be pulled out now."

Athrun pursed his lips, saying nothing. He found that he did not have the right to judge those who made the policies and those who had to struggle with their own consciences while making decisions for the greater good.

"I can tell you this, Zala. Eileen Canaver was never for keeping the Isle's operations from continuing." Yzak sighed once. "When she assumed power, she joined the Intelligence Council by default, as all Plant Chairmen do. That didn't mean she agreed with every of our decisions. She was only one out of twelve to influence every decision."

"What do you mean?" Athrun tried to recall the way Eileen Canaver sat quietly amongst the spectators throughout the court trial. As the Chairman and Head of Plant, she could not be amongst the representatives who made up part of the jury. But Athrun understood Eileen Canaver's personality and way of doing things well enough to know that she could get her way if she wanted it enough. "If the Plant chairman is a member of the Intelligence Council, why shouldn't she be able to make the final decision for one council?"

"It doesn't work that way, Zala." Yzak said crossly. "In the Intelligence Council, she's not the head. The Intelligence Council has twelve members, and it needs eight out of twelve positive votes before it embarks on a decision. I can tell you that much."

"And even then," Athrun realized, "This decision and its plans for action must pass through the approval of the Supreme Council, which has currently fourteen members. Of this fourteen, there must be nine who approve of any decision."

"Exactly." Yzak tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. "But specifically for decisions concerning the Isle, these didn't and never went through the Supreme Council."

Athrun knew why. The original Secret Intelligence Council and specifically, the Numbers, had been created and handpicked by Siegel Clyne to manage the Isle without the knowledge of the rest of the Plants, including Siegel Clyne's own Supreme Council.

"When she was obligated to enter the Intelligence Council as a member," Yzak said cynically, "Let's just say she was only one out of twelve. The head of the Intelligence Council was put in charge of telling her about Plant's dirty little secret, and she personally appealed to the Council to stop the Isle's operations."

"That didn't work?"

"She was outvoted, Zala. Even if she was the Chairman of the Plants, the decision was a seven-twelve decision. She needed eight votes, not seven. But frankly, she wasn't the first chairman to be outvoted on that particular decision with regards to the Isle." He shook his head. "Tough luck for her."

"Was she the only chairperson to vote for stopping the Isle's operations?" Athrun asked curiously.

Yzak looked at him with a strange little laugh. "Would you believe that your old man was firmly against safeguarding this particular group of Coordinators?"

Athrun stared at him, silent for a few seconds. "I thought he'd be all for saving Coordinators; even those who were wrong in the first place."

"No," Yzak muttered. "Not so." He stretched a little, cracking his knuckles a bit. "I suppose the decision's a hard one, either way. I entered the Secret Intelligence Council and joined the Numbers after the Second War, whereas some members have been there since Siegel Clyne picked them. They face the same dilemma term after term, never mind their supposed experience and knowledge of the people and the place." He frowned. "Who knows what's right and who deserves to be protected anyway?"

"Yes." Athrun agreed softly.

"As it is, the chairman successfully convinced most of the Intelligence Council to cease the Isle's operations." Yzak looked at Athrun cryptically. "I suppose in light of the recent events, it's quite obvious that we're playing a dangerous game with the world and we should stop for our own good. Besides, it's quite obvious that the Coordinators there aren't exactly reflecting on their past crimes, which is what Siegel Clyne intended for when he chose to protect them."

"That's the sort of person he was," Athrun muttered. "Always believing in the best of people."

"Well, he made his decision." Yzak sounded very tired. "Eileen Canaver's made hers." He began to stretch again, except that he winced. The Zaft uniform that he wore was spotless, as usual, but Athrun suspected that Yzak was really more worn out than his impeccable attire suggested.

"Are you alright, Yzak?" Athrun said concernedly.

"Oh, don't look at me like I'm a delicate little kitten sitting on some prissy cushion. I'm more than fucking good." Yzak said brusquely, ignoring the way Athrun's eyes lingered on his dark circles.

Athrun thought of something. "Were you at this remand center at any point?"

"There was some questioning for me as well." Yzak admitted. He shrugged. "I had to give a testimony as your superior, but I didn't suffer anything more than a lack of sleep from paper work and pointless questions. Worse, they didn't serve coffee despite my repeated requests."

"Did they interrogate you?" Athrun demanded, not believing that Yzak was as fine as he made himself out to be.

He snorted. "I'm still the Head General, damn it! Do you think the interrogators would ever forget that? For God's sake, Zala, I didn't get roughened up at all, unlike some lousy, two-bit Intelligencer."

Athrun smiled wryly. "Ten upon ten for accurate description."

Yzak granted him a rare smile, and then sobered up again. "You're going to get out of here, Zala, but you've got a lot of things to be thinking about. Frankly, Epstein's confession shocked the hell out of everyone—I didn't even see it coming. I didn't even suspect that there had been another person in the room. But come to think of it, there must have been. That's the only explanation for why there were a total of eight bullet wounds. One came from Epstien, two came from you when you took his gun, and then the remaining five had to be explained somehow. But you two weren't the only ones in the room. Some of the guards have admitted to entering after you'd dragged Cagalli Yula Atha out and then fixing the scene as well."

Yzak laughed humorlessly. "Isn't it fortunate that she said what she did? The judge ordered investigations to be opened again and more evidence has been found that supports what Epstein claimed. The investigators found that the fireplace acted as a passage way for the guards to enter Harraldsson's room quite easily from their quarters? The guards were questioned yesterday and they admit to seeing a bullet-riddled body and that they shot into Harraldsson too."

"Why?" Athrun said confusedly.

" Because they wanted it to look like crossfire, that's why .They were afraid that they would be accused of not doing their job and protecting him from what they thought were assassins. They all thought he was dead by then—nobody really knew that he was in a coma."

"What's going to happen to them?" Athrun inquired.

Yzak shook his head. "Like you, Zala, all they'll get is a slap on the wrist, and then face charges of professional negligence and insubordination back in their marshall courts. Criminal culpability-wise, it's one thing to fix the crime scene like that, but it helps if you thought you were shooting into a corpse and you shot at his limbs instead of the vitals. Besides, the doctors who tended to Harraldsson testified that at the time of his treatment, he was not breathing until they revived him successfully with the forceps. It's an accepted fact that anyone would have thought he was dead the way you and the guards did, and thus shot into what appeared to be a corpse."

"Do they know about the Isle?"

"You know, I don't think they do." Yzak considered. "They were some of the lesser cronies he used to carry out his diabolical plans. Trust me, there were probably far more politically-inclined, wealthier supporters that Harraldsson had when he began purging Denmark and then other Scandinavian regions of the Coordinators and Halfs. But I don't think any of them, including Harraldsson, knew about the Isle. How else could it have survived for so long?"

"Are you sure?" Athrun said worriedly. Ko was still back on the Isle, and he had spent plenty of hours fretting over the child the aides had left there. While Ko was perfectly capable of cooking his meals and looking after himself, if any of Harraldsson's supporters knew and went to the Isle, Ko would not be safe.

"Well, for starters, I'm absolutely sure that Harraldsson's supporters will never breathe a word about being fans of his." Yzak ran a hand over his face, tugging at his nose bridge in a bid to rid himself of tiredness. "Even if they knew about the Isle, they wouldn't go around talking loosely, now that Erik Strumsson's back. He's quite ready to get rid of anyone who helped his brother in law perpetuate crimes against Coordinators and only an idiot would admit to helping Harraldsson."

Yzak glanced at him. "I know you're worried about Kitani Ko, Zala."

Athrun looked away. "I promised his mother that I'd keep him safe."

"I know." Yzak agreed. He lowered his voice. "I sent Ko to the Plants, you know. I got him there two days ago—he's currently staying in the Joule Estate."

Athrun nodded his thanks, but relief had not come to him yet.

"What about Epstein?" Athrun had wanted to ask this for a long time, but knowing Yzak, he had done well to bide his time. Yzak was more like Ezalia than he realized, and Athrun knew that the Joules were the kind of people who revealed things in their own time but clammed up when pressed too fast.

But perhaps, Athrun had still been too impatient.

Yzak was silent, sitting stiffly across the visitor's table. He was probably trying to find the words to answer Athrun, and this worried Athrun.

"What about Epstein?" Athrun said, his voice tense.

"The defense attorney will try to plead necessity in his case. As it is, if he didn't shoot Harraldsson, she would have died."

"What are his chances?"

"I don't know. I'm not the best person to tell y-,"

"Get Erik Strumsson in here." Athrun said quietly, cutting Yzak off. Rage was in his features, and he was trembling. He had to bite down his anger and control himself, for he knew that using demands on Yzak would never work. "I'll make sure he testifies if it's the last thing I do."

"You don't get it, do you, Zala?" Yzak said wearily. "It's not like he doesn't want to. He can't."

"What?"

"He wanted to on the very day when Epstein admitted to shooting. He wanted to testify on your behalf to show that Harraldsson was likely to have attacked the Princess out of a desire to kill her, and that she would have died if you, as he thought it was you at that time, did not shoot. He could not have testified that if he did not have a reason to show why Harraldsson wanted to kill Cagalli Yula Atha— the facts would still fall back to Harraldsson attacking in supposed confusion, without any concrete proof that he had injured her and was intending to kill her."

"Then why couldn't he?"

Yzak shook his head. "He wasn't allowed to because the Intelligence Council and the chairman don't want the Isle's secrets to be exposed. The Intelligence Council and Plant's Supreme Council don't need more trouble with our international relations."

"And they were willing to let Harraldsson get away like that?" He said bitterly. "You mean to say that the people that Epstein and I worked so hard for were willing to let someone like him not face his comeuppance in the courts?"

"He's already half-dead, Zala. There really isn't a reason for Plant to spend more resources than it has."

Athrun shook his head, bringing his hands in front of him to show Yzak the slight scars on the wrists. "I don't begrudge them their lack of care to my fate. But what about Epstein's?"

Yzak looked at him pityingly. "Haven't you realized this for yourself, Athrun Zala? There are few things in the world that one does not treat as a pawn. It is enough that Epstein has someone like you."

"It isn't enough that I care about him." Athrun said quietly. "I can't let him be sentenced to a crime that isn't his fault. Strumsson has to testify and say that Epstein should be excused for shooting someone who would have definitely wanted and tried to kill Cagalli."

Yzak shook his head, tapping his fingers on the table. "Even though I am still part of the Numbers and my interests are the Isle and its secrets," He paused, a small, wry smile blooming on his lips, "I'm not sure that Erik can be prevented from testifying against Harraldsson even if the Numbers give him the entire Isle as a holiday resort."

* * *

When he was brought back into the courts, Athrun was only vaguely aware that he was entirely exhausted. His mind seemed to be moving faster than his body, and there was a disconnection to whatever he saw and felt. After all, he'd spent hours wondering what had gone wrong in his cell; wondering where he had failed and why he'd been unable to protect either Epstein or Cagalli.

As he moved into the courts, he was somewhat amused to see that the judge had done the cleverest thing one could have ever done. Come to think of it, Athrun realized, he'd heard word that the media had camped outside and plenty of officials had joined them with protests that there was no effort at maintaining transparency of public accountability of the holdings. Clearly, those protests had not swayed the judge's decision. Apart from the jury and the legal counsel and witnesses, there were no spectators allowed whatsoever. Even the jury was sitting in a way that the members of each faction were separated and staggered from each other.

"I see you've noticed the new arrangements. I assure you, those were absolutely necessary for the sake of sanity," The judge said mildly, as Athrun was brought in, and Athrun was astonished to see a small smile on the judge's lips. "Now, defense, you may begin."

"Mr. Zala, your aide has confessed to being with you when you went to Harraldsson's room. Both of you managed to get up the stairs. True?"

"True." There was nothing more to hide.

Mr. Zala, according to your aide, you had three shots left by the time you entered the room. True?"

"True."

"Mr. Zala, you opened the door, but your aide took the opportunity to shoot at Harraldsson's chest level and at point blank. You were unable to prevent this because he had taken the chance to fire first. True?"

"True." He wondered if he was just here to affirm everything that Epstein had confessed.

"Mr. Zala, your aide has claimed that he was wearing gloves when he shot with his gun. But then you took his gun, and then held it with an ungloved hand to make it seem like you had shot Harraldsson. True?"

"True."

"Mr. Zala, your aide has testified that you used your aide's remaining shots to fire at Harraldsson's legs to make it seem like crossfire injuries, then discarded the gun in the room. He had a spare gun that he did not use, and you did not take it from him. True?"

"True." That had certainly been the case.

"Mr. Zala, you never used your gun in the room at any point. True?"

"True." If Epstein had not gotten to it first, Athrun probably would have though.

"Mr. Zala, you also took and held Ms. Atha's gun while she was unconscious. True?"

"True."

"Mr. Zala, you never used the gun that Ms. Atha had on her person. True?"

"True."

"With regards to the charge of instigating Mr. Yamato to lead the Orb troops into Scandinavia, Mr. Zala, Ms. Atha has admitted to writing two out of three of the letters. The third one was written by your aide, as he testified, and you did not know of this. True?"

Athrun paused, looking at Yzak, who gave him a little frown.

And Athrun swallowed down his protest. "True."

"Mr. Zala, your aide has also testified to finding it necessary for Ms. Atha not to go back to Orb because he suspected that members of the Danish faction were waiting to kill her in Orb. Mr. Zala, you provided him such information. True?"

"True."

"Right before you came in for questioning, Mr. Zala, Ms. Atha admitted to stealing a yacht from the Zaft grounds—your personal yacht in fact, and escaping two days before she was scheduled to go back to Orb. At that time, you had left a knife and gun on the yacht. True?"

"True."

"Mr. Zala, at that point, Mr. Hoffman wrote a letter to Mr. Yamato, who was informed that Ms. Atha would be likely to go to Sweden. Again, you provided this information to Mr. Hoffman without realizing that he would use it to write a letter, true?"

"True."

"Mr. Zala, how did you know that Ms. Atha would be likely to be in Sweden after taking that yacht? It was after all, set in the direction of Orb."

He paused. "The yacht is a personal one and I had set it to go to Orb in preparation og the date that Ms. Atha would return. However, she must have become impatient and she stole off with the yacht herself, trying to bring it to Orb without realizing that it was already in Orb's direction. She did not know that I can track the yacht from the military base, and I knew that it was heading in Sweden's direction. That's how I guessed she was heading there."

"No further questions, Your Honour."

The questioning was fast and it came and went quickly. He answered without evasions, not bothering to say more than what was required of him. Even as he was led out, he already knew what the verdict was. It came in half an hour's time, and he was cleared of nearly all the criminal charges as the result of a unanimous decision.

"However," the judge read out, " Mr. Zala will hereby be sentenced to two weeks of confinement for his attempts to disguise the crime scene."

He smiled while keeping his face down when he bowed. "Thank You, Your Honour."

As the rest of the decision was read out, he searched the jury's faces and found doubt and fear still in some of their faces. While some of them seemed more neutral, he knew that some of them would never accept him and how hard he'd tried to protect those that mattered.

But the judge was studying him quizzically with his wrinkled old face in a curious gaze "Now that that's been settled, Mr. Zala, I'd like to ask you a few questions before this jury. Out of curiosity, mind you. I assure you that the court and jury's confidence will be kept from this moment onwards."

"I will answer as best as I can, Your Honour." Athrun said quietly.

"During the course of your aide's testimony, Mr. Hoffman clarified that your contract with Zaft was to expire in three years." The judge shifted his glasses a little, looking directly at Athrun. "And as I understand it, you were highly reluctant to undertake more responsibility with regards to helping your employers and Erik Strumsson manage the terrorism within Scandinavia. Yet, you are still here today. May I inquire why?"

"I make good my word." He said quietly. "I agreed to go on this mission until it ended. That was not part of the contract per se, but I felt it was my duty."

Yzak nodded once to show he had understood. The rest of the Plant Jury was nodding as well, looking highly satisfied. At least, Athrun thought, he had pleased them. It seemed to him that the Scandinavian and Orb members of the jury looked highly skeptical still.

"Even then," The judge continued inquisitively, "I understand that after you had been repatriated back to Plant over some false allegations, you did not have to work for Zaft. Can I know why you agreed to work with Zaft?"

Yzak's voice was thinly masking irritation as he held a hand up and prevented Athrun from answering. "Your Honour, the Plant Supreme Council has already made its stand clear on this. Mr. Zala and for that matter, the other Intelligencers' motivations for undergoing so much personal sacrifice and danger for Plant and Zaft are not important to the events at hand."

"It's fine." Athrun interrupted. "I'll take that question." He turned back to the judge, trying to ignore the way the jury members were boring holes through him with their eyes. "You see, Your Honour, I was offered a very good bargain."

"What was the nature of this?" One jury member from the Earth Alliance called out.

"At the time when I agreed to work for Zaft as an intelligencer, my payment included a recommendation from the Supreme Council and a chance to revisit Orb to clear my name."

He bowed and left the room, ignoring the stares that followed.

* * *

Cagalli did not face anymore questioning. She merely stood in the mostly empty courtroom, silent with her head bowed. She said nothing as the verdict was read out, and she only nodded once and briefly to show that she accepted that all criminal charges had been cleared.

"If that's all, Ms. Atha," The judge said in that same kindly tone that she had come to associated with the wizened old man. He turned to the bailiff. "Release her."

"Thank You, Your Honour." She said softly. She lifted her head to look at the jury members, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to flinch at the gazes some of them did not bother hiding from her.

She had no reason to hold her head any less high, Cagalli told herself stubbornly. If she had done anything wrong, it was not an obligation that she had to any of these men and women on the bench. It was not to them that she owed the duty of truth—it was to herself.

As it was, she required all the courage she had ever been born with. One of the Orb members of the jury was looking at her with a strange combination of scorn and pity, and two from Plant were whispering something that Cagalli fought hard not to burn at. For a minute, she stood there, frozen, sensing the hostility from those she had tried so hard to appeal to. But then she bowed again, and knew that she had only gotten a taster of what she'd been prepared to accept in her life from the minute she had stood up and requested to amend her testimony.

As she turned to move towards the door, a representative from Scandinavia said loudly, "Was Athrun Zala really just your brother's friend, Ms. Atha?"

Cagalli froze, but did not turn back to look at the person who'd asked or those who were obviously staring at her.

She never did as she left the courtroom.

* * *

In the car, Kira was not fastening his seatbelt and preparing to drive off. Cagalli had called with the verdict, and he was finding it a great deal easier to breathe now. But they could not breath anywhere inside or directly outside the courtroom, for the media had formed a circle and only a cordon of bailiffs was keeping them out.

Thus, he and Lacus were facing each other, cramped in the backseat, breathing hard in this space. But they were more able to breathe here than in the large courtroom, for that place suffocated slowly and almost without exception. He looked at her, nodding once, and it was all she needed to breathe deeply, joy lighting her features once again.

The evening had come and it was dark in this parking lot, in their locked, hired car, but it made sense that they could be alone in this space—where only two of them would be present.

"She's fine." Kira said quietly to Lacus. "The guards have also admitted to fizing the scene and shooting into Harraldsson."

She smiled through her tears. "Thank goodness."

He studied her. "Frankly, I knew that Epstein had been in that room too. He passed me by along the stairs, and so I knew he and Athrun must have been there, along with Cagalli."

"Then why didn't you testify to that?" Lacus demanded. Her eyes widened. "Was that why you kept evading certain questions you could have well answered?"

"I knew who Epstein was when I saw him." Kira said quietly. "When he passed me by, I knew immediately that he was the boy in that photograph with Talia Gladys. I've been looking for him since the end of the Second War. I suspected that Athrun was trying to protect him or Cagalli, and so I kept mum about what I'd seen and who I'd seen passing me by at the stairs."

"I see." She hugged him tightly. "I don't know what to think anymore." She smiled up at him. "I didn't think that you believed he was trying to protect Cagalli. I didn't realize that you refused to say more than you did because you thought that she had shot and that he'd been trying to take the blame."

He held her back, breathing in her scent, glad to be in her embrace.

"After he was led away," Kira confessed. "My instincts told me that he'd never harm her, no matter how many wrongs she'd done to him."

* * *

An hour later, all the verdicts were read out to the courtroom's spectators, who had been allowed back in. The questioning had been done without them, but public accountability demanded that the verdict were re-read for their sake. And as the last of the verdict was read out, the courtroom's spectators began to talk. These were no longer whispers or barely-concealed mutters.

Some were rushing towards their superiors who sat in other sections of the courtroom, demanding to know what the implications of the verdict was. Cagalli sat amongst them, not hearing the roar of their discussion, hearing only her heart beat against her, a reminder that she still existed.

Dimly, she watched as the witnesses and people who'd given their testimonies were led out by the bailiffs. She kept her eyes on Athrun's back; willing him to turn, willing him to look at her. But he never got a chance to turn, and nothing she saw of his expression suggested that he knew what to feel.

Then Cagalli closed her eyes, and without knowing why or how, she struggled out of the courtroom, not noticed by anyone. The hundreds of people surged around, the bailiffs ineffective against the crush of people who were desperate to get out of the courtroom to talk about what had just happened. It made no difference that the media was not allowed into the courtroom. The truth of the matter was that people had witnessed the proceedings and the word would spread.

Her feet were mashing with thousands of others, and she muttered an apology as she stepped on what was presumably someone else's foot. Someone grabbed her shoulder but she shoved it away madly, turning and not seeing any particular face but a grotesque mash of humans. Her cry was swallowed whole by the crowd that never even seemed to hear the beating of her heart and the way her breaths grew louder in her own ears. Even the exit was unrecognizable, for it was encrusted with people who had been waiting for hours for the proceedings to finish.

Through the heat and mesh of people, Cagalli understood that bodyguards were leading her in a direction that would allow her to breathe normally. Panting a little, she felt them block others from coming towards her. There was someone shouting next to her, his hands trying to clear the way as reporters swarmed, their words a buzz that grew louder and louder. She tried to think of what to say; tried to dissuade them; tried to make them leave her alone. It was drowned. A thousand others were shouting at the same time. And in some way, she had no right to try and evade all the questions. Cagalli had always known this would happen, despite the supposed security of the court. She had made her last decision while knowing of this.

And for that, Cagalli would not be able to move on.

"Ms. Atha! Can you tell us what the judge's decision was?"

"What were the circumstances of your kidnap?"

"Ms. Atha, is it true that your injury was caused by Pietre Harraldsson?"

"Your Highness, did you have some kind of falling out with James Marlin?"

"Your Grace, is it true? The rumours that you Athrun Zala was once your bodyguard and-,"

She shook her head mutely, unable to face the field of flashing lights and the outcry of voices in that strange sea of hands and arms and featureless faces.

"Did you know that you were related to Kira Yamato since the First War?"

The buzzing in her head was still going louder. Which was louder? The buzzing here or the shouted accusations and doubts channeled towards those she'd given so much of herself away for?

"Was it true that you knew you would be kidnapped but let yourself be? And what are your thoughts on-,"

The cameras were flashing everywhere, and she didn't understand what was going on. Shaking her head, feeling nauseous, Cagalli felt someone guiding her. She felt her vision going black for a moment and blinked, trying to walk straight.

"Give her some room." A voice was barking.

"Sir, you can't"

"Your Grace-,"

She was about to thank the person who was pulling her away from what she presumed was the crowd. But as Cagalli looked up, she realized a microphone was shoved under her face, and in horror, she realized that a reporter had gotten through the line of bodyguards and was yelling questions in her ear.

Terrified, Cagalli shook herself free from the person who had her elbow in a grip and began to run, shoving through the circle of people around her. A reporter broke free from the cordoned section and began to chase, and she didn't even have time to react, for her feet were reacting independently of her judgment.

As she fled up the stairs and back into the courtroom and down the first corridor that she could see, she slammed into someone who'd somehow overtaken her, and she looked up into Yzak Joule's impatient, sharp-featured face. But those features were marred by how wan he looked, and she noticed immediately that he'd aged in some way.

"Just in time, then. I was trying to reach you and get you to a safer place." He said with that thin brittleness she recognized as barely-veiled impatience. "How strange that you would run like I was the paparazzi."

Despite his stern posture and the way he seemed to fill every inch and implication of his uniform, Cagalli was suddenly aware that Yzak had never cared for his duty when he'd stepped into the courtroom. He had only cared for the friendship between him and Athrun, and for that, he had spoken out.

"Head General, I—,"

Cagalli stammered an apology and backed away. But Yzak captured her hand and spoke in a voice that had no room for argument. "Come."

She stared, not knowing what to say to him, he who seemed so familiar but not quite as well.

Everything was in a blur around her, and she knew she couldn't refuse even though she was afraid of what came next. She did not know where Yzak Joule would take her- their feet were marching down halls and halls and mazes of the bowels of the Supreme Court. Her hands were shaking, even the one he held.

Yet, she knew not to question him.

Turning corridor after corridor in the abyss of the inner courts, Yzak suddenly paused. This door looked like any other, and she stared at it, then at Yzak.

"This room's a safe one." He told her. Nobody will bother you here. But you can't stay for more than an half an hour, you hear me?"

Gratefully, she nodded. Her feet were sluggish as he led her and she wondered if she was breathing too hard to be getting any air at all. "I just want- want a place to breathe in for a while."

"Funny." Yzak looked a bit sad. "That's what he said too."

"What?" She said stupidly, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

Then Yzak looked at her and said brusquely, "He's been waiting for you."

It was then that she understood and her eyes widened and her face paled a little.

"How long has he been waiting for me?" Cagalli asked quietly, afraid that Athrun had seen her in the crowds, waiting to hear the verdict.

Yzak looked at her with something like scorn and empathy mixed into a complex emotion. There was bitterness in his eyes and sadness in his voice.

"Ever since he met you again."

Cagalli had scarcely any time to learn how to breathe again, for Yzak had opened the door and pushed her in, shutting it as it automatically locked.

She stumbled in, facing Athrun, seeing him again, the way he sat, carefully, on the edge of his seat, his legs crossed elegantly, as if he had never been through the ordeal that she had witnessed. His hands were no longer bound and the bruise on his cheek had faded, although something of that distressing shadow remained and his haunted eyes seemed as hollow as ever.

He stood up, watching her with those eyes she had avoided for so long, and she put a hand to her lips, vision a little blurred at the edges. The back of her hand was tight against her mouth, the palm facing outwards, shielding half her expression. Desperately, the back of her hand began rubbing her mouth, as if she could find her voice that way.

Then she was running and throwing herself into his arms, her arms circling around his neck, his own arms finding their way around her back as he kissed her.

These were angry, passionate kisses, Cagalli realized. These were familiar ones that held their frustration with the kind of regret that had stained their lives. These were kisses that bruised their lips; quick, hungry, lingering kisses that were reminiscent of those who knew of nothing else to say. These were kisses of a desperation that she could not measure or quantify even when he was right next to her.

No apology came, nor did any explanation. Perhaps, any would not have sufficed, and any would have been superfluous. She thought of the puzzle he'd been able to open and the way she'd struggled to for so long without realizing that only he could open the puzzle when he chose to. She thought of how she'd yearned to know how to open it, and she thought of how long she'd wanted to be able to understand him, even while she had been afraid of breaking him.

Athrun heard her sobbing, and he buried her face near his shoulder, hugging Cagalli as if she were life itself. He scarcely knew that he was breaking inwardly, clutching her and begging her not to cry.

"I'll have to leave for the Plants," He said softly. "I have to return to face the marshal court's inquiries."

Her breaths came in gasps. "I don't want you to go! Stay, don't leave anymore-,"

Athrun shook his head, still holding her very tightly. "Orb has always needed you, you can't abdicate and leave all that you've accomplished-,"

"I don't care about all that anymore!" She cried. Nor did she care that she was helpless, she was being foolish and weak, and that her pride had long been replaced with desperation and the misery of the future's prospects without the anchor of his presence. Amongst all these, she cared little that she was begging him as she'd never begged anyone before, and that he was present to see the way her tears were streaming down her face.

"I've never cared about anything more than you- you can't ask me to go back there and pretend that nothing exists outside that little world that I used to lock myself in!"

"I don't care what kind of savior complex you've developed since young, Athrun, or the real reason why you pushed me away from you the other day." She was choking in a bid to say what she wanted to, but her words seemed to fail her. "Don't you dare take me and then say you're giving me up!"

Athrun kissed her feverish forehead, and he felt a few warm tears drop from his eyes. Those fell on her hands and she didn't dare to look up and realize that he had never been strong the way she'd imagined. Athrun had been as weak as her in his indecision and his capacity to hope. If she had thought him to be strong, that had only been because he'd had to be strong for them both.

"I thought I'd do anything to hear that." His voice was hoarse and his hands seem to weaken in their grip. "I didn't mind giving away my identity and my beliefs so that I could meet you again."

"Don't go then," Cagalli begged, looking at him and grabbing his shoulders. "You don't have to prove anything anymore."

Athrun gazed at her. "I have to. I have a few more things to sort out."

She knew what he was trying to hide. His insubordination would be brought into question and she knew he had already been charged and was facing court-marshalling from Zaft.

"It's going to take some time to sort out." He told her, and she saw the fear in his eyes, despite his strength and steady calm. She saw the old pain in his mouth and the way he held his head high, and Cagalli knew that she was going to lose him.

"How long?"

He shook his head, unable to say anything. He would not lie to her this time.

"Athrun—,"

He held her a little tighter. "I wish-," His voice broke. "I wish I didn't have to go."

She clung to him, trying to tell Athrun what she had always felt, what she had always wanted to say to him, the innermost of her thoughts and her wishes. But it made no difference now. It was impossible. In that little world of her own, he had made her very aware of the world that existed outside it, a world that he existed in. She wanted to go to him, to that other world outside her own, but now it was impossible.

Still, it made her very bitter. He had shown her what the real world was, how complex and strange it was, how insanely necessary he was to her, and now, he was taking everything away. It wasn't fair— it just wasn't. But then, she had done the same to him a very long time ago. She'd taught him how to feel, she'd shown him that love and hatred were very much the same, and then she had taken it all away and made him a shell of himself. Perhaps then, Cagalli realized, it was fair.

"I have to go soon." He said quietly. Yet, his arms did not slacken around her.

She held him close. "Isn't there some way for me to change that? How can I make you stay?"

"I don't want you to." Athrun said slowly. "There's no point in that now."

She knew that he spoke the truth.

Even if she abdicated now, it would not change the fact that the Plants would never let him leave. She could go to the Plants with him—Cagalli Yula Atha could throw everything away in the manner she'd just threatened to if he didn't stay. But it wouldn't change anything where the Isle was concerned. It was a place where the past could be escaped even if only in the minds of the deluded ones, and it was a place that he was bound for indefinitely. It was the one place she would never be able to return to again. And who was to speak of returning when the same river could never be stepped into twice?

"You won't be coming back, will you?" She was unable to stop her tears. "That's why you're not saying anything."

He was silent. "I don't know. I have to deal with some things first."

"Come back to me," She begged, holding his hands in hers. "Please."

"You can't cave in," His voice was low and hoarse, for if he was fighting something they both couldn't see. "Don't give anything up. You're going to be strong for yourself now. You must."

Her tears were still falling even when all the expression had died from her face. She felt nothing of them, saw nothing of the emotion in face because her vision was so blurred, but she nodded for both their sakes.

When had their lives become those parallel lines that looked so similar but never met?

He reached to her collarbone, peeling away the high-necked collar she wore, fetching out the ring she was wearing on a chain. In fact, however, he hadn't needed to check— he'd always known that she had been wearing it. She looked at it soberly, and then closed her eyes because the tears would not stop falling. In that darkness; in her blindness, she felt him kiss and say quietly, "Keep it safe for me."

Her voice echoed his in its pain and longing. "Always."

* * *

-34 days


	32. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please**

* * *

Chapter 31

* * *

"You'll do it?" There was only one who spoke, but the uncertainty in that particular Number's voice must have mirrored the expressions of the others.

Of course, the Twelfth Eye would never really know because those who faced him would never reveal their faces. And even then, Twelfth Eye reflected, he would never really know what the Numbers or the other Eyes thought of him or what they made out of this spate of events.

He looked at his hands. For all those years, he had taken to masking them, afraid to let others see these fine, undeniable lines that suggested that he was capable of losing his control. But when she'd willingly pressed her mouth to his and let her hands meet his shoulders, that had been enough for him to forget himself. He'd discarded all pretence of being unaffected soon after—he'd wanted to. Even now, there was no point covering those scars.

He nodded once, trying to cover the awful, familiar hollowness that threatened to shake his voice and will. "In for return my payment, yes."

There was someone amongst the Numbers who cleared his throat uncertainly. "Then you'll return to the previous stronghold that you occupied. The checks being run in that area have finished."

"Just in time then." Another Number remarked. The Twelfth Eye had only been released from the stand an hour ago. The Plant and Zaft military court had found insubordination but little else that it could not excuse either in the fact-finding or the essentials of sentencing. "Will you be ready to leave in twenty-four hours at nineteen five four?"

"Roger."

"May the Twelfth Eye take his leave now?" Asked Six to Nine.

He noted that Six sounded rather strained. Eileen Canaver did not approve of him returning, but she had been outvoted on this decision, amongst others.

Two spoke up, and the distortion of his or her voice did not change the intent it held. "No. Twelfth Eye, I will ask you once and once only in the presence of the Numbers. Did you pursue a personal relationship with Cagalli Yula Atha? "

Four cut in. "Understand, Twelfth Eye, that you are still under probation."

"I am aware of that, sir."

He was aware that they had turned the place upside down on the Fifth Isle. While the islands and the boundaries had been redrawn and areas renamed, the old summer palaces and other places that the ancient Danish royals had once built and occupied remained. The decrepit church did, as did the former Fifth Eye's base and other Eyes' strongholds. The former Fifth Eye had occupied the summer palace in a certain area and had furnished it.

During his recent absence, a Zaft squad sent by the Secret Intelligence Council had been sent in to do checks to find evidence to be used in the trial and questioning that the Fifth Eye had faced by Zaft. There had only been some harmless looking old diaries, photographs, files with carefully if not obsessively recorded finances and gems that had not led to any conclusive proof of conspiracy or frolic and detours from the main obligations. Rather, those items had reinforced the defense's case that the former Fifth Eye had always been strictly acting for Plant and Zaft's benefit, even if this had bordered on insubordination at points.

But amongst all the evidence, the investigation team had found multiple, unsigned paintings. The investigation team had analyzed the brush strokes and paint quality and produced a lengthy report concluding that the painter had been the same for thirty-eight paintings and that the paintings had been completed over the last year or so. These had been confiscated, as had the former Fifth Eye's personal records of his dealings with the Danish Liberation Front while undercover. Those had been deemed too dangerous and too questionable by the vote of the Numbers, and so those would be destroyed— written off totally.

While this report and evidence had not been used in court at all, he knew that doubt lingered. Why else would the paintings have been destroyed, as if those were suggestive of Plant's intelligencer indulging in things aside from his obligations?

"Well, Twelfth Eye?" Seven spoke, and the aggression was clear in the voice. "The Numbers are waiting for your answer."

He thought of the thirty-ninth painting that nobody had found. "The only relationship between the Orb Princess and myself was that of captive-captor."

"Fine." Seven said quite forcefully, as if foreclosing all further questions.

Still, those went on.

Eleven asked, "Will you re-swear your allegiance to Plant and Zaft?"

They would never be entirely trusting of him. But he had not expected anything more than that façade of indifference and quiet contempt or even apprehension. In response to their need for confirmation, he raised his hand in a salute, palm towards himself, outer hand facing those who could see him.

Ungloved, the scars on those were visible in this light, and those formed tiny, white ridges over the knuckles and lower digits. Those on the other side of the screen stared, unable to turn their eyes away from the evidence of their intelligencer's weakness.

* * *

-52 days

* * *

The steam rose from the cup in her hands and she blew slightly at it, wishing she could dissolve as it did.

And Cagalli shut her eyes and breathed shallow breaths, trying to tell herself that all was well now. The paparazzi had given up trying to get a statement from her because she remained mum and Aaron had done an exceptional job with threatening to bring up their mortgages.

She put the cup away after washing it. The house was in perfect order, but it was not enough for her now. She began to locate the vases of flowers in the house, thinking that she'd empty those and fill them in with more if she somehow obtained some blossoms from a greenhouse somewhere. Flowers were important for normalcy. She even hummed a little song to herself, trying to smile even though nobody was watching.

She found a grand total of one vase. It had nothing in it— not even water to clear. The rest had been broken some days ago, when she'd torn through the house and ruined things senselessly, trying to find an order in the mess that she'd created. Over the last few days, she'd locked herself in and tidied everything up. It looked the same now.

Well, almost. There was only one vase left.

Of course, Cagalli did not break the tradition of trying. She took the vase and scrubbed it even thought it was entirely clean, and she even prepared to fill it with water before realizing that she'd have to go out to the gardens and cut some flowers. She took some time to consider whether she should continue, then moved back to the living room.

Eventually, she gave up thinking of ways to busy herself, went back to the unlocked house, and wandered over to the settee in her living room. She switched on the radio, but there was no news that she wanted to hear or to think about. The news still featured quite a bit of conspiracy theories about past events that she did not want to recall, and so she switched to a music channel instead.

She sat with her back straight, her hands folded properly, her legs together, almost as if she were at a conference and not resting at home. As the music played, the sounds filled the room but emphasized the sole presence of the person within it. If a passerby had happened to glance into the window, the owner of the estate would have appeared to be listening carefully to every syncopated beat and taking stock of everything. But she grew tired and irritable before she knew it, and the thought of how she had another week of leave made her even wearier.

And Cagalli began to look in each room of the house, hoping to find something that would catch her attention. She seemed like a poltergeist that was chained to it even when it was her own house. Her father's old room was empty; as was the servants' quarters. The room that Kisaka had once worked in had become a place for her books, and the chair he'd rocked her in once seemed smaller and more fragile than she wanted to admit. There were empty rooms in empty corridors and there was one such room that made her stop entirely. It was one that she had never gotten used to, unlike her father, Kisaka and Mana's rooms. This one had absolutely nothing in it; not even a single table or chair or anything left of its previous occupant.

Naturally, the only place Cagalli had to move to eventually was the mosaic of fields outside her house. She traced paths that she'd run on as a child, moving across worn steps to the edge of her estate where the house seemed less imposing with the distance.

She threw pebbles into the stream— some tributary of the Orb river that ran through the Atha Estate. And she watched fishes dart and dance until she found that she could watch no longer.

She came to the mailbox at the edge of the south side of her estate, biting her lips and looking at it. Once, Aaron had sworn that her mailbox was simply for dust to collect in it. Even the postman never got a chance to enter the estate without going through security checks.

Usually, she cleared it once a month. Letters were very rare when those were not from her friends or Lacus. She'd received Lacus' letter last week, and it was unlikely there would be anything in this box at all. If it was business, it was a call. If someone needed to contact her, there were at least five secretaries to go through first and twenty bodyguards. Even the postman who dropped things into this box had to pass through a security check and a notice served to Cagalli before she received anything. Naturally, Lacus' letters often came in a week late. The usual Anthrax tests and similar other checks were rather lengthy.

Frankly, Cagalli had no business being here at her own postbox.

Lazily, she still dipped her hand into the box out of convention, not really expecting anything. But then she pulled out a longish package, and her eyes widened. Instinctively, she dropped the package back and took a mandatory step back, half-expecting something to explode in her face. No notice of incoming mail had been given to her— this could not be authorized mail.

But curiosity got at her, and Cagalli eventually went back to the box and lifted the package out again. That recklessness and inquisitiveness had attracted her trouble time and time again, but she found that she could not care anymore. If she died for this, she would die for opening something at the edge of the estate she was bound to.

The package held no address or card but only a long tube. Perhaps Aaron had left it there when he'd visited the time, as a manner of surprising her, she tried to assure herself. She opened the tube drew out a scrolled piece of paper.

As she unfurled it, the room that had haunted her memories for so long lay before her.

There was an ocean beyond a window that greeted her- a picture in colours that she had personally chosen— a dab at a time, strokes caressing the edges of the canvas.

There was no signature, but she recognized it- after all, she had painted it. She knew what the painted shadows within the room meant. This was the final painting— the one he'd put in the basement of his study and insisted on keeping there; kept sacred and pristine away from the eyes of others. He'd treasured this one out of all the others even back on the Isle, and it occurred to her that he must have hidden this somewhere nobody could find.

Where were the other paintings? She looked into the tube again but found nothing else.

But even before she really thought about it, her instinct told her that the others must have been found or taken away.

Eagerly, Cagalli searched for a letter, a sign of familiar writing, almost frantically, in the folds. There was none. There was no explanation of why he had sent this to her; where he was and why he had not returned to Orb even after news of his acquittal in Plant had been released. There was nothing that could assure her that she had not been dreaming of something just beyond her consciousness and created from all the memories of her failures and the aching of what might have been.

Disappointed, Cagalli rolled up the canvas, repacked it, and dropped it back into the mailbox. She made her way back to the house, where she had not locked the door. What was the point when there were gates beyond the house?

As she passed the mirror in the main hall, Cagalli did not dare to look into it and see the paleness that she could feel in her face for fear that she would truly fall to pieces. The last time she had, she had locked herself in a room and cried for hours. She had sobbed with barely any sound but with all the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders and suffocating the life out of her.

But she was fine, Cagalli told herself fiercely. She was doing her best to move on. She was in the process of regaining control. She was successful; she was competent; she knew what she was doing. She was going to be fine. She would be returning to her office soon.

The strains of jazz from the radio that she'd left on was still playing; the singer's fluttering, flirtatious improvisations mingling with the voices of others in the other room. Some soup was cooking somewhere in the kitchen, but she closed her eyes, blocking everything out, stumbling onto a couch and throwing herself back on it.

And not for the first time, she wondered what eternity was doing.

* * *

-63 days

* * *

In the spring, Cagalli accepted an invitation to see her nephew. The invitation came at the perfect time, she'd told Lacus over the phone, because she had been planning to go to the Plants for her to helm some major conferences. Lacus had taken her shopping on the third day of the conference, and the two women had experienced a rather nice time going incognito.

Nonetheless, Cagalli did not take up the offer that her brother and sister-in-law extended to her—she was afraid of getting in the way, she said. Besides, a hotel in Aprilius made it easier for her to get to work in Plant, whereas staying with them in December City involved longer shuttle rides.

Now, Kira watched as his twin bounced Leon on her lap. Leon was going to be a year old soon, but his charm was unmistakable. She had brought him enough toys to fill a cupboard, and it was clear how indulgent she was towards her nephew.

Even now, she was giggling at how he made little sounds and she watched as he clapped his tiny hands together. When Leon blubbered something of a familiar tune, her smile lit up the room.

In Kira's house, Cagalli clearly felt at ease, although she'd elected to stay at a hotel rather than at this place. As Lacus had tried to argue, the shuttles from Aprilius to December were far less inconvenient than what Cagalli had described, but Cagalli had still declined the invitation to stay there for that week.

But as Kira saw it, Cagalli seemed to be fine here, and she appeared happy and cheerful. She was hugging Leon securely in her arms, pointing to a fuzzy, slightly drowsy looking cat in one of the many children's picture books.

"Cat," Cagalli said clearly and very slowly. "See that? Cat."

"Cat." Leon said, without much effort at all. He looked at his new friend with a smiley expression. "Cat."

She laughed, clearly amazed at how Leon had acquired his speech recently. As if his aunt wasn't already enraptured by him, Leon meowed like a cat suddenly, surprising her even more. But then, Cagalli did not know that there was a cat that visited Kira's home occasionally. Nor did Cagalli know that Lacus often fed it and it would sit at the porch, meowing so loudly that Leon had picked up the sounds that cats made. Furthermore, Kira did not want to reveal how he was standing right at the doorway, looking through the gap.

He watched his son meow insistently, as if trying to confirm that he was correct.

"That's right!" Kira peered as Cagalli exclaimed, highly pleased. She bounced the child a little more, rewarding him and hearing him laugh happily. "You're so clever, Leon!"

The light that the drawn curtains let in flooded over Leon and Cagalli, and Kira noted how happy they were in each other's presence. Cagalli looked healthy in this light, her hair bright and her eyes sparkling. She had changed out of her formal clothes and was wearing a dress and scarf that Lacus had given her upon her arrival here in December City.

Looking at her, Kira thought that she seemed nothing like the cold, intelligent and even calculating person that he'd met along the hallways just hours ago; moving with her entourage and discussing the next strategy for the next meeting. At that time, their eyes had crossed and he had offered a small smile, but she had returned it only reluctantly before she passed by.

Now, Cagalli seemed to belong to this little hideaway that Kira and Lacus had built their home in. Like her brother and his wife, she was dressed in comfortable, loose clothing. The dress was a pretty blue and suited her very well, making her look bright and alert. It was almost as if she had not been forced to pick herself up from the mess and fragments of the courtroom all those months ago.

Kira smiled at Lacus, who peered over his shoulder to watch her sister-in-law and son playing. He murmured to his wife, "I told you they'd get along well."

"Yes, I thought so too." But Lacus' smile was reluctant as she pulled Kira from the room. As she did, Lacus shut the door quietly, turning to him.

As they walked to the living room together, Kira sensed her hesitation, and he took her in his arms before they could reach the sofa. The cake that the three of them had made with Leon watching was still baking, and the smell of sugar and flour in the air wafted to them as they passed by the kitchenette.

"What is it?" He asked unsurely.

"She's not fine." Lacus said quietly. The frustration in her eyes was growing apparent.

"But she was brilliant at today's conference!" Kira protested. "She took down Eileen Canaver's points without letting the chairman find Orb's proposal's weakness and—,"

"I wasn't referring to that." Lacus told him. "I know plenty of people were expecting her to be a wreck after she returned to work, but I was certainly not one of them." Her azure gaze grew firmer. "I never expected her to be anything less in terms of her performance today."

Kira hesitated, thinking of how Cagalli had refused to leave her home during the two and a half weeks of her recuperation. The media had been told that she was resting from her ordeal, but Kira knew that her wounds were more than physical. "Then what do you mean she's not fine? She's smiling, and she's playing with Leon-,"

"She's not fine." Lacus told him, a little more stubbornly. She sighed suddenly, holding his hands and then putting those around her, unable to verbalize her need to feel secure. Kira obliged, taking her closer. "If she was fine, she wouldn't have looked at the photographs on that mantle without any expression."

"What did you expect her to do, Lacus?" Kira demanded, pulling her away a little to look closely at her. "I'm not sure I even wanted her to see those. We've discussed this, haven't we?"

Lacus' eyes fell to his feet, and guiltily, he muttered an apology, knowing that he had hurt her without meaning to. "Sorry. I know you think that there's no point hiding all the traces of him away, and I agree that it does seem pointless. But—," He paused, not sure how to express his fears.

"Kira," She said quietly. "If Cagalli had really been fine, she would have made an effort to smile or laugh about those times."

"She couldn't possibly have done that!"

"She would have pretended that she had been fine the way she always had in the past— at the very least." Lacus looked directly at him. "She would not have looked at the photographs like those hadn't even mattered in the past."

He lifted his head, looking at those pictures displayed at the mantle. Smiling faces were reflected in those, and he understood what Lacus meant. Cagalli was not at peace, and frankly, Kira doubted that she would be for a long time.

If he'd once assumed that the wars would end and that peace would come and stay forever, Kira knew that he had been far too naïve and presumptuous. The peace he wanted was not simply a matter of the lack of war. The peace that politicians spoke of was an ideal; a throwaway concept for societies. It had always been a construct; a kind of social fiction that politicians talked about when wars ended. But at the very least, peace was supposed to be normality, and Cagalli would not regain hers so quickly. Some things in her life had been smashed and destroyed, and Lacus had sensed that even when Cagalli had shown so much control while seeing the photographs on the mantle.

As Kira swept his eyes over the framed pictures, he wondered why they'd left so many things behind them. He looked at how the four of them had once smiled and been so hopeful about the days to come, young adults who'd suddenly grown older than most within a war—teenagers who knew too much to regain that all-important, presumptuous naiveté about life.

And now, he knew that Lacus was correct. If Cagalli had truly recovered, she would not have looked at the photographs dully.

Lacus looked at him miserably. "Kira, try and convince her to stay with us a little while longer. She'll feel better here see how relaxed she was when we were baking? We can do more for her than Aaron or anyone could ever do. We can support her, Kira, and I'll be able to speak to her and to comfort her."

He took his hands away from her, looking into her clear eyes. "Maybe we're wrong. Maybe she doesn't need anyone."

"No." Lacus insisted. "Be honest with yourself, Kira. You know she wants to put a distance between herself and even us. It's because she doesn't want anybody to reach out to her anymore."

He paused, shaking his head.

"I know that." Kira said slowly. "But you know as well as I do that she doesn't want anyone to be too close to her. Not even us. The minute she stepped in here, she told us that she could only stay for tea. The conference in Plant has ended and she's got some things to deal with back in Orb. I think you know that she can't stay."

"Kira, you know what she's doing!" Lacus' voice grew a little louder. "You know why she's choosing not to stay in this house!" Her eyes flew to the mantle, where all the photographs were. The children in the orphanage that Cagalli had once been so closed to beamed back, as did others that Cagalli had once known. "You know she's afraid of becoming dependant on people who actually care for her. She doesn't want us to know what she's really thinking."

"But that's because she's trying to be normal." Kira said firmly. He held Lacus' hands in his, although she pulled those away, turning from him. "Lacus, listen to me. She's trying her best and she doesn't want anyone's sympathy. You can't begrudge her that."

"I know, but I can't accept the way she's doing it. She's trying to forget, Kira. But she doesn't have to." Lacus shook her head. "She shouldn't have to forget him at all. Maybe it hurts deep inside, but forgetting everything won't make the pain go away."

The clock's ticking in the corner was quiet and steady, but it made Kira feel trapped in his own home. He thought of the past and the hours he'd spent trying to make Cagalli talk when she had been at her lowest, and he knew what Lacus was referring to.

"That's not the way Cagalli works." Kira told her morosely. "I've told you this before. When she meets unhappiness in her life, she doesn't sulk or complain or cry out anymore than she can stop herself from doing. She doesn't even try to work it out the way most people would and to see what went wrong. She can't—it wouldn't make sense for someone like her to revisit mistakes and diagnose what went wrong." Kira shook his head, thinking about all that had happened. "Most of the time, she wouldn't be able to either."

What had gone wrong was something none of them could really understand. If Kira made a mess of his work, he would simply have to apologise and try to fix it. For Cagalli, her mistakes were not of that sort but mistakes that moulded her present and future.

She never looked back, for she could not, and she would never be able to fix the events that she'd been embroiled in without understanding why or how these had come to pass. It had seemed inevitable that she'd made her mistakes, as had Athrun, and Kira wasn't sure that their mistakes were mistakes at all. Who could place a reason as to why Cagalli had agreed to leave him, and who could place a reason as to why he had chosen to fight his demons alone?

"She imagines that period never existed in her life—she aborts those memories by sheer will, just so that she can go on living in the way her country needs her to, like she's something infallible. But that's the only way she can deal. Maybe she will be fine, Lacus." He looked at her firmly. "Maybe we just need to trust her to carry on."

"But it's not right." Lacus insisted. "It's not right to try and forget in order to deal with her pain."

"It's the best she can do." He said quietly. "What else can she do now?"

A chiming sound from the kitchen interrupted their silence, and instinctively, Lacus began hurrying towards the kitchen. But Kira grabbed her hand, holding her close and kissing her forehead gently. "Don't worry."

"How can I not?" She said in a tiny voice. "I want to help her so much, Kira, but I don't know how to." Lacus lowered her voice. "Even Athrun. Don't you think he's trying to do what Cagalli's doing now? He doesn't visit, he doesn't want to answer our calls, and he's just cutting us off entirely too."

"But that's because of his job," Kira said defensively. "He's still working for the Intelligence Council, so he can't get out of that place as often as he would probably like."

Lacus looked at him doubtfully. "Don't you think that's why he agreed to go back there? It's unlikely that he can ever return to Orb, and I think he doesn't want to face a situation where if he wanted to, he would not be able to. That's why he agreed to go back to the Isle." She shook her head. "I begged him to talk to Cagalli, but he wouldn't say more than what he told us before he put down those picture books for Leon and left for Aprilius."

He hugged her close, understanding her insecurities and fears. Lacus was someone who understood others very easily, and she was someone who could express herself without much trouble at all. But if Lacus had made the most of those abilities and taken those for granted at some point, it was becoming obvious that she could not reach through to grasp hold of Cagalli's heart or Athrun's stoic facade to remove the pain both hid behind that competence.

For Kira though, he was glad that they were together in this place and that they had each other to move on from the agony of the events in the courtroom. "Don't worry so much. We just have to trust them both to live the way that they want to."

She said nothing but he felt her relaxing against him. The chiming sound from the kitchen continued, but they ignored that. And he whispered, "Maybe she needs more time to understand that what she had with him was still a blessing."

Lacus buried her face in his shoulder. "I don't know."

* * *

-94 days

* * *

The time came when Cagalli was summoned and asked to face the Council of Elders. It had irked her to think that she was being ordered around when really, she was the head of Orb. But the domain was no longer the Parliament building where she sat at an office in the top floor but the Sarano Abbey where the Elders sat to make decisions for various members of the Orb royalty.

Even as she'd received notification from Ernest Rohm, the assistant to the Head Elder and spokesperson of the Council, Cagalli knew that she had no choice but to show up with that measure of deference that the Elders commanded. No matter how powerful she became or how important her word was, she, her father and all the Orb Heads before them had still been obliged to act according to the standards expected of them.

Cagalli was not ignorant or delusional enough to not know what the Council of Elders had summoned her for. The date and time had been set, and the address was a given. On a brighter note, Aaron had tried to say, the notification itself was one week in advance of the meeting, and she had been given ample time to consider what to say. Of course, she doubted she would have any say at all.

For all her irritation and unwillingness to hear about anything that would remind her of the past, Cagalli understood that she was still obliged to turn up. As the car with its Orb flag drove past the rather incredible architecture of Sarano Abbey, her troubles loomed closer and closer as she approached the massive stretch of architecture that the House of Elders currently met in.

No matter how much the media was regulated, there was no changing the fact that some laws still bound her, and Cagalli Yula Atha would have to account for those as long as she wanted to keep her seat. The thought of that irked her at times, but there was no way around it. As usual, appearances were to be kept up with, and even her trip to Sarano Abbey had two cars of bodyguards tailing the one that had come for her.

Muttering a few choice words to herself at this point, she checked her reflection in the driver's review mirror. The chauffeur, a rather youngish-looking, slightly too-tall bodyguard, was hunched in the driver's seat. With his height, he seemed to have been crumpled and tossed into the car like an old shirt, although he was quite menacing when he was part of her entourage. He happened to glance into the review mirror at the same time, and their eyes met awkwardly. He'd been caught checking on her, and she'd been caught checking on herself It was a moment of pure awkwardness and she smiled nervously.

But he spoke softly, and it surprised her to hear that his voice was hesitant and soft like a child's. Cagalli had never taken much notice of any bodyguard, but this one was venturing to speak to her. "Your Grace, don't worry."

She stared with astonishment at the chauffeur, and nodding mutely, Cagalli tried to smile to convey her thanks at his concern. It came out more as a grimace. Nevertheless, there was no time to think of all this as they came to a halt.

As the usual procedures went, he escorted her out of the car, passing the keys to some one else that she scarcely looked at, and moved behind her as she marched to the main elevator that would take her to the top floor. Frankly, Cagalli found the Sarano Abbey highly foreign, especially since she had not been here since her coronation and official reinstatement after the Second War.

Cagalli was vaguely aware that the Abbey was filled with people today. These were not visitors who came to take photographs of national icons and treasures from a distance and who wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the place where the Council of Elders sat. Besides, Cagalli mused as, tourists were in the wrong place if they wanted to see anyone of any importance in this place on a normal day. The Elders themselves met once a month, and only the Orb Royals found any significance for this place on specific occasions when they were summoned here.

The place was in official use today, but other Emirs from the other Houses had still gotten in here. They were staring at her, milling around and talking behind their hands, and she was glad that they would not be allowed up to see the House of Elders.

Her bodyguard did not move down the end of the corridor when they stopped on the top floor. Instead, he nodded once, smiling awkwardly again, and said quietly, "Mr. Rohm instructed me to wait here, Your Grace."

Nodding curtly to mask her fear and feelings of insecurity, Cagalli turned, straightening her uniform as she moved down the hallway. There was only one room at its end, and past memories of signing key documents since the Second War came rushing back at her. She swallowed down the strange combination of reminiscence and irony in her, and nodded to herself.

When she knocked once and entered, Cagalli found herself facing a total of twenty-two men and women who stared at her. She did not usually meet this particular group of people, even if some had been her father's friends at one point and had visited the estate when she'd been a child. As a matter of procedure, their roles as part of the Council of Elders was a very hushed one to prevent present Emirs from trying to influence their decisions. As Cagalli gazed at them, she thought that some looked familiar, some looked older than she'd expected. Worst of all, she realized, quite a few did not seem to approve of her very presence.

Nevertheless, she took in a deep breath, bowing stiffly. "Cagalli Yula Atha is here to report to the House of Elders as ordered. I await your instructions, my Lords and Ladies."

As she straightened up, she stole a glance at the Head. He sat in the centre, the arc of people making Cagalli feel rather constricted. He made no sound, a still presence that seemed to be a bag of wrinkles stuffed into a dark suit, his hands folded over a walking stick.

She stood, waiting for the Head Elder to speak. Had she fallen below some standard they expected of an Orb Head, she wondered? Or had she disappointed them in some way?

But the Head Elder cleared his throat a little and spoke, and Cagalli was forced to focus on him. He was an ancient, speckled old man from the Lyadov House who had long given up his power so he could boss those with the power around. Apparently, the reedy, hunched man before her had been the Head Elder even during her father's time, and it made Cagalli highly nervous to know that she would have to try appealing to the man that her father had been so deferent to. Illyrich Lyadov had not been the key Emir of Lyadov for a long time, but Cagalli would not be surprised if he was still as keen on politics as he'd been in the past.

"Lady Atha," He said slowly, "Or should I say, Lady Cagalli."

She waited, understanding the implication of his addressing her by all the titles and the hats that she wore. She was not merely Lady Cagalli, the Head of Orb as Lord Uzumi had been, but Cagalli was also an Atha Emir. She was the key Emir and in fact, the only one left of the Atha House. Inwardly, she squirmed, wondering if it their considerations of her situaion boiled down to the fact that the Athas were going to die out and she was expected to restart the line or something.

"So you showed up." He harrumphed, thumping his walking stick. His action seemed neither approving or otherwise, but his voice, if somewhat grizzly and rough with age, was very clear and firm. Lord Illyich had no shred of compassion or kindness in his face, but at least, Cagalli tried to reassure herself, he would be fair if she made her case well enough.

"How could I not, Lord Illyich?" She made an allusion to the letter with the Council of Elders' crest that all Orb nobles had to recognize and act in accordance with.

He coughed once. "I might have confused you with your father."

Cagalli looked at him, a little confused.

"You see," He told her imperiously, "Where your father was concerned, this council would have to play cat and mouse games with him. I would set the date for a meeting on the behalf of this council. It would be no mean feat for my personal secretary, given the number of people and schedules we have." He raised a hand that seemed conjoined to a walking stick and thumped it on the table for emphasis. Those around him seemed quite wary of the stick, Cagalli noticed, for they flinched. "And your father, that sly fox that he was, stood us up on a total of seven times." He coughed, his mouth making an appearance in his rather thick white bead and his rheumy little eyes glaring at her. "Seven!"

"With regards to the decision of the Orb Head's marriage and requirement of producing an heir?" She said meekly, thinking about her father's defiance.

Lord Illyich actually rolled his eyes at her. "Duh."

"E-Excuse me?"

He held up a hand in that overwhelmingly imperious way and turned to the Elder seated next to him. His tone was conspiratorial. "My grandchild tells me that is the way to use the expression. Was I correct?"

The poor Elder next to him leaned closer and nodded, trying not to look too conspicuous.

Cagalli tried not to laugh. She was quite sure that her cheeks were turning red from the effort. But as cool as he pleased, Lord Illyich turned back to her and continued as if he'd never digressed. "I hope that it will not be the same with you, Lady Atha. I understand that you have suffered a traumatic period." He paused but offered no sympathy. His expression was as sharp as ever. "And my learned fellow Elders and I have decided that it is best for you to carry on with your duties to Orb as its Head."

"My Lord," Lady Sahaku spoke up quietly. "I would like to say something on behalf of Lady Atha here. She has secured a great number of triumphs for Orb ever since she became its Head, and for that matter, since she returned from Scandinavia. I request, my Lord, that you acknowledge her dutifulness."

Cagalli's eyes fell on her and with some surprise, for she had not expected Lady Sahaku or any Elder to interrupt the Head Elder at all. As her eyes met Lady Sahaku's, Cagalli saw that she had retained a great deal of that classic beauty with her pale skin and dark hair. Clearly, time had been kind to Lady Sahaku even though fate had not been. A small smile crept onto Cagalli's face, and she only remembered herself in time and straightened her expression hastily.

Lord Illyich coughed again, thumping his stick threateningly. "Now, let me make myself clear, Lady Atha. I am not saying that you have not been doing a fine job. But you know as well as I and all the other Elders do, that you have an obligation that you must fulfil. You are nearly twenty-six and the law will come into effect sooner than you know it. That is the purpose of your being here today."

Cagalli looked down, biting her lips a little. She tried to keep steady, as she'd prepared, but found that she had lost what she had recited to herself while in the car. At this point, she could only speak and hope that her sincerity would carry her through.

"My Lord, I assure you that Orb is of utmost priority to me. For that reason, I do not plan to abscond from my duties, including this one. Instead, I am appealing to you and the Elders to let me postpone the effect that this law has on me." Cagalli kept her gaze as firm as his, willing herself not to look away. Perhaps, she realized, she hadn't needed a script after all. Gone were the days of the eleven year old child who had stumbled and stuttered before her father, and in that girl's place was someone who wasn't afraid of making requests.

And ultimately, Cagalli knew that this was one. There was no point arguing against the law or to point our that her father had gotten away with it— that would only turn the Elders against her.

The old man in his wheelchair had coughed once, making a wheezing sound echo into the air of the room. He said nothing, but raised his gnarled old hand and waved it in the air, a bit like a tree and its branch rattling in the wind.

The Elders had a variety of looks on their faces. Some had suggested either contempt or condescending pity for Cagalli, some looked sympathetic like Lady Sahaku, and some simply looked curious. She had ignored them all, focusing on the main obstacle that she had to clear.

"And why, might I ask, Lady Atha?" He had said in a voice that reminded her of a hedgehog with amputated spikes. That, or maybe, a toilet brush. "Why ask for a postponing when you are bound by the Orb law regarding yourself?"

She had bowed her head, trying to be respectful to the old crab who unlike the others, seemed more neutral and willing to listen.

"My Lord, I am still recovering from the aftermath of the incident." Cagalli had said clearly, raising her eyes to look directly at him, knowing that he would falter with her intent gaze. "I am more than willing to comply with the law, hence my presence here today. But I ask for time, my Lord."

And indeed, the Head of the Elders had, although the other elders began to mutter amongst themselves.

She spoke once more. "At this point, I cannot obey the law even if I intend to. I have only just returned to work, and there are so many things that I struggle to regain my competence in, my Lord. I would rather abdicate than follow in my father's footsteps, my Lord, for he was an anomaly and I do not want to be one too." She made herself sound humble. "But my Lord, with all due respect, I simply cannot marry in this state and at this point. Save for my office, I can scarcely leave the house without feeling as if I am not safe."

Hiding the lies within the truth. She'd learnt that from him.

The old man thumped his walking stick loudly, causing the rest of them to hush immediately. "I understand." He looked at those around him. "That is not to say that I will accede to your request, Lady Atha. You have yet to find favour with my learned, fellow Elders."

She looked gratefully at him, aware that she was still treading on dangerous ground because he had still to go through the process of deliberation. Still, there was hope, Cagalli realized. As she watched them, the Elders began to speak, and Cagalli watched them eagerly, praying for the best.

"My Lord," One of the former Hamiliton Ladies spoke up gratingly, "Do you understand the complications that will follow if you allow the Princess of Orb to flout these laws? Delaying is the same as flouting!"

Another elder nodded. "Why set a dateline there if it can be pushed?" He shook his head. "This is unbecoming behavior!"

"Future leaders will be able to postpone their state duties, too won't they? Why have a law if it is not being enforced?" One turned to Cagalli with a frown. "Lord Uzumi used to get past the law when we were too lax about it. Are we to repeat the same mistake?"

"Maybe it was my fault," the Head Elder cut in. He nodded, thumping his stick in time to his nodding. "Maybe I was too lenient on that sly young fellow."

Cagalli wondered why she'd never quite seen her father as being sly or cunning or devious like all these Elders did. But seeing that her very presence had been the result of his persistent delaying and squirming ut from the reach of the law above him, she understood their concerns.

"My Lord, you cannot say that!"

"Yes, my Lord, he was the one who found excuse after excuse not to do his duty! And for that reason, you cannot allow this to happen again with his daughter!"

Cagalli flinched, but nobody was looking at her. They were all engaged within their own bickering.

"But you have to admit that it worked out well in the end." One Lady spoke up. "Even if Lord Uzumi was rather devious where the law was concerned, he still chose a fine heir."

" Maybe the law is too draconian in our times." The Head Elder muttered. "Maybe the age is far too young for any Orb Head to feel secure with the obligations at hand."

"My Lord, I agree entirely with you." One Elder was nodding. "According to the most recent census, most young women who are not even as well-qualified or with such responsibility as Lady Atha choose to get married at the age of about twenty seven to thirty years old. What more Lady Atha, who bears such a burden on her shoulders and has so much to consider?"

Cagalli felt a wave of relief, but she knew that she could not speak to sway the decision. She would only be allowed to watch.

"But what if Lady Atha never fulfils her duty?" Another demanded. "By that reasoning, one could push it until she chose to step down!"

"My learned fellow Elders," Lady Sahaku interjected politely, but with a glint of steel that had made the rest sit up, "I pray that you do not misunderstand Lady Atha in your eagerness to ensure the best for Orb. I believe that she does not wish to flout these laws and the rules that are in Orb's best interests."

"I agree, my Lady," One Lord who had been from the House of Lyadov spoke too. "It is wrong to assume that allowing one Orb Head to delay the effect the law has on her will allow the others to abandon their duties where time is of the essence."

"But the danger arises!" cried one Lord who previously been an Emir from Hamiliton. He faced the Head Elder with a huge frown on his face. "The floodgates are easily opened and not so easily closed, my Lord, the floodgates!"

"Personally," another Elder rebutted, "I do not see Lady Atha's circumstances as being common circumstances that any Orb Head has struggled with, thank Haumea. Her circumstances are that of great and personal suffering, and these have affected her substantially, no doubt."

"I agree with my learned fellow Elder." Another nodded. "She has never claimed to be above the law that governs the most wretched beggar to the most privileged leader. Even when she seized power in the coup she planned during the Second War, Lady Cagalli never held onto it longer than necessary. I would like to remind this council of her address to the people right after the Second War when she spoke out against Yuna Roma Seiran's poor decisions but still acknowledged that she had committed a wrong by using that coup to overthrow him and would welcome just punishment for it."

"Nonetheless, my Lords and Ladies," Lady Sahaku added, "The then-parliament could not find a punishment for someone who'd acted to the best of her abilities in the best interests of Orb. Do we now impose a duty on someone who is trying her level best?"

"I beg to differ, Lady Sahaku," One Elder said sharply. "The duty is not one that is being imposed, but one that is being enforced under us. Lady Cagalli signed the relevant declarations after winning the post-Second War elections. It is precisely because her election into the Parliament was constitutional and lawful that she is bound by the rules that protect Orb's interests. It was her that agreed to the duties; it was her who understood what was expected of her. To be backing out of that now is not behavior that the Council or even Orb should tolerate of its Head."

"But I think us Elders can agree that the law is not meant to be an iron hand per se, my Lords and Ladies," one more Elder spoke up. "It is meant to guide with ample flexibility for each person's circumstances. And in my humble opinion, my Lords and Ladies, Lady Atha has serious circumstances to deal with. "

There were murmurs again until the Head Elder spoke once more, addressing Cagalli this time.

"Put the case that we approve of your appeal, Lady Atha." The Head Elder said heavily. "When will you feel fit to have the laws take effect on you?"

She tried to keep her voice from shaking. "I cannot say, my Lord. I understand that having an indefinite postponing is not in Orb's best interest nor in mine, for that matter. And to that effect, I leave it to the Council to decide."

He nodded, and she was ushered out. She was escorted by the Head Elder's clerk to a waiting room on a floor below, and it seemed that time had either stopped or ceased to exist as she stood, watching the world below her move; with or without her. The bodyguard waiting outside the holding room seemed to be as jittery as she was, and she half-wished she could speak to somebody. She waited and waited, and looking down at the world below made her wonder if she was trapped in some way.

Only two hours later had Cagalli been informed of the Elders' decision. Even when she bowed and took her leave, she was not sure if they really approved of her or not.

And as she took the lift down to the main entrance, Cagalli was suddenly aware that the other Emirs and Orb officials were whispering and pointing quite indiscreetly at her. But she held her head high, her chin tilted just sufficiently to suggest that nothing could bother or hurt her. She gazed at those present, who numbered nearly a hundred, and it seemed to her that the best she could do in that crowded space and that suffocating atmosphere, was to lift her head higher and try to breathe.

She spotted Ledonir Kisaka amongst them, for he had been called back by the Elders to give his input, but there was a distance between them and she could do no more than to pass him. The mumbling in the place grew louder, and some turned up their noses when she passed. But then, there were some who stepped forward to bow to her and she paused, halting the clerk who was escorting her.

Around those who'd bowed and remained in that position, their companions began to do so as well. Suddenly, more people were lowering themselves and the murmurs died away. She was still their Head; the Atha Emir who had the most say amongst the Emirs and the Head of Orb, and there was nothing they could do but to acknowledge this.

She watched them quietly as one by one, necks and backs were bent, for at the end of the day, there was not one person who could deny who she was. They knew as well as she did that she had emerged victorious from just the way she could hold her head high. Nobody required any announcement as to who she was and who she remained.

For as always, Cagalli Yula Atha, daughter of Uzumi Nara Atha, Key Emir of the Atha House, Head of Orb and the people's Princess had gotten her way.

And Cagalli kept her posture straight and her face expressionless so that the world would never suspect she was anything less than the Orb Princess. The whole hall was bowing; bodyguards, Emirs, assistants, some ministers amongst them, and people she'd once thought of as family; people who had bounced her in their laps and sang lullabies to chase nightmares away for the child. They were unable to protect her now, but she saw pride on their faces and knew that they thought she could fend for herself.

Inside, she was still trembling and desperate with worry, and within that strength and iron shell, she knew she was but a woman.

* * *

-166 days

* * *

The first time she had seen him since he'd left for the Plants, she had been entirely unprepared for his appearance.

The meeting with the Earth Alliance and Plant representatives had been weighing down her mind for weeks now, simply because Orb was not in the lead for once. Plant's economy had seen better growth over the last quarter, but Earth's had taken a downturn. Similarly, Orb's had seen a slight dip, and Cagalli was a little worried that there would be no surplus if the trend continued. It would be harder for Orb to convince others to continue the current trading agreements if it became the weakest link.

Moreover, there were plans the heads of the superpowers had been toying with— a trilateral training zone to build up a Galactic security force was an idea that had gone on since the First War. For all its brilliant, attractive benefits, Cagalli was skeptical of the good it would do for Orb to pump in its military resources into the mix. Orb's defence and military technology was without a doubt, the most advanced of all three superpowers' at the moment, and sharing it would be a disadvantage for Orb— galactic peace or not. If she ever chose to sell that technology on Orb's behalf, Cagalli decided, it would only be in the worst case scenario.

She had been moving at quite a quick pace, and she'd entered the meeting rooms that Orb had prepared within its Parliament House. As usual, with the entire crowd of the hundreds of officials from each superpower, she'd simply blurred their faces out, focused on the main points of the meeting, and waited for her turn to try to maneuver for Orb.

But it seemed to her from the start to the end that the limited media that had been allowed in to report on the superpower's bimonthly meetings were far more interested in something else. By the time she realized why the cameras seemed to be more concentrated at the Plant end of the room and at a particular row of seats, Cagalli did not have to take the stand to speak to see who was there. It was all she could do to keep her calm when she had to leave her seat to move to the head of the room and speak for Orb.

The truth was that she had not been prepared to see him there.

But then, the world had been entirely unprepared for that as well, for nobody had expected Athrun Zala to appear amongst the Plant representatives as the current Vice-Head of the Intelligence Council. He sat amongst his colleagues, quiet and grave, dressed in that white uniform revealing his status. His eyes were trained on his files, and he seemed impervious to the way the cameras were focused at him.

Next to him, Yzak Joule was in a similar uniform and taking down notes in preparation of Plant's impending turn to address. Like Cagalli for Orb, Eileen Canaver opened to set the tone on behalf of Plant. And as the military heads for both Orb and the Earth Alliance had done, the military head for Plant had to deliver a spirited argument in favor of the trilateral agreement.

Unfortunately for Yzak Joule and fortunately for the other military heads, Yzak had been bombarded with questions. The questions were neither about Plant's main stand or its reasons for believing that the costly trilateral zone was necessary. Throughout the last ten minutes, Yzak had struggled to stop the thinly-veiled questions that had nothing to do with Plant's decision. The questions directed to him seemed to refer to Athrun Zala even without express mention of the name, and Cagalli felt somewhat sorry for the increasingly irate Yzak Joule.

Even after Earth Alliance, Orb and Plant had made their primary views quite clear, the media had seemed less interested about the rationale behind it and had instead, trailed after Athrun Zala, demanding to interview him. He seemed to grow more aloof, staring at those who tried to rush at him. And yet, he said nothing and only grew more still. She would have no chance to speak to him; no chance to ask him about the painting he'd somehow kept. He had withdrawn from her as he had from the cameras and others' demands, and she had no right to try to reach him now.

With her own representatives, Cagalli left quietly, already separated from his world as a barrier of flashing lights formed across the room.

* * *

-218 days

* * *

One evening, Marlin came to visit, appearing right outside her office door as she'd been ready to go home. She had heard a knock and she'd opened it, thinking it was Aaron. But there Marlin was, holding up a pair of tickets to the evening's opening of La Boheme in the downtown part of the city.

"You know you want to see this." He said cheekily, almost as if they'd never disagreed in the past.

She found no heart to refuse him, for it seemed to her that she still wanted him as a friend.

Just for fun, they went incognito, deciding that they did not want the media's attention at all. But more than that, Cagalli knew he'd suggested it because he did not want anybody to catch a picture of them and to assume they'd gotten back together.

Their breakup had been highly publicized all over the world, and Cagalli had found it rather harrowing to have the world mourning over the loss of a couple that she personally had never been part of. Eileen Canaver had personally called up and apologized, feeling responsible for the way Cagalli and James Marlin had seemed to become distant after her disappearance. Of course, Eileen had been rather surprised when Cagalli had seemed entirely forgiving over the whole issue.

She found a pair of shades that she used while strolling down a winding street with him, and they laughed and made fun of the wigs they'd procured from their bodyguards. Cagalli had chosen a nondescript, mousy, long brown one. For Marlin, he'd swung the other way and poked a great deal of fun at the situation by going for a gangster, Rambo-style slick-back with too-tight pants that the slimmer Aaron Biliensky had lent him.

For all their ease, there was an awkwardness that had become more pronounced between them. And for all their friendly banter, she could see how he'd finally started to look his age. She'd put that in him, and seeing that had made her guilty enough to lose the inhibition of spending time with him.

All the same, Cagalli found that she still liked his company thoroughly. They enjoyed the opera tremendously, especially since the seats were particularly good ones. More than that, Cagalli experienced the thrill of having some colleagues and some very familiar faces stare at Marlin and her. Their faces held the obvious lack of recognition and puzzlement as to why these two random, obviously working-class people had managed to get top-box seats. That was far more entertaining than the opera itself, Cagalli thought.

For dinner, they caught a cab even though she protested about the exorbitant, weekend, rush-hour prices.

"Come on," He teased, opening the door. "It's not like you can't afford it. I dare you to blow your day's allowance on this ride."

The cab driver looked at the two ill-dressed, rather weedy-looking couple and raised a brow. Giggling, Cagalli had to take the dare. She paid for their trip however, stopping him when he tried to.

"I still owe you for that time," She told him bluntly, alluding to her stealing money from his wallet and catching a cab to the remand centre in Warsaw. He looked at her quietly, swallowed, and then nodded.

He took her downtown to a wonderful little bistro that saw longer queues than Cagalli had expected. It was filled with the swell of those trying to catch a bite on a Friday night, its clientele made of mostly struggling artists and poor students. They joined the crowd in paying very affordable, even low prices for huge helpings of smoked baloney, cream cheese, do-it-yourself-sandwiches, and a free flow of beer.

She picked at her food at first, a bit bemused and unused to the surroundings, but found herself settling in once she got her first bite of the tuna-mayonnaise loaf that she'd put together while jostling with a very merry bunch of people. The waitress was a bustling, matronly woman who spoke with a thick accent that Cagalli could not place, but all the same, what could be said of the service was excellent as it came mostly from the customer themselves.

Behind them, some student was hand-wrestling some beefy-looking fellow with tattoos to see who had to pay for the meal, and Cagalli ogled with fascination while eating her second sandwich. The blare of the overhead televisions showed who had just won the soccer match, and an amazing burst of sounds and cheers and some equally loud groans erupted in the crowded bistro.

There was a young waitress was on skates, and she was more efficient than Cagalli could ever imagine, doling out the napkins and the ketchup and similar items. Someone was running after her, trying to give her a slip of paper, but she ignored the person and went on doing her job.

By this time, Cagalli was on her third sandwich, and Marlin finishing his second. They moved to get more, taking the chance to look at the hand-wrestling match. The beefcake lost for some reason and roared in dismay, but then his friends around him laughed it off and Cagalli turned back to Marlin, who'd been watching her watch everything around her.

"Not bad right?" Marlin said thickly, his jaws occupied with mutton and lettuce. He smiled widely, his wig threatening to slip off, and giggling, she nodded happily. The entertainment was free, for she liked watching people, and the people here were fascinating to her.

"How did you find this place?" She exclaimed, grabbing another loaf and splitting it open. "It's fantastic!"

He leaned over conspiratorially and partially because that was the only way to be heard. "Well, to think that you work where you work and you didn't even know Orb had these places!"

She chuckled, cupping her hand to her mouth so he could hear her. "You're forgiven because you took me here!"

They had sandwich after sandwich, eating more than they really ought to have, and Marlin certainly abused Aaron's pants that night. The desert was an exquisite bread-and-butter pudding accompanied with a silky blend of coffee that seemed out of place with the non-pretentious, frankly delicious fare, and Cagalli realized that she'd laughed more than she had in a long time.

As they sat on high stools chomping through their meal with relish, the chatter and loud conversations swelled around them. Someone began to do an Irish jig, and Marlin ended up having to join in. He did the jig perfectly, although his wig faced the danger of being displaced. With the other patrons, Cagalli cheered and clapped him on.

Privately, Cagalli wondered if this was something that she'd experienced and missed since a long time ago. As the goodwill increased around them and the merriment grew quite in volume and intensity, they proposed a cheer to each other. They ended up swigging down three whole mugs each, quite contented and very, very full.

An hour later, they were walking down the streets that she recognized, for she had driven in these—the same streets that had been rebuilt after the Second War by her orders. For once, she could feel the air on her face and her hands were not preoccupied with the wheel, and Cagalli laughed and laughed at every joke he told, a little tipsy but very happy.

But she sobered when he caught her face in his hands, whispering that he was sorry for what he'd said in the past.

"Why?" She said softly. "I never blamed you, Jimmy." He expression crumbled and for a minute, the streetlamps that flickered cast a light on how broken she looked. "It was only fair for you to try to hurt me after I did that to you."

"I never imagined that you had fallen for your captor," He said ruefully. "Until you admitted it to me, of course. I nearly died of a heart attack."

Cagalli shook her head, reaching out to steady herself with the lamppost. "I don't know if I did fall for my captor." She laughed unsteadily to herself, shaking her head. "I still believe that Rune Estragon doesn't exist."

He caught her as she nearly lunged forward, holding her steady as they tried to proceed down the street to find a taxi.

"Same difference." Marlin said glumly. "There's only one person and his name is Athrun Zala." He threw her arm around his shoulder. "I knew you were hiding something from me. And you promised to do as I said during that crucial trial. We could have totally nailed it. And because we didn't, you still have the Interpol and other people questioning your motivations for being a cooperative captive."

"But Marlin," She said gently, poking what she thought was his cheek but turned out to be air. She laughed, and they both knew it sounded like a cry of pain. "He is innocent. I couldn't let his record be pulled out and his past being there for the world to scrutinize, as if he was some animal at a zoo or some weekly-feature for primetime entertainment. "

"I know." He said darkly. "But not in my books."

She shot him a questioning look, and he conceded, throwing his hands up and then regretting it immediately because Cagalli fell forward. He caught her in time. "Fine, fine, I'm bloody jealous!"

"Oh Marlin," Cagalli sighed, hiccupping a little. "I'd always love for you to be like this."

"I hate it when you say that the way you do," He muttered. Then he laughed, hugging her. "Come on, let's get us back." He studied her. "I think I better get you home—I'll get the taxi to send you back first."

"But there's so much time left." She begged, not quite sober. "What am I going to do with all that time?" She grabbed his shirt by its collar. "I don't know how to spend it—,"

There was a plea in her voice that made him want to hold her and prevent anyone else from having her. But comforting her seemed to be the only thing that he could do for her, for it was certain between them that they could not go beyond that.

While Marlin wasn't quite sure what was going on with her and Athrun Zala, he sensed it was unlikely that she would move on in every sense of the word. She was older now, but he realized she'd been trapped in the past for a long time. Even when she'd left the courts, he knew something had died in her.

"Cagalli," He said quietly, "Is everything going okay?"

"Of course! I am doing well, you know." Cagalli said brightly. "With or without—," She swayed on the spot like a plant that wasn't quite well rooted. She lifted her hands, swaying them to the beat that only she could hear. She laughed loudly, pointing randomly at the sky, both of them quite incapable of moving down the street. "See? I made the Head Elder do what I wanted— they think I'm suffering from some ordeal when I'm not— they think I'm weak but they don't realize that I'm like my father—," Her face scrunched up like she was about to cry. "I don't need anyone! I never, ever, get beaten—,"

"I know," He said carefully, trying to think straight with the alcohol suddenly surging in him. "But you can do better than that, can't you?"

"Jimmy—," She sang, "Jimmy—,"

Marlin cursed quietly under his breath, holding her to him as she suddenly sagged. "Remind me again why I never thought you'd be the crazy drunk when you were obviously hiding all that pain somewhere."

In the morning, she woke up and screeched. In the room next door, Marlin woke up with a terrible shock and bumped his head quite successfully on the bed's headboard.

"Marlin!"

"What? What?" He demanded, rushing over into the adjoining room. Without his shirt and too tight pants, he gave her another reason to yell blue murder. He shot out of the door to regain some decency, and when he got back, she had leapt out of the bed and was looking nervous.

"What happened?" Cagalli demanded. "What am I doing here?"

"Oh relax," He said wryly, ruffling his hair absentmindedly. "You slept like a log. I decided that I couldn't have the cabbie send you home, because I wasn't sure you'd be able to get past all those security locks of your own gate in your state." He shook his head knowingly. "Now I know why you don't party on Fridays."

"Eh—," She looked at him groggily, and then looked at the extremely crumpled state of the clothes she'd borrowed. "Right. The cab. Yes." And with growing realization, Cagalli said, "Ohhhh."

"Ohhh." He repeated, nodding. He laughed once. "I hope you had fun yesterday."

She got up a bit unsteadily, trying to find her shoes, peeking at him through her fringe. "I didn't puke, did I?"

"Thank God, no." He gaped at her. "Have you ever done that to some poor sod?"

"No!" She shook her head frantically. "I didn't want you to be the first."

As she tried to neaten her appearance in vain, Cagalli looked at him and smiled suddenly. Her smile warm and sincere, but suddenly, he felt like a fool. He had tried so hard for her, but she was still free to sail away wherever she wanted to go. After all, Marlin thought, she had never belonged to him.

"Thank you for doing so much for me." Cagalli said quietly. Her awkwardness increased. "It's a favour that I will repay some day."

"Did you think I was settling old favours?" Marlin said tightly. "I never owed you anything. But I wanted you to. I wanted you to accept me in return. I still do, in fact."

She shook her head, her face wan. "I'm sorry. I don't know what it was that held me back from loving you as more than a friend—even now, I don't know."

He looked weary for one second. And the boyish grin seemed to falter. "I thought so. But that's why I came to find you myself. For closure."

Hesitantly, their eyes met.

"The only thing that kept me going in that trial was the desire to protect you." Marlin said with a sigh. "I would have killed him if he had hurt you. Of course,-," He rolled his eyes. "You didn't tell me that you were lovers until the trial was over."

Cagalli looked down at their feet. "I couldn't be entirely honest. If I had told you, you wouldn't have fought to find out the truth. I had to help him prove his innocence, somehow."

"You did it at my expense," Marlin said wryly, folding his arms as he regarded her. "And you gave me the biggest, bloodiest shock of my life. I thought you'd gone crazy in that trial, defending him like that. I mean, this is the brilliant, overachieving son of a genocidal freak— that's why he was accepted back into Zaft even after that internal trial he went through back in the Plants."

She looked at him. "That's the way he seems to the world. Nobody really understands him, Marlin."

And Cagalli realized that could not claim that she did either.

"Well, whatever the case is, you can't blame me for thinking that he was a chip off the old block, eh? I got the shock of my life when you revealed you had basically shagged him like mad."

She hit him on the arm embarrassedly, half-glad they were talking so candidly and half-wishing that she didn't have to remember the trial that she'd been through. "Marlin!" Cagalli had the grace to colour. "I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't attracted to him."

"Ouch, ouch," He said cheerfully. "Okay, okay, I'll leave it at that." His expression sobered a little. "But I'm still a little confused about his decision."

"About?"

"About how willing he was to have the world think he'd done wrong things."

"Maybe he didn't have a choice—maybe there wasn't evidence to get him out of the mess." She cleared her throat a little.

"I did give that some consideration. But he still had a card he could use," Marlin said thoughtfully, "He could have used the relationship he had with you to worm his way out."

He watched her stare blankly, thinking about what he had said. But he shrugged. "Maybe he was more of a person than what I assumed about him. Maybe his old employers saw something they could still use in him." Marlin looked directly at her. "Maybe you found something you could identify with in him."

Cagalli shook her head, this time trying to focus her thoughts. "Think what you like. It's over. It's done. It was—, I don't know. A fling of sorts."

"Pretty weird situation to have a fling," He observed. Cagalli decided not to comment that it was even weirder to be standing in some hotel room having a talk about her psyche when they were both in terrible states and nursing slight hangovers. He paused. "It really wasn't Stockholm's syndrome right?"

"No!" She said vehemently, thinking of all she'd been through and what she'd been forced to play at during one point of the proceedings.

"Well, I have to admit he's pretty darn good looking." Marlin said grudgingly. "And most girls would go for pretty boy Zala."

"Good grief, Marlin!" Cagalli laughed despite herself, sinking down onto the bed and gazing up at her friend. "I can't believe you called him that!"

"Yes, he is a pretty boy, say what you like." Marlin retorted. "If Aaron thinks so, it is so. I can't believe you went for pretty boy Zala. But couldn't you have waited for me to go rescue you? Couldn't you have let me near you at least once?"

"Marlin!" She laughed, wanting to hug him and giving into that urge. It felt good, Cagalli thought, to have this release and to have this honest talk between both of them. But still, it disconcerted that they were making jokes out of everything. That normalcy itself was so disconcerting.

"I know, I know." He said wistfully. "But you've got to understand that I feel like a complete idiot for ignoring reality when it was staring at me in the face."

"And what's that reality?" She said in surprise, pulling back and looking at Marlin.

"That you love that lucky bastard." Marlin said simply. "I don't think you've ever told me that you loved him as honestly as you could, but I can see that he's put a mark on you that will never dissolve."

She shook her head. "I don't know."

Marlin watched her quietly. "Isn't he coming back to Orb?"

As far as her memory served her, she could not quite remember what happened after that. Vaguely, Cagalli could recall that she had thanked Marlin for everything and left, taking some cab back to her house. What she could remember however, was the pain of hearing his words and having them ring in her consciousness.

In the cab, the wig lopsided on her head, she was crying for something. She was crying out for everything to stop and to leave her in the past.

Even weeks after that meeting with Marlin, she could remember the old agony. Even by herself, she knew what it felt like. It was as if the surgeons had not removed the whole bullet that had been fired into her chest. She could still feel it throbbing—a lead weight too close to her heart.

* * *

-292 days

* * *

The second time she had seen him, she had known that he would be there.

When she'd spotted his name on the guest list for the autumn soiree that the Earth Alliance always held in honour of peace, Cagalli had felt something in her twist and turn.

She wasn't even sure if she had been pleased or excited or nervous or anything at all, but she'd ended up thinking about the soiree for the entire week.

Her schedule-planner had found a problem trying to fit the soiree and had told her so when he'd passed her the invitation. But staring at the names the card held, Cagalli did not hear half of what he was saying.

"There's that meeting with the Ministry of Defence's head and the Orb military's Heads, Ms. Atha, so I think we can go ahead and skip—,"

"No." Cagalli said abruptly, shutting the invitation card but not giving it back to Tim, who had stretched his hand out expectantly, all but waiting for her signal to dump it. "I'm going for this one."

"Ms. Atha," her schedule-planner, Tim, had said in surprise, when Cagalli had informed her that the soiree could be fitted in. "You used to skip this one all the time! You always commented that the Earth Alliance's planning was too fancy-pantsy and that you'd have to waste time flying to those locations the soiree's set in every year!"

Cagalli had shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "I suppose I skipped one too many times. I can't not keep up with appearances now. Besides," she tried to rationalize, "It's held in Venezia this year. I might as well go—it's lovely at this time of the year."

The clerk was looking strangely at her, his glasses almost sliding off his nose.

"And it's also just hours away from Milan." Cagalli added hastily. "Where I have to go this Thursday anyway. It doesn't make sense to rush back to Orb for the meeting with the Ministry of Defense on Friday." She waved her hand in an incredibly uncharacteristic, absent-minded way. "Put it to— to Monday, maybe."

"Yes, Ms. Atha," The clerk said haltingly, trying to appear less than astonished. "The flight to Italy has been booked already. The chauffeur will get you to the airport by nine in the night, and arrangements have been made for you to go straight to the hotel where the Orb-Italy conference will be held." He opened a book swiftly ran a finger down a long list of numbers. "I will make the arrangements to cancel the flight back to Orb and book an internal shuttle to get you to Venezia."

"It's just hours away from Milan," She repeated, almost to herself. Then she snapped back to attention. "Right, I'm going back now. Thanks, Tim." She headed back into her office, looking a little flustered.

Later, Tim remarked to his girlfriend who worked in the Ministry of Education department, "I've never heard her say 'just' and 'hours' in the same sentence before!"

She had her hair trimmed that week and she hadn't protested when Aaron had pulled her along for his weekly manicure. If he had been surprised by her lack of protest, he hadn't remarked on it. As good friends often knew, Aaron was entirely aware of why she had been in such a good mood, but he very wisely kept any comment to himself and pretended to be ignorant. Cagalli had even ended up indulging in one herself. Aaron had suggested a brilliant crimson instead of the neutral shade she usually would have picked out, and for once, Cagalli did not complain.

When Aaron sent her off to Italy, he'd gone through the usual procedures of briefing the bodyguards once more. And as she'd been prepared to board the jet, he'd grabbed her and pulled her into a bear hug. He'd whispered, "Be safe," and she'd nodded, unable to speak.

As time had passed, Cagalli had felt lesser and lesser fear and insecurity, although panic seized her at times whenever she thought she had gotten lost in a foreign place, or when she was alone for too long. This was the first time she'd left Orb after getting back from Poland, and at points, she felt incredibly insecure without her bodyguards right in front of her.

On the evening of the soiree in the Earth Alliance territory, Cagalli found herself spending an obscene amount of time preparing for the soiree. Her hotel was a quiet, luxurious one in the heart of Venezia, and it had a breathtaking view of the sea and the town-square of St. Marks. It seemed that the locals in the town square were excited about the fact that the Earth Alliance was holding a grand event in Venezia, despite their lack of invitations. The musicians seemed to be out in full force, for many had ended up visiting Venezia if only to catch a glimpse of the famous autumn soiree that had been held since the First War.

From where she was in her room, bent before a mirror and staring at her reflection, Cagalli heard the strains of music and smiled softly to herself.

She'd taken a red gown, an auburn one, and a cream-coloured one along with her. She could not recall a time when she'd brought along so many. But for this trip, she'd packed everything herself, bringing along things she could not even recall ever packing before. And even then, she'd taken an hour to decide which dress she wanted to wear, changing in and out until she nearly drove herself crazy. She'd tried on the red, thought it to be too flashy, then gone for the cream. That one had made her look somewhat washed-out, and she'd changed into the auburn, then back into the cream, and then the red one. Then she'd finally decided on the auburn, and now she studied herself, wondering if it looked a little too plain.

Of all the colours and textures, she had somehow picked out a simple auburn silk piece— rather conservative and with a colour that seemed more muted than brassy. She'd put on a bracelet first, then a pair of lovely, crystal earrings with a matching, waterfall like necklace. But then she'd felt too unnatural and had taken them off. In the end, she'd elected to wear no other accessory except the earrings and a ring around her neck, hiding its glint within hidden in the folds of her dress.

As she decided whether she ought to put on a little more rouge, or whether her lips were too red, the hotel phone rang and a bodyguard informed her that the car was ready to go. Answering quickly and guiltily, Cagalli realized that the bodyguards were waiting in the lobby downstairs, and she slipped on her shoes, all too aware that she had never delayed them in the past.

In the car, she was struck with fear and a terrible nervousness as to whether all the guests would show up. Would he? One of her bodyguards commented that she looked beautiful, but when Cagalli checked her reflection in the car, it seemed that she looked far too plain and far too understated to stand out to anyone in particular.

When they reached and she was escorted out, her hand seemed to be clammy in the escort's who opened the door for her. Worse, her smile felt weak in the light of the cameras' glares and the cries from those who could not pass the cordons. The music from the viols seemed faint and faded in her ears as she moved down the carpet and up the stairs. Truth be told, she heard only the beating in her throat and ears as she stared and looked out for one face. Much later, she wondered what had injected that hope in her.

Before dinner started, she found herself paying no attention to the Head of the Earth Alliance as he made his opening speech. And when she was called to give her own after Eileen Canaver had made hers on behalf of the Plants, Cagalli found herself looking for his face. When she spotted him quite suddenly, she paused, and it was with some difficulty that she finished her speech. The escort who led her back to her table complimented her while the applause broke out, but Cagalli heard neither his words nor the thunderous clapping as the soiree started.

Over the course of dinner, she found the opportunity to pass by, pretending to go to the punch bowl but really having her eyes glued on someone else at the next table. Before Cagalli could get to complete her pretence, Eileen Canaver had pulled her over to her table and engaged her in conversation. Instead of simply exchanging the usual words, one of the Plant ministers began to discuss some policy and required Cagalli's opinion. She found herself explaining quite distractedly, not really caring and not really comprehending what was gong on.

Yet, something about the discussion must have appeared highly interesting, for the adjacent table that she had been looking at was suddenly half-filled. People came to the table that Eileen, Cagalli and some others occupied, and for one moment, she thought that he would come too. More and more people came, engaging in the same conversation that Cagalli ended up repeating for their sakes.

But at that adjacent table, one person remained firmly rooted in his seat; that is until he left.

Cagalli did not see him leaving, for she had been compelled to face Eileen who was saying something. When she tried swiveling to look for him, she did not see him dancing or getting a drink. In the end, her neck was craned and aching slightly from her efforts to keep her eyes on the person talking to her while trying to look for him. Try as she did, she could not spot him, and it seemed that he had either disappeared into the swell of people or had never been there at all.

Then a thought struck her and she excused herself, making sure that nobody followed her before she rushed to the gazebo. She located it, sure that it was the only place which was rather isolated and therefore a place that someone would be waiting at. She found herself moving swiftly, her feet aching in the shoes that she was not used too, her hands gathering her skirts in order to climb the stairs leading to that tiny, shrub-covered pavilion. Magnolia flirted with the air and there were some low-flying moths that rose in a flurry from the tall grasses.

But she found nobody there.

* * *

-349 days

* * *

When she had been a child, she had wondered what lay beyond the gates with its foreign sounds and its delicious mysteries. The sounds of cars passing, the laughter of children possibly older than her- even the cat that disappeared for days had the privilege of the world beyond the gates. But now Cagalli knew, and she knew that no matter where she went, there would be gates she could never scale and gates that she could never destroy around her.

At times, she would wonder if she could unlock those gates, and at times, she would wonder if she had been a fool for loving someone who would have to leave. But more often than not, when Cagalli happened to come across an article featuring him or perhaps a telecast of a statement that he made on behalf of Plant's Intelligence Council, she would know exactly why she had allowed herself to be hurt.

If efforts were tantamount to penitence, Cagalli was forgiven, for did try to move on. Moving on was not her choice but a new duty, given the successful postponementof an impending engagement. She allowed herself to be kissed at times if it was a peck on the cheek. She came to hope that a camera would capture the moment so that some kind of notice would be served to the Elders and so that Ernest Rohm would not show up at her office.

She dutifully dolled up for the necessary occasions to remind the Council of Elders that she was still capable of following their wishes and showed a little skin for the media's sake. She danced where necessary and refrained for most part, preferring to seek out pets that had been brought along to soirees.

The only problem was that efforts— specifically, hers— never amounted to success.

She found herself attracted to certain men who made it a point to be forthcoming with her. If someone she took notice of gave her a flitting glance, she would not think much of it. But if he did more than that, she made it a point to reciprocate. Like them, she was attracted by all the wrong reasons— reasons that led to notice the gaping chasm of her life. She never went beyond prolonging a conversation, however; she was too absorbed in dissecting and analyzing why she had even been attracted to others. And most of the time, she was miserable to realize that the answer was the problem in the first place.

* * *

-378 days

* * *

"You don't say!" Vino exclaimed, holding up some online article that he'd printed out and was currently shoving under Meyrin's nose. "Does this mean that the Orb Princess will get to be an old maid if she wants to be one?" His eyes widened excitedly and he seemed to vibrate with tension. "But she's so pretty! She's kinda hot too! Yolande thinks so, and Yolande's got the best taste, even if he is a bit of a leg-fetish guy—,"

His rhapsody was cut short by Meyrin's cupped palm over his mouth.

"Vino!" Meyrin said embarrassedly. "Please don't let anyone hear you talking like that in public." She let go very slowly, as if prepared to stopper her friend's mouth with her fist if he continued. "And frankly Vino, that's pretty old news."

"Hey!" He pouted, making her laugh. "Just because you're working with the high-up politicians and get to hear all the news first doesn't mean you can look down on me like that, Meyrin!"

She shook her head, taking a bite of a sandwich. "Nah, it's not old news even by that standard." She pointed at the date where the article had been released. "It was released a few months after the end of the court trial. That makes it—," She paused in realisation, thinking about the glimpse of Athrun Zala that she'd caught two days ago when he'd visited the branch of the Plant Ministry of Foreign Affairs that Meyrin worked in. "More than a year ago."

"Well then," Vino said disappointedly, beginning to turn back to his ice-cream. "I guess it is rather old news." He licked the cone pathetically, hunching his shoulders in a semi-sulk. Then he thought of something and brightened up. "Hey, have you heard about Athrun Zala's promotion?"

"Old news." She told him straightfacedly. Two butterflies darted behind Vino and disappeared behind a bush.

"He's cool isn't he?" Vino's eyes sparkled in his peaky face, and with some difficulty, Meyrin forced herself not to think of his old nickname, 'Tomato-squirt'. "I say, he's going to be working for the Intelligence Council—how funky is that?" He pulled his knees up, not caring that his sneakers were now on the park bench. "Say, do you see him since you work in politics too, Meyrin?"

She thought of the glimpse of Athrun Zala that she'd caught a while ago. He'd been at that particular branch of Foreign Affairs that Meyrin was working at, and she had not been able to speak a word to him. He'd been far too busy and too tightly surrounded by bodyguards, as had been some of his other colleagues from the Intelligence Council.

"Not really." She told Vino. "We're too busy to talk most of the time, you know. And he's in the Intelligence Council—it's not part of the Foreign Affairs divison." She paused, thinking of the proposal that Athrun Zala and a few other members of the Intelligence Council were to be part of. "Well, not really, even if there are some overlapping areas of work."

"And here I was, coming to visit you in Aprilius during my training break, hoping to have some nice conversation starter." Vino sighed, looking like a poor little puppy that couldn't get its owner's attention.

Meyrin giggled, leaning back against the park's bench. "Oh come on, that's not even a good conversation starter. No controversy whatsoever."

"That's true." He mumbled. "I bet nobody protested against the Council of Elders' decision regarding Cagalli Yula Atha."

"Of course not. Why would they? It seems fair."

Vino put his arm around her affectionately. "Say, Meyrin, speaking of fairness, will you buy me another of those cones?"

She raised an eyebrow. In the park that was near to the office that Meyrin spent a great deal of time in, there were much younger Coordinator children staring at Vino, who seemed to be a too-tall, slightly weedy looking child himself. "Why would you need another?"

"I like these," He whined. "We're best friends, remember? I don't get a chance to eat ice-cream much in the barracks, so buy me another, okay? You're the one who's making your mark in your work; I'm just some poor grease-monkey."

"Excuse me, Vino, you just got promoted recently!"

"Yeah, to senior grease-monkey!"

She laughed, unable to be anything but cheerful with someone like that. "Alright, alright."

* * *

-406 days

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Biliensky!" His personal assistant passed him a stack of files and a cup of coffee that he took with a quick nod and without a bat of an eyelid.

"I want those in by today, Saffie, " He called over his shoulder. "No more delays, got it?"

"Got it, Mr. Biliesnky!"

He tucked the files under his arm, downing his coffee with the efficiency of a machine. There were at least ten people in this narrow corridor, their discussions and their mutters making it feel like there were thirty people in here. But that could not be helped—this was the main corridor in the Parliament House on level three where every worker had to sign in before moving on to their offices.

Someone passed him. "Morning, Mr. Biliensky. I like your tie."

"Morning, Ron." He returned. "Glad you do—I like it too."

As Aaron moved, Ronald Hareesh, the clerk to the deputy minister of foreign affairs and a dozen others thought that Aaron Biliensky seemed ready to take on the world. Aaron Biliensky had already tossed the cup into some bin and was pouring through the files while on the move. He barely looked up from those to look at anyone, already increasing the speed of his walking pace.

There was quite a lot to do this morning, Aaron thought vaguely to himself. Cagalli would need to look through the latest amendments of the bills. The parliament debate about certain amendments in the Companies Act would be coming up soon and she had to get those done. As Aaron understood it, the Emirs from Lyadov were quite firmly against the idea of removing protectionist measures, and Cagalli was not going to have an easy time.

He got into the lift, waving to someone he knew just before the doors closed. The lift was jam-packed with people reporting for work, and Aaron knew it would be jam-packed for the next hour. No wonder Cagalli always drove and arrived two hours early every morning. Other started at nine, but she started at eight.

On the fifth floor, he got out, intending to pass these files to someone else to approve.

"Morning, Aaron!" One of his lunch buddies from the Home Affairs Ministry called out, and Aaron waved as a manner of greeting, not slowing down as he marched past those who were moving along the general corridor.

Bradley Cole from the Economic Development division slapped him on the back as he passed. "Yo."

"Hey-," Aaron swung back, stuffing half the files into Bradley's arms. With the remainder of those, he kept his feet in the direction they'd been set in, not slowing his pace at all. "I need those files I passed you yesterday about this millennium, Brad."

"Yeah, I'll get them over by lunch time!" Bradley's irreverent voice and cheeky face disappeared as Aaron turned a corridor. While moving to another's office, Aaron flipped and sped-read while travelling on a route he knew so well that he didn't even have to look up to know where he was going.

"Good morning, Mr. Biliensky." Someone piped up timidly.

"Morning." Aaron said haphazardly to himself, drinking his coffee, balancing a file with the crook of his elbow and marching past the new clerk who was apparently interning with someone from the Home Affairs decision. Was her name Nora or Norleen or Dora or something like that? He shrugged inwardly—he'd been introduced to her by another colleague the other day, and frankly, she had been too normal for him to remember her.

As he strode past her, he would have moved past without stopping. But at the last minute, he caught sight of her gently tousled, new hairdo. The fringe was slanted, layered, very wispy, and highly flattering. There was also a nice, daring streak of honey-dye to highlight it, and that made Aaron's head turn for a second. A smile leapt to his lips as he whirled around, observing her hairdo. "I like that 'do, Dora."

"Thanks!" She paused, turning back to him and grinning. Thankfully, Aaron had gotten her name right. He congratulated himself on it, giving her the thumbs up and preparing to add speed and zoom off to discuss certain amendments with the clerk he was looking for.

"Oh, and the name's Noreen, by the way!" She said sweetly. "Noreen Jalaprine." He blanched and offered a weak smile, knowing his boo-boo was too big to cover up. Next time, he noted to himself, he would have to avoid using names of people he wasn't sure about at all. "Sorry, dear. You looked like a Dora to me."

"It's okay you know," She told him cheerfully. "It's not like I'm Ms. Atha or some big shot whose name is plastered all over the news." She jabbed a thumb randomly at some communal news rack that the fifth floor of the Parliament house had. They shared a chuckle, although the bitchier side of Aaron was wondering whether her parents had been on crack when they'd given her a name that read together with her surname like a brand of canned vegetables.

"Well, I'm off, Noreen." He said conversationally, quite intent on ending the very conversation she seemed keen to continue.

But as he nodded to her, he noticed the rack of newspapers and magazines that made him halt entirely. His eyes widened, and he abandoned his files into a nearby chair and strode over to the newsrack.

Noreen noticed him staring hard at those and came closer. "Mr. Biliensky, is everything fine?"

Aaron turned to the young intern. His voice was no longer chirpy but harsh. "No, it's not fine. These are outdated. Get these off the rack, now."

"Wha-?"

"I want these destroyed." He moved to the rack, ripping off all the magazines his hands could get his hands on. He dumped them into the waste bin, grabbing the remainder from the rack and stuffing them in. The bin was filled with them to the point that the news seemed to be overflowing from it, and vehemently, Aaron stomped them in to get everything to fit. "Clear this bin. Then go to the seventh floor and the top floor. I want all these magazines cleared. All of these, do you hear?"

"I don't understand!" Noreen protested, taking the bin that he'd forced into his hands and peering at him. "These are barely two days old, Mr. Biliensky! I heard-,"

"Don't question me, Dora." Aaron said sharply. He stalked back to the chair, getting his files in his hands again. "Do it fast."

The girl shrugged, taking it from him and then gathering the bundles of magazines and papers into her hands, crumpling a dozen or so pictures of the same person. She looked at Aaron, her expression puzzled.

"I know it's none of my business, Mr. Biliensky," the intern said softly, "But wasn't Ms. Atha and he—,"

"You're right, Dora." Aaron told her, turning away. "It's none of your business."

He moved off, leaving her staring at what she had been asked to dispose.

* * *

-409 days

* * *

If she'd been aware that time was making her colder to the world, then seeing a report on him attending some function with someone hanging off his arm had been the moment when she been unable to ignore the distance between them.

As she flipped on the television now, Cagalli caught sight of him again. His eyes were focused generally and almost casually on the primetime interviewers, and his enunciation was as clear and precise as she could recall.

Cagalli's hand moved to the control quite automatically, except that this time, she decided not to turn away. The interviewers were asking questions about the latest collaborations between the Intelligence Council and Plant's Ministry of Defence.

As Athrun answered, Cagalli understood how natural it was for the female interviewer's cheeks to be slightly pink and for the male interviewer's expression to be that of slight distrust but similar awe. There was that magnetism to him; that strange draw of power and charisma that radiated from his person.

In that white uniform that seemed to become him, Athrun looked composed and as steady as he'd always seemed in still pictures. He was the picture of calmness and rational thought, and his answers never seemed to hide or give away too much. And yet, Cagalli knew that when the interview ended, those asking the questions and those watching would know little more than when they'd first asked.

She knew from personal experience.

Perhaps Athrun had been sent to take this interview to tear down the allegations of Zaft building up too much power for its own good. After all, he dodged and deflected the trickier questions without much effort, and his use of rhetoric was both ambiguous and satisfying at the same time. When the questions turned personal as to why he'd been selected to become a Vice-General, he'd merely granted a small, insincere smile that had signaled the interviewers to remember their place.

Wherever he was and whoever he was with, Cagalli decided, Athrun Zala was doing fine.

A sudden anger rose in her and she tried to press the button of the control. But the strength of her temper seemed to leave even as something burned in her, and she could only watch as he performed his script.

"According to the statement, you have been alternating between Plant and Scandinavia for some time. Can you share some thoughts on this? With reference to your work, of course."

She watched him issue a curt nod. "It's been a fulfilling time and a very exciting experience for the new developments within security forces and diplomats."

"That doesn't tell anyone anything, does it?" Cagalli muttered. She continued watching, even thought she should have been smart enough to turn away.

"We understand that you represent Plant's Intelligence Council but act as a military trainer for Zaft elites, Vice-General. Can we understand how you balance both jobs?" The male interviewer looked at him interestedly.

"These are intrinsically related," He said briefly. "The Intelligence Council is a major part of the security of Plant and Zaft, to that extent, serves the same role although in a slightly different way."

"Can the viewers understand where exactly is this place within Scandinavia?"

"That is classified information." There was that firmness to his voice that she recognized, and his lack of apology made it quite clear where he thought they had stepped over the line. "Scandinavia's Head, Erik Strumsson, kindly allowed Plant to continue its training within the place and has been working with the Head General of Zaft to strengthen bilateral ties."

"As I understand this, Vice-General," The other interviewer probed, "You were assigned to manage this training area. Given that you were once an Intelligencer for Plant that was posted to Scandinavia, how do you face the suspicion that the Scandinavian authorities must have?"

Athrun Zala's answer came without hesitation. "Regardless of my past duties, this an area that signifies a common understanding and mutual benefit for Scandinavia and Zaft's military skills. Area Thirty-Seven is nothing more and nothing less than the result of the High King Erik Strumsson and the Plant Supreme Council's common understanding."

They continued to probe him about Area Thirty-Seven, a cluster of islands as it had been alleged to be, but he skillfully deflected their questions until they were quite convinced that he would not say anymore about the place and for that matter, himself.

No matter how much he was surrounded by these cameras and with microphones shoved under his nose, Cagalli decided, and no matter how many conspiracy theories were published in books month and month for these past three years, Athrun Zala would always have that cold politeness; that control and unmistakable enigma that the media would never penetrate.

She'd heard reports that some people had damaged his modest apartment by somehow getting through security, and it was rumoured that it was an inside job because some other Zaft officers hated or envied him. It made sense to Cagalli, for he had never bothered to be more than polite and coldly courteous, and few people would try to understand him when he appeared so aloof.

Even now, there was that wall between him and the interviewers. He had no clear habit; no clean sign of nervousness; no will to pander or even to reject the affections of the media that he'd gained recently.

From his childhood experiences, Cagalli thought, he must have realised that people's affections and dislike could change and alternate within hours. With some misery, she recalled the trial and realized that she would have cemented that belief he had as well.

Cagalli stared at him, looking at how he did not seem to have changed at all, even if he had slight dark circles under his eyes and his mouth seemed more inclined to frown as she saw it. He had somehow grown older, but then he seemed to have become a person that had settled himself into a background that he could mostly blend in with. He did not seemed to have changed; only flourished somehow.

But much had changed, and Cagalli was certainly aware of it, despite Aaron's efforts to keep any news of Athrun Zala away from her. She had caught Aaron stuffing magazines into a bin the other day, and she'd waited until he'd left before going to look in the bin. There, she'd found magazines that she lifted and looked through.

The news was going around that he'd been together with some other general's daughter, whom she'd seen in the photograph just recently. Cagalli had gazed at the smiling, pretty girl with the classic oval face, those large, emotive grey eyes and soft brown locks. Her dress revealed a great deal of her figure, and Cagalli had looked at her and wondered if Athrun was treating her well.

From another magazine, she'd heard that the soldiers all looked up to him. She'd heard that he had succeeded in presenting the new plans for Zaft to the Supreme Council- the same plans that his superiors had drafted out.

Nothing could deter him. Nothing made him speak even when the cameras had been flashing in his face and his hair and cheek was stained with a tomato that someone had lobbed at him- or even a cut on his chin when it was rumored that his visit to Scandinavia had drawn out quite a few angered people.

Looking at that cold, firm face, she knew that nothing would be capable of getting in his way. It was precisely why he was perfect as the Zaft's spokesperson and precisely why approval or contempt had no effect on him.

She watched as the interviewers and Athrun Zala talked, expecting to feel emotion; expecting to feel some kind of pain or anguish or even betrayal at the way she still dreamt of him returning to hold her and take her hand in his. But she was proud of herself for only feeling a dull ache in her chest— a dull ache that hurt less every day because she was learning not to feel.

On television, Athrun Zala's eyes moved. He was no longer looking indifferently at the interviewers. His gaze was suddenly focused at the camera, and there was a sudden vulnerability in his expression. Despite her better judgment, she looked at the image of him staring back at her and knew that his moving on could not cause her more agony than seeing him like this.

In that moment, Cagalli knew she could not withstand anymore and the finger on the right button finally moved to spare her the pain of recollection.

* * *

-433 days

* * *

Ernest Rohm was the kind of person that Cagalli was wary of but respected all the same. He was one cool customer and very, very clever. Strangely enough, he never gave off an air of overwhelming power even if the authority his posture carried was very clear. But then, that made him as lethal as he was. As the assistant to the Head Elder of Orb and the spokesperson the Council employed, he was used to dealing with the media and especially the more difficult of Orb nobles.

From his appearance at her office, Cagalli understood that she was one in his eyes.

"Your Grace," He said courteously, ignoring the tea that she had asked someone to bring in. "I will keep my visit short because you are a busy person."

She understood what he was saying— he was a busy person. She watched him across her overburdened work table, the lights in the office reflecting off his glasses and the pale blue hair and sharp red eyes. An albino in appearance, Ernest Rohm could make even the most high-handed, high-strung Orb Noble feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Your Grace, the Council of Elders has sent me to remind you that their decision is not one that you can merely take for granted."

"No, no, of course not." She felt a tiny tremor in her. Frankly, she did not know what Ernest Rohm had been instructed to say, although a great deal of instinct had tuned her to what he might be likely to. There were allegations in the newspapers recently that she had simply wrapped the Council around her finger and escaped her obligations.

"Your Grace, I have been sent in light of the reports that you chose to turn down invitations to quite a few galas."

She could remember. She had spent all those weekends cooping herself up at home, and she was aware that her refusal to turn up at certain functions had made the Council of Elders annoyed. "I was busy, I—,"

"Of course." He said directly, cutting off. His already thin lips pursed a little more, and for that second, she wasn't even sure how old he really was. "Of course." He nodded once at her in a way that made her understand exactly what he was getting at. "The council sent me to remind you that the postponement is not meant to be a delay but a chance for you to recover."

"Mr. Rohm," Cagalli said quietly, "What do they want of me?"

He did not blink. "They ask that you use your discretion wisely."

She looked at him, swallowed, then said, "Of course."

* * *

-458 days

* * *

"All rise."

The judges bowed, as did the parties, the counsel and the members of the public who'd managed to get seats in the viewing gallery. There were plenty more waiting outside, but courtroom twelve of the Orb Supreme Court was packed.

The judges took their seats, and the leading judge cleared his throat a little. "I will now read out the summary of judgment regarding suit no. thirty-eight, Atha v. Magnus Printing and Publishing Corporation." Next to him, his legal clerk was typing furiously.

"The appellant raised the point contending the constitutionality of the control of the media in Orb. With regard to this, the Orb Supreme Court has considered the arguments the respondent's counsel offered, particularly Article Five two and Seventy-three one of the Intergalactic Declaration of Human Rights."

The reporters were scribbling like mad.

"The articles respectively state that all humans have a right of freedom of speech and the right to demand truthful governmental procedure respectively. The appellant has offered case law from both Plant and Earth Alliance jurisdictions to argue that the freedom of speech will be tempered if Ms. Atha's claim is to succeed and that is why her claim is unconstitutional. Moreover, the respondent argues that the very control the Orb Parliament has over the media with the presence of the Media Control Act is unconstitutional."

Gerard Locuqantine, Cagalli Yula Atha's legal counsel, looked at his hands nervously. For all his seasoned style and court practice, he was near to breaking point. He could not bear to look at his client, who was seated next to him. He was aware that behind him and mere meters and a glass barrier away, there were plenty of reporters from the local and international communities. While photography was not allowed, the caricaturists were working overtime to sketch the parties' profiles.

"We have decided that the authority the appellant cited cannot be directly applied to the situation at hand. The right of freedom of speech is firstly, rooted in the context of preventing genocides and to allow discourse. While the respondent would argue in the sole context of the second point, Orb has only ratified its laws according to its needs. We are, at the end of the day, a superpower that welcomes both Coordinators and Naturals and free speech is not a right but a privilege tempered by good faith, due diligence, and above all, moral responsibility."

Once again, the reporters present were working overtime, as was the caricaturist in the corner.

"To this end, we find that the appellant has exercised little of the necessary. With regard to the right for all citizens of any state to demand truthful government procedure, we hold that the very fact that the appellants have been allowed to bring their claim is in itself, truthful and even generous government procedure. If anything, the context of this particular right is in the light of the previous bloody Valentine Wars where exaggerated figures were used to cajole citizens into embarking on war even though this may not have been necessary. Here, the respondent gave blown-up, even grossly inaccurate depictions of Ms. Atha which was no more truthful or convincing than the lies a child would tell. The respondent never ventured to hide the past event, painful as it probably was for her. In any case, details of the past event are not part of government procedure, given that the relevant information has long been disclosed to the public after the court decision regarding that case. For these reasons, we have rejected the arguments the appellant has made."

There was a titter from the viewing gallery. The reporters were scribbling madly and the public viewers were whispering loudly. The bailiffs themselves were talking. Frankly, Gerard Locquatine was sweating himself dry. While he was rather experienced and had more than a few grey streaks to prove it, Gerard had been on tenterhooks the whole morning and even within the three-day trial. The week of adjournment for fact-finding had been very stressful, and Gerard Locquantine was entirely exhausted at this point. His firm had handled high-profile defamation cases before, but dealing with someone like Cagalli Yula Atha and perhaps her advisors was another area altogether.

"After considering the merits of both the appellant and respondent's arguments in this Supreme Court," The judge looked up from his documents and frowned a little. ""I will affirm the judgment of the Orb High Court and hold in favor of the respondent."

Gerard Locuqantine could have pumped his fist into the air. The chatter from the viewing gallery broke out, although it was mostly numbed by the thick glass panel separating the parties and the public.

Triumphantly, he turned to look at his client, expecting her tense silence to melt away; expecting the usual congratulatory handshake or the compliments or the gratefulness that the successful clients heaped on him on a rather normal basis. Usually, when a person sued and won, Locuqantine could expect a nice thank-you dinner.

She was only staring ahead.

"Counsel for Ms. Atha has shown that on the facts, Ms. Atha certainly did not conspire with the alleged intelligencers from the Plants. Nor did Ms. Atha fraternize in any sense of the word, with a certain intelligencer. As a matter of policy and international agreements, to have the intelligencer's name mentioned will be another issue for the respondent to deal with should Plant choose to pursue this matter. With regard to Ms. Atha's, the appellant has failed to prove that the allegation was more than malicious hearsay and at the root of it; rumors. Therefore, the judgment in the lower court for Ms. Atha has been affirmed. "

Gerard was still staring at his client. Seated next to him in a clean, well-pressed dark suit, she looked rather human. He hadn't noticed it at any point because he'd seen her so little in person, but Cagalli Yula Atha seemed to be younger than he'd ever realized.

It was then that he wondered if she'd been his client or her advisors had been his client.

Even though Gerard's winning strategy was often to interview all witnesses and his clients very thoroughly, he hadn't been able to speak more than twice and briefly with his client. It was mostly her advisors giving Gerard and he suspected, Cagalli Yula Atha, instructions. It was mostly their demands that directed his service. Each time he had met her to understand the facts of the defamation case better, he'd ended up being none the wiser as to what she felt about the allegations that formed the basis of her claim. His own client was an enigma. As the adage went, the lawyer's worst enemy was often his very own client.

"And thus, the appellant will have to subsume the respondent's legal costs and the same punitive damages that the Orb High Court awarded to the respondent will also apply. The injunction preventing Magnus Corporation from printing the book containing the unsavory allegations will also be granted. Court adjourned." The three judges stood, ignoring how pale and feverish the head of the printing company, that is, the appellant, looked.

"Your Honour!" The appellant was on his feet, despite his legal counsel's efforts to restrain him. "That's not fair—basic damages are bad enough given what she's asking for—,"

The leading judge frowned. "Are you contesting the final judgment of this court?"

The appellant was babbling now. "But it's true! Even this court—," He looked around angrily. "It's afraid of the Orb Princess! That's why this is the outcome of the case! This is a kangaroo court, it is!"

One of the three judges spoke. "The appellant will be held in contempt of the court. As my learned fellow judge has said, court is adjourned."

"All rise." The bailiff rapped smartly, cutting the appellant off entirely. They all stood and bowed as the judges did the same and moved off to their chambers.

As Gerard collected his things, sweeping his papers into a bag, he wanted to ask her how she felt about winning.

But she had begun to walk towards the door, and as she moved out, he glimpsed her bodyguards swarming around her to fend off the reporters.

Gerard knew in that moment that there was no concept of winning or losing for his client. She'd won this case and the injunction and order to cease printing was executed, along with damages and an apology from the appellant. But now others would talk behind her back and say that she'd frightened the court into ruling in her favour.

Outside the courtroom, the leaves were falling in swirls and almost violent clips of air and dried paper-like shapes. The media were allowed their cameras here, and the lights would have blinded her if she had not been used to it. As she shook her head, refusing comment, trying to move where the guards were directing her, she felt her hands clench. The appellant was also surrounded by the media, except that he was talking.

"It's true!" His voice was a cry. "I had a reliable source! One of the nobles from Orb! Within the courts— he saw the proceedings; he heard exactly what she said!" His eyes were wild at the prospect of his printing firm going bankrupt to pay off the damages. "She said she'd asked Athrun Zala to send the letters for her!"

"How can that be?" One reporter was calling. "Who's this source?"

Another was yelling, "Are you even reliable? I mean, you say you have this source, but why hasn't any other person who was allowed in the court saying anything?"

"It's some court secret, right?" Some others were comparing notes.

Cagalli only spoke when she'd gotten into the car, heard the car door close, and ventured to open her eyes as the car sped off.

Her aide for that day, Sarkis Rondeau, noted that she was pale but did not comment. That was not his role. He drove on, trying to move on even as plenty of reporters tried to cling onto the car. Her silence unnerved him, and he snuck glances at her in the review mirror. Her chin was tilted in apparent defiance, but he saw that her eyes seemed to have changed.

And when she finally spoke, he found her voice unrecognizable. "Find out who breached the Official Secrets Act for me."

"Yes, Your Grace."

* * *

-488 days

* * *

When she met him again, enough time had passed for her to learn not to expect.

She would never expect him to look at her or to even see her, and the nature of their meetings supported that. Their meetings were mostly coincidental and infrequent, and it seemed that each time she saw him; they were more and more distant. Sometimes their eyes met each others'— cool and testily; sometimes with the kind of blankness she was grateful for, and sometimes with a light unwillingness.

Each time she saw Athrun Zala, the distance grew between them. It did not matter whether she saw him in person or on some broadcast. To see him in person simply meant that she would catch a glimpse of him in some random walkway or some little corridor of some building the both of them happened to be in. It was as infrequent, as unplanned and as fleeting as catching a glimpse of that face on some channel that she would switch away from.

But it would be better, Cagalli thought, if they had lived where there was no way of meeting or hearing about each other. That would have been more bearable than walking in this way—past each other, past their entourages, facing the opposite end of the corridor that the other had come from. Living where he did not exist would be better than seeing pictures of him in magazines or perhaps his face amongst others' on gigantic screens of buildings one street away.

Still, between all these chance meetings, Cagalli learnt how to hide herself away from even those who cared. Kira tried to visit her once a fortnight with his family, and she would make preparations for his visit each time; buying fresh things for the refrigerator, the house and even the tables. Every time he came, she would ensure that the flowers were freshly arranged, the place looked in order, and she looked as if she was getting on fine. She would laugh with Lacus and play with her nephew, and those around her would think that she didn't wake up with a tear-soaked pillow at night.

A month ago, she had been compelled to attend a Derby race in Europe. She'd donned her dress and gloves and a hat that weighed her down but looked infinitely more austere than any of the others present. She'd grown tired of watching each country's racer whip the life out of their finest horses, and she'd visited the stables and asked for permission to see some horses.

But even when she'd been ready to step into a stall and look at the supposed champion of the previous race, Moonbolt Rex III, she had caught sight of him in an adjacent stall. There had been so little of that sophistication she'd seen; so little of that polished elegance and cultured façade she'd seen him wielding with the equally jaded looking lady who'd hung off his arm today.

He'd looked up from where he'd been half-stooped and apparently talking to himself. He had been feeding the colt hay like a common farmhand even while dressed in his suit, his expression boyish and unguarded and his gloves stuffed irreverently in his pocket so he could stroke the young animal.

A smile had nearly found a way onto her lips.

He'd been as startled as her and he'd opened his mouth to say something, but she'd turned and fled for a reason she could not quite put her finger on, let alone articulate.

And today, she had caught a glimpse of him in the corridor and he never did stop to look or speak to her. But it didn't matter, for she was both glad that he didn't, and glad that she had gone past the point of wanting him to turn back. With her entourage, she would move in the direction of Orb's representatives, and he with his colleagues to the Plant representatives.

They never faced each other directly, for she was the main representative and he just one of the many from Plant in that situation. As it was, it ought to have been enough to watch him walk by; it ought to have been that Cagalli could lift her head and look at him without wanting him to even spare a glance for her.

It didn't matter that they'd once been pressed close to each other within the confines of a four-cornered space with no way to hide their secrets and with only the symmetry of their bodies to guide their comprehension of the world.

The way they'd once told each other of the pets they'd wanted or managed to keep and the way they'd laughed over his childish cat drawing had dwindled into the distance. It mattered little that they'd once been bound to each other by their very lives and their very dreams, but it mattered more that they moved past each other without sparing a glance. All in all, the fact that they lived in the same galaxy mattered no more than the past.

It only mattered that time had passed since then and that there was something slightly broken about her and something passive and cold about him that had become part of their characters.

* * *

-491 days

* * *

In the Joule Estate, Ezalia had just received her visitor. The butler closed the door, giving the friends their privacy, and with great joy, Ezalia stood up, holding Kitani Harumi's hands gladly in hers. "It's good of you to come by."

"I promised you I would." Harumi said quietly. "I had a chance to come here to the Plants for a bit."

Ezalia had heard that there was trouble brewing in some Earth colonies. Apparently, the old conflicts were brewing again because there had been a bit of a bearish economy lately. Tensions were high in areas were the inequalities between Coordinators and Naturals tended to be clearer, and Harumi was facing difficult controlling both businesses underground and in legitimate circles.

"Are you planning to withdraw your businesses from the Plants?" Ezalia said directly. Between the two friends, there was no need to mince words.

"I don't know yet." She smiled at Ezalia. "I suppose if I do, I will need your help."

"Well, you won't be doing business right now." Ezalia said pertly, putting away the sober thoughts away. "You're going to have to relax in the Joule Estate." Her smile grew. "You haven't seen Petra yet, have you?"

"That's part of the reason why I came, Ezalia. I heard she takes after her mother."

"Maybe the face," Ezalia considered. "But her personality is definitely more like her father's."

"I'll have to see about that."

Both women grinned, although Ezalia knew it was likely that Harumi would be off sooner than Ezalia expected.

"And how is Ko?" Ezalia inquired.

"He's fine," Harumi said hesitantly. "He likes Orb and he's doing well in school. He likes the beaches in particular, I think." She shook her head. "Maybe he was more attached to the last home than I realized."

"Still, it's good that he's found something that he likes." Ezalia said. She gazed at Harumi. "You miss him, of course."

Harumi sighed. "As a mother, yes. I would drop everything to go with him to Orb, but I'm afraid that's not something I can do. Besides, he has to learn how to stand by himself. But thanks to you," She looked at Ezalia gently, "He's in a proper school now, being with other children; being in a place that doesn't care about his heritage but only his intrinsic worth."

"I think he's safe." Ezalia nodded. She thought of something and frowned a little. "Harumi, does the Orb Princess know that he moved to Orb?

Harumi shook her head, turning away a little.

"But why not? Are you afraid that she'll look out for him and he won't be as independent as you hope?"

"Partially that, yes." Harumi sat down slowly, shaking her head a little. "But mostly because I don't want to remind her of the pain that she never deserved."

* * *

-495 days.

* * *

That morning when Cagalli read the papers, she saw that Denmark had set the next Wednesday as its Independence Day. Sweden's sovereign, Erik Strumsson, was pictured shaking hands with Denmark's first independent leader in a long time. Freja Magdalena had made a rare public appearance, looking remarkably well and at ease by her husband's side.

As her routine permitted her to, Cagalli set aside the papers, putting her thoughts away. She drank the last of her coffee, put aside the remainder of her breakfast and washed up, getting ready for work.

* * *

-499 days

* * *

The Plant Ministry of Foreign Affairs was a building that had been designed to appeal to the layman on the street. The key ambassadors' secretaries, foreign representatives, as did the mediators and the minister worked in a white-washed, welcoming place that faced the best of Aprilius City. But in the Galactic Relations Department, Lacus Clyne had long learnt that the structure was pure, hard steel. Beyond the glitz and sugary speeches Mediators were associated with, there was always a power that each member of the Plant diplomatic community yielded.

Yzak Joule nodded to Lacus as he passed the file over to her. "It's completed, Mediator Clyne." "Do you think any amendments are necessary?" She asked concernedly. "I'm not quite satisfied over the handling of Sarkus Hannieson's repatriation, and if we don't get this bill right, I'm not sure Mr. Hannieson would have faced all that trouble for anything."

The department had worked hard to complete this on time, and she felt relief as Yzak shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, this is sound."

She nodded, but she did not indicate that Yzak could take his leave. In fact, Lacus seemed to be keen to say something even though she was pausing.

"Are there any more clarifications that you have to make?"

"No," Lacus said quietly. "But I'd like to clarify certain things, Head General." Yzak looked at her, sighing a little. "I expected you to say that, Mediator."

"Lacus." She said softly, with that touch of insistence.

"Lacus." He agreed. Growing up with this woman had made it impossible for her to seem like a stranger, even if their views had differed since they'd been children practicing hopscotch or the best way to use the skipping rope.

"I don't understand." Lacus said quietly, shaking her head and looking at Yzak where he remained in the guest seat. "Why is the Intelligence Council allowing him to take on more and more responsibility and—," She found herself afraid to say it. "—power?"

"It's not a promotion, for sure." He said with the nonchalance he had learnt to develop over the years. "Even if I suppose he was always gunning for it."

"I know you want me to tell you about him." Yzak's expression was sharp. "But you probably see deeper than what I am allowed to where the decision is concerned. A year ago, he was a mere Intelligencer. An elite Zaft solider yes, but a basic pawn for the Secret Intelligence Council. And now he's part of the Intelligence Council— the vice-chairman, no less, despite his record and the hiccups of the past. But I didn't vote him in, Lacus, the others did. It was a nearly unanimous vote."

"Do you think that," Her expression was worried. "Eileen Canaver wants to keep an eye on him? As an intelligencer, he would have too much freedom in his isolation. As a member of the council, he can't do very much with the administrative tasks he's been put too."

"Maybe there's that." Yzak agreed. "I suppose it's basically that."

"But I wanted to know how he's been." Lacus shook her head. "I just thought that it was uncharacteristic of Athrun Zala to play into politicians' hands."

He was silent, and Lacus hastened to explain. "He doesn't keep in contact with me or Kira anymore."

Yzak moved a hand over his face. "I thought so. I can understand why he's cut off his contact with the people he once saw as his closest friends."

"Why?"

"Sometimes," Yzak muttered. "The easiest way to get to the top is to focus on the pinnacle and forget everything else."

"The top?" Lacus' brow furrowed. "Are you referring to—," "His ambition these days, yes." She gave a little cry. "I thought it was just the nature of his job!"

"How could that be?" Yzak demanded. "He agreed to it in the first place. There is something pushing him forward, Lacus. Understand that and give him what he needs to continue in the path that he's chosen."

Lacus' voice was small and somehow very sad. "What if the path doesn't lead him back?"

"But maybe that's what he wants." Yzak said firmly.

* * *

-516 days

* * *

That evening, Leon's favorite cartoon was interrupted by breaking news. Harraldsson had died in his sleep as a Galactic criminal even while the room he had occupied in the hospital had been guarded by fifteen men.

* * *

-565 days

* * *

Krakow was a place that she wanted to visit when she was old, Cagalli decided. It was a place that was best visited when she had found her true place in the world.

But until then, Krakow was at best, a place that reminded her of different things at different times; a place that seemed like all the others because she could not immerse herself into it.

The last meeting that she had was in the morning, and the next one would be in the late evening. The officials here had insisted that she visit their high-end tourist places and she'd only managed to get out of it by claiming that she had some other business to settle. In reality, Cagalli just wanted to be alone.

In the meantime, Cagalli chose to visit the artsy little streets and to browse in the swirling palettes of the local craft markets. While the two guards trailed from afar, Cagalli had bought some trinkets for the colleagues.

Also, she picked out a delightful wood horse for Leon who had been early to start walking and speaking. For Kira and Aaron who shared the same sweet tooth, she'd gotten them local treats, and she selected a range of beautiful silk scarves for Lacus.

By the time she got back to the hotel, she knew what she had to accomplish in Krakow. She smiled at the bodyguards before sending them off with presents, locked the door of her room, and then took a long, hot shower, pretending that everything trickling down her face was from the tap.

* * *

-600 days

* * *

"Quickly! While the sun's good! Oh, come on, Shinn, get that set up before the sun goes!"

"Why do I have to be the one who's setting up the tripod?" He grumbled, holding up the camera as Luna grabbed her sister to her, smiling that gamine smile of hers.

Meyrin adjusted her hat, smiling at him. "There's a reason why menial is spelt as m-e-n-ial, Shinn." Almost cheekily, she winked, and Shinn had to laugh at both of them. He bent a little more, adjusting the spine of the tripod so he could balance the camera at the right angle that Lunamaria had insisted on.

"Come on, come on!" Luna was behaving like a child, which was entirely understandable when Shinn considered that on most days, she was heading a squadron and had to behave as a responsible adult would. "I don't even get to come here even though I live in Panama, so let's make the most of this!"

"Yeah!" Meyrin chimed in, "I haven't had a holiday in ages, so don't waste this photo-opportunity, Shinn!"

"Roger, roger," He said wryly. "I'm adjusting the lens now." He snorted to himself. "And don't speak as if you're the only one who's been working like mad!"

"Yeah, yeah," Luna chanted. She giggled to her sister. "His students are horrible little monkeys! Apparently, they don't take orders very well."

"They aren't soldiers, you know," Meyrin chided Shinn while he tried to get the tripod ready. "They're just kids, so you have to lower your expectations! I mean, it's a school you're working at, not the barracks!"

"Seems to me that nobody takes physical fitness classes that seriously anyway," Lunamaria mused. "Even in Zaft, we were quite lax after we graduated." She laughed. "Especially me."

"Lucky you," Meyrin took her turn to be envious. "I hate your metabolic rate."

Shinn tried not to comment. He focused on the task at hand, trying to steady the tripod.

And as he put the final touches to the tripod, he looked through the camera, staring specifically at the background that Meyrin had chosen. Panama was really quite gorgeous, he supposed. It had all these touristy, sunny spots where the seas darted at the bases of the cliffs and roared voraciously; hungry for wind and boats that dared ride its waves.

A gust swept by and the girls shrieked nosily. Shinn averted his eyes, trying not to laugh. Once upon a time, he'd teased his sibling over her awkwardness and some extremely unfortunate accidents regarding skirts and the like. Having dealt with girls in the past, he was more than equipped to know not to comment on what he'd witnessed.

In the meantime, Luna growled. "My hair's a mess now!"

Meyrin held up her fingers in the victory sign. "I'm glad I was wearing a hat anyway."

"Lucky you," Luna said enviously.

"Done!" Shinn said pointedly, forcing them to drop their little side conversation and look back at him. "Get ready—one, two, three—!"

As he pressed the button, he blinked, looking at the sea through the lens. Those seas stretched far and wide, and Shinn wondered where and when those would end.

* * *

-614 days

* * *

It came to a point when she willingly kissed an American diplomat who'd been particularly close to her. He had a thrillingly tender voice whenever he spoke to her and fine hands with beautiful fingers but wrists like steel— hands that were calloused by his gun and fencing practice, as he admitted to someone who inquired during dinner. Frankly though, she didn't have to hear him say that for her to recognize those hands.

Over the course of the meal, she noted that he had a frame that was both inclined to a cat's gait and yet, a man's sureness as he gestured animatedly. He was young, charming and spirited, and his name was not one that she took notice of at all. He had longish hair that framed his face, and she caught herself wondering if his women ran their hands through it.

Throughout the dinner when they were first introduced to each other, she listened to him trying to convince someone else that the current economic policies needed no reforms. While Cagalli didn't agree with the substantive aspects, she thought he was a very agreeable, fine, young gentleman who had a promising career in front of him. While he was only a minor diplomat, a gut feeling told her that he was far more ambitious than he let on. And while he was a little more roguish and flamboyant than she was used to, she thought it was interesting that he seemed guarded when he was not being engaged in conversation.

Later that evening, she made the mistake of walking too near the edge of the area where people were waltzing. Before she could get to the table where she'd intended to speak to an official from the Earth Alliance, someone tapped her on the shoulder and she'd turned around to face the diplomat she had taken only slight notice of during dinner.

He bowed to her, straightened up, and then proceeded to press her close to him without asking or even faltering as most of her dance partners would have. She had neither the intention of dancing nor getting to know anybody at all, but she had found no time to refuse. And as he pulled her into the diamond grids of pairs, his scent was clear and she found herself thinking flesh and the sinews of a body propelling itself forward and cutting into the air and water.

Maybe it was his lack of hesitation or the way he had assumed right from the start that she was no more than a person than he was. Or perhaps, he saw that Cagalli Yula Atha had looked lost that night, and that she'd certainly not the infallible individual that her reputation suggested she was. Maybe it was how he had sensed during dinner that she was attracted to him as one human to another. Or maybe, it was simply that he had little regard for her title that made Cagalli take even more notice of him.

Whatever the case, she found that she could dance willingly. Whether it was with him or whether it was for reasons independent of this man, she found herself wondering if there was possibly a day when she would have to try to recall Athrun Zala and what he had been like to be with. Perhaps, the real underlying reason for tonight's break in her pattern of isolation and monotony had been the way she found that her heart did not ache for another when he smiled at her.

And when her dance partner whispered that he felt warm and wanted to escape the crowded setting, Cagalli took his invitation. He'd dismissed his bodyguards, as had she, and he'd driven her to the edge of Shanghai to see the nightlights. Under the looming lights that struck out any chance of seeing stars, they counted roofs and discussed politics and their true opinions. He seemed easy-going with an enviable energy, and even the car seemed less ostentatious in the night and as a leaning board for both of them. She was impressed with the way he could express himself so fluently and without fear of criticism at all, and she wondered if she had ever been like that in the past.

Out of a polite curiosity, she asked about his family and learnt that he had a younger brother who was studying to be an artist, and that his parents were rather like hippies. When he returned the question, she laughed and said that whatever he had heard about Uzumi Nara Atha was the case. He'd seemed taken aback and she'd laughed more. And of course, the questions turned from pets to hobbies, to the number of garden gnomes in their estates, and inadvertently to whether he was seeing anyone.

"You first." She requested. She did not ask out of anticipation but merely out of an instinct to protect herself. Cagalli was also slightly inquisitive as to whether he would say yes or no, and whether that would be a lie. But more than that, she did not want to offer information about herself that made him know more about her than she did of him.

He laughed merrily, rubbing his head as if slightly puzzled. "She dumped me a year ago. She said I was too tall to kiss her properly."

She laughed, wondering if he was lying about being dumped, being single, being too tall, or being unable to kiss and thus giving the girl a reason to split from him.

In any case, he bent over, whispering her name instead of her title, and she decided his presumptuousness was fine with her. It didn't matter that she hadn't specifically asked him to drop her title. Nor had she told him that she was attracted to him or given any clear indication. More crucial was her failure to tell him whether she was seeing anyone or not. But as his lips touched her cheek gently, then travelled to the lips, she knew that he didn't want to know. He didn't need to know.

And for that precise reason, it was the only kiss that she willingly shared with anyone since the time that she had left the courtroom. He drove her back to the hotel she was putting up at in Shanghai, and he'd told her that he would call even though she hadn't given him a way of contacting her or asked him to.

She thought that he was merely flirting around, and she was sure that her general lack of enthusiasm was off-putting. Someone like him must have been used to seeing forthcoming, attractive women, and while she hadn't been a cold fish, she hadn't been a lovesick puppy either. But he surprised her by calling, and when he asked if he could see her, she knew that some part of her had yearned for him to show that he wanted to be around her.

And eventually, she knew why.

* * *

-694 days

* * *

She found her heart beating at the flowers he sent her a few days later and she knew that it was not with excitement that a girl would receive a potential suitor with but the heartache and remembrance of another. And yet, part of her wanted to remember that pain of having tears mix with the shower; the only time when she dared to cry.

She let herself be taken out by him for coffee and she didn't resist when he kissed her again during their third meeting. She did not like him beyond a certain point, but she was afraid of being alone. He took her out for dinner a few times and she never did more than make him talk about himself and what he thought of Orb. She was highly indulgent with him; smiling and laughing at his jokes and encouraging him to talk while she listened. It was better than making herself talk, Cagalli thought, for she had nothing to say about herself that mattered anymore.

He was a very sweet person; one who made himself available and one who never demanded much or brought up anything she would have clammed up about. He liked to go riding, and he brought her to some valleys where they spent some hours laughing and racing. But throughout it, she knew that she was doing him a wrong.

He bought her so many things that she did not know how to refuse- beautiful scarves, cashmere coats and the whole gamut. She would wear those for him because he seemed to find much joy; a simple, uncalculating appreciation of her effort to thank him in this way. At his prompting, she agreed to meet his parents and his baby brother, and they seemed to like her well enough beyond the fact that she was the Orb Princess.

Despite all his sophistication, he behaved like a child in that he didn't seem to expect anything in return. It made her want to try harder. Beyond that, she loved to listen to him and the way his hands would sometimes flit in the air as he talked passionately about sports or the aquarium he wanted to bring her to. There were little things that she didn't agree with but never found necessary to disagree with. It wasn't that she was on a rebound or a recovery. There was a period if her life that had darkened in the inevitable way that the finest silver would tarnish by virtue of its pure nature, and there simply wasn't a way of getting over that in her situation.

For her, the only way she could function was to simply try and forget that she had ever lived and loved once.

* * *

-721 days

* * *

For some reason, he'd specifically flown to Spain where she had been asked to oversee some decision-making on behalf of Orb and the Earth Alliance to meet her. Even though she'd protested at the way he would be neglecting his job, he'd insisted, and he'd taken her out for dinner.

She slept with him eventually and she enjoyed it sufficiently to thank him for his time in the morning. It was not as awkward as she thought it might potentially be, but a rather efficient, inadvertent stage for both of them. He was three years younger but he seemed sufficiently and probably more experienced than her.

It had been the usual procedure of a man asking his date if she would like to visit the apartment that he'd rented for his stay. She had agreed then, and she'd offered to make coffee for both of them. While she had began to boil the water, he'd come into the kitchen, taken her in his arms from behind, and switched off the kettle. She did not protest, and he'd laid a kiss against her neck. Maybe he mistook her granting him access as proof that she was willing to move into another stage of a relationship, but she did not find clear objection to that. His bedding her was a matter of consensual want, although it had been sparked off by an almost predictable pattern of him bringing her out for dinner.

On a purely physical level, it had been satisfying to have someone's warmth and to have someone fulfill her. On an emotional level, she was not sure what to feel. He had been thoughtful and attentive, gentle and going so far to be meticulous and dimming the lights and helping her feel more than comfortable. But she didn't know whether it was enough, because her being with him hadn't changed any the emptiness.

Yet, she did not hold a grudge against him anymore than she held a grudge against those who had hurt her. It seemed that her failure to find any real feelings for him was neither of her intent nor his mistake, for it seemed to Cagalli that she had already gotten her chance at happiness. As Aaron had once remarked, that chance didn't even come for everyone, and it was good enough that she'd gotten hers.

* * *

-899 days

* * *

She liked him well enough even if she never found a need to understand him in his entirety. She could not bring herself to introduce him to Aaron or anyone else. She could not bring herself to invite him into her house even if he turned up in Orb and took her out. That estate had gates nobody could really climb or enter save for its owner, and even if she despised it at time, Cagalli still felt as if it was the estate was the one thing that truly belonged to her. But he treated her well and he was always so generous that she felt guilty at her inner insincerity.

Perhaps that compelled her to take his invitation to visit him in New York. She visited and she hated it. She hated New York because she could somehow identify with the place even more than her own country and the city that she lived in. She could see New York for its endless hurrying, its glitzy, empty lights, its soulless core but solid foundation, and she understood that for all its pedigrees, for all the myths and success stories surrounding it, it was completely devoid of sincerity.

For a whole week, she carried out her meetings and attended the necessary conferences. The bodyguards followed her around warily, for they were even more vigilant in foreign places. In the evening, she would take her dinner and a bath, reading in bed and waiting until the hotel clerk gave her a call to inform her that she had a visitor that she'd been expecting. That would be the signal for her to dismiss the bodyguards outside her door, then waiting until the doorbell rang and she checked it to confirm who it was. He visited her suite apartment every evening for them to fuck themselves senseless, and she welcomed him with little greeting but a hunger that surprised him. But he did not know that New York frightened her; that New York knew her and reminded her of herself.

He came with flowers or gifts almost every day but she threw those back, unwilling to take more than what she was giving him. Deep inside, she knew why she was keeping him with her, and it pained her to see that he thought that they were making an emotional connection. He told her one night that he wanted her to treat herself like she was worth everything and more, and in that moment, she had to bite her lips to stop herself from crying at the memory of another.

He would beg for her and when they were done, he would hold her and tell her how lucky he was to have met her. It always touched her but it made her colder yet, because the fear of the past made her withdraw. She refused to wear a rather magnificent stone he had given her and forced her to hold onto. It seemed like a cruel joke that the gift had been a dazzling ruby encrusted in silver tendrils— a weight around her neck when she had taken off the tiny weight that should have been on her at all times.

Sometimes, when he'd had a little too much to drink, he would hold her in his arms and beg her to tell him the secrets of her past and why she always seemed to be so far away when they were supposed to be closest to one another then. He would ask why they had to keep their relationship so secret, and she would tell him all the old lies and the old excuses about their positions in their countries. Those grew thin over the months, and he seemed to accept them only at face value. But then, she could never tell him why she would show him a little skin and then keep it all when she was undressed. She never quite understood that being with him was a way of hiding herself in the first place.

He would always fulfill his physical needs but nothing more than that, and it frustrated him. She knew this, but she had no choice and he had no say. Besides, no matter how she abused him with her silence and coldness outside their sex, he always returned to her.

Before she left New York, he brought her for a jazzy little dinner, fished out something with a fork from his drink, got down on his knee and proposed after she somehow missed the ring in her drink. She had accidentally switched drinks with him, almost as if it was a higher authority's intervention and warning that it would have turned out miserably anyway.

The violinist approached the table, playing a tune that had struck her as being familiar and somewhat staid during dinner. But at that point, the tune was maddening and incredibly harrowing, given that the violin was right at their table. Everyone in the restaurant paused, wherever they were in the restaurant, their eyes on her. Some people were already applauding. It was enough to pressure her into agreeing, but it was ironically his hopeful, trusting eyes that told her that he didn't deserve anymore pain than she had already inflicted on him.

So she told him there and then that she needed more time with all the intention of breaking it off, watching his smile fade and his eyes grow dull. But then, he'd been the perfect gentleman, calling for the bill and behaving with impeccable manners. He'd asked to send her home and of course, she did what she had to do and they ended up in her bed once more.

That night, he seemed to lose his confidence and he floundered as she undressed them both in a comfortable, confident, almost efficient way, like a nurse at the soldier's infirmary. He was still hesitant when she finished stripping him and took him to her, and she could tell that he was unsure of what to do with the strange crossroads she'd put them at. But she forgave him, if only because she wanted him to forgive her indecision all that time back when he'd taken her as a dance partner, and how she had broken him in some way by not protesting.

When he settled into the routine, he became more aggressive than she was used to him being, as if he had something to prove now. She woke up in the middle of the night to find him by her side, his arms thrown around her like a needy child. But she unwound those and wondered if she had made a mistake. And then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep, willing herself to forget the world in that moment. Yet in the morning, he asked her why she had mumbled something about a wooden puzzle in her drunken stupor. And it was then that she knew she could not stand to see him ever again.

So she never told him, and he understood enough not to ask her to marry him again. They never spoke to each other after that, although he was always courteous when they met- granting her at least a wan, half-hearted smile that mirrored her own. He wrote her a birthday card some time after that, and in response, she gave him a magnificent watch for his birthday. Of course, she found that she had to first make inquiries through her secretary as to his birthday date.

After that, she refrained from drinking entirely and from even allowing herself to be attracted to anyone. Still, she found herself taking particular notice of a remarkable shade of green the coffee girl's eyes were and even one of the minister who had a wry sense of humour and finely shaped lips. But Athrun Zala never wrote or even sent a card for her birthday or made a call to anyone—not even Kira or Lacus. It was as if he had vanished completely, except that his face would be plastered all over the headline news and on the gigantic screens featuring the newest Zaft developments.

For those reasons, Cagalli did not step out when she could, and she never chose to look at all that reminded her of her pain. But she found herself searching for him subconsciously in crowds; looking for him in the people that surrounded her, yearning for someone to help her forget him but always finding herself attracted to people that reminded her of him in the first place. That was the influence he still had over her, even when he was not physically present at all.

For that, Cagalli never forgave him or herself.

* * *

-992 days

* * *

Those memories were best thought of as a distant, faded period in which they'd chosen to be fools. For that matter, she was prepared to write that period out of her life. She was sure that she had moved past the days of believing that there was still some way to undo something, and she was sure that she'd passed the line dividing the past from the present.

After all, she had watched the flash of recognition in his face as he turned with that automatic, unthinking habit of putting his hand forward for the next dance partner, almost like he was a part of a factory system's conveyor belt. She had watched him enter with someone hanging off his arm, his smile slight and his partner's dazzling.

For a minute, she had wondered if she was not present but was looking at the pages of a society magazine. She'd seen one about a month ago, and there'd been a small write up about the Generals of Zaft meeting for a conference and then a dinner event similar to this one. Amidst a small photograph, the Vice-General of the Intelligence Council's silhouette and face had been clear.

In that picture, his face was grave and eyes piercing as he nodded to those around him. He had looked mostly the same in that picture—hair a little long the way she remembered it, expression sober and mouth pursed slightly in the way that she had loved. But he had not been looking at the camera or at anything in particular, and she knew that he'd been lost in thoughts when the lens had closed in on him. He would have looked even less readable if he'd been aware of the camera.

When she'd first seen the article, Cagalli had stared long and hard at the list of some of the guests, his name amongst those. Then she'd stared at the escort accompanying Athrun Zala, who'd been caught in the picture too. The lady was apparently the daughter of another Zaft higher-up and she had an air of sophistication and classic beauty that Cagalli personally liked but despised in that very moment.

Truthfully, Cagalli's mood should not have been affected by the article that Aaron had attempted to hide from her. Even now, she should not have looked at Athrun Zala and felt that tiny squeeze of pain. To be haunted by him was not something she was unused to. It had lasted seven years when he'd disappeared. Why not these three years ever since he'd left?

His face was everywhere— his voice radiating from interviews and statements he handled every week. Zaft was expanding and the Intelligence Bureaucracy had attracted a great deal of media coverage with or without Athrun's Zala presence as its head. As she had passed by shops with the latest electronic gadgets and the slimmest flat screens with the highest definition, it was uncommon if she did not see some news featuring him.

But that night, as she gazed at him when he entered, it occurred to her that even the pain was fading into numbness. That night, when she danced and for some reason, there was a moment when the partners were switched, that jolt of shock and realization at turning to see someone familiar was nothing more than that.

But that died and he was regarding her without any clear expression. He had bowed to her that evening because they'd somehow ended up as dance partners when the conductor had switched a song.

She could have taken his hand, waited for the familiar sphere of music, and then whispered all she wanted to say to him that she'd failed to for so long.

But it occurred to her that the quiet, unsmiling countenance she'd thought of for so long was vastly different from the politely controlled, courteous expression the person before her had.

And Cagalli decided there and then that if he was too polite to refuse to offer her a dance, then she would do the correct thing for both of them.

So she curtseyed back with all the dignity she could master, her eyes firmly set at the space below his eyes, and then left.

* * *

-1002 days

* * *

The sun was making its way back, burning slow and luxuriously, spilling its excess light in tangerine and corals over the ocean's face. In the distance, gulls quarreled and the rolling of the waves was endless and tireless in its quiet erosion of the coastline. The orphanage was a distance away now; a speck that seemed to grow less and less significant with the number of steps that one took on the beach.

Markio was back in the cottage, talking to Lacus. The children plotted amongst themselves to surprise her and Kira with flowers, and some of them agreed to find a vase to arrange those in.

Because the orphanage was near the sea, the effects of the early autumn were not clear and tiny pink flowers spread like flirtatious kisses over thatches of grass near the coastal inlands. Markio had asked them to stay because they had guests, but the children were feeling restless and wanted to take walks on the coast. While the adults were distracted, the children snuck out. Some of them had also run off to continue with their games near the rocks, some of them had gone to find tidal pools with their tiny creatures, and some had promised to find the rarer sea-lilies that Lacus always clapped her hands at.

They tread on sand; some with bare feet, some with shoes that they wore loosely. Some played with the water and some screamed in joy; children that didn't know better than to be children.

Kira envied them sometimes.

As it was, Kira had come out with them, finding himself more tired and drowsy indoors. Perhaps, it was also his unwillingness to see how weak and old Markio had become. Like the children, Kira had come up with some random reason to excuse himself—he'd said that he would look after the children. After clearing the last of the tea that Lacus had made for the children, he left the cottage, tracing the footsteps of the children, who'd run off in the distance.

To this extent, the children knew Kira was keeping an eye out for them. They continued to play, knowing he was following behind him, and they never looked back to see if they'd dropped anything at all.

The air was a bit more sultry than Kira would have expected, and he watched as the children scampered more quickly than him. Two of them had come only this year, and five had left the orphanage the last month Kira had visited. Some of them had come when they were barely four, but now they were running as if they sensed their years were slipping away.

Some of the boys that Kira had once carried on his back were shouting in laughter—their voices deep and gravelly; rocks exposed to the elements. Some of the girls that had once begged for piggy-rides had fuller lips and more defined features and a few seemed to shy to speak to him anymore. Inola bumped into Kira as she ran to catch up with her friends in the distance, and she apologized with a blush that bloomed on her face when he helped her up and checked her knee for any injury.

Above the beach, the cliffs loomed high and opposing to the wind, and few cars were heard above the waves; if any cars came here at all. He took his time to make his footsteps on the moist sand- darker than the other parts of the beach because of its proximity to the waves. There were others' footprints before his, but the sea renewed the canvas that Kira stepped on.

A few metres ahead, Tommy and Makura were arguing about something, and Makura made fun of Tommy's freckles. He sulked, running off with a pail that seemed full of saltwater and little else. She chased after him, shouting about the spade he'd left behind.

There was a starfish that had washed up, and Kira picked it, bending with all purposes of lifting it up to hurl it back into the sea where it would survive. Some children who were nearer to him saw what he was doing and hustled around him, looking at the creature he'd picked in his hand. The others who hadn't realized that their companion had stopped continued to run into the seemingly endless stretch of coast.

But a Kira gently took it from his palm, the other children who hadn't turned back suddenly cried out. Their excitement was loud enough for Kira and those around him to notice and they all looked up.

"You're back!" Rocco, who was taller than Kira could ever remember, looked up with a grin that split from ear to ear. And without hesitation, he ran up towards the figure in the distance.

"He's back! He's back!" The others rushed forward too. They forgot about Kira and the starfish as they scuttled away. And Kira watched as the children crowded around; oblivious to the starfish that Kira was still holding in his hand.

Their eyes met, and from where he was, Kira offered a small smile. Like the starfish he slipped back into the ocean, the smile was returned.

By the time the children grew less excited about a newcomer's presence and ran off further to the coves to pick shells, the later part of evening had set in. The sun was surely behind its curtain now, and what was left of the daylight that reached them both came from the sea's mirror. They had to turn back to the cottage, and once again, the children ran back first; too energetic and far too excited with their finds to walk at a leisurely pace.

The golden dabs and strange, moving ripples of light in the peach skies made Kira think of the inside of a shell that he'd once picked and given to Lacus. She'd put it to her ear delightedly, for one was supposedly able to hear the ocean, and now, he heard the sea's song around him. The waves continued to lurk back and forth, their whispers filling the growing darkness with meaning and secrecy.

Again, Kira walked at a far slower pace behind the children. The two pairs of footprints seemed shallow on sand that the sea continually washed over, and it seemed that nobody had come here at all.

One child lagged behind the others, and for this reason, he found a hermit crab. Eager to share his find, he began shouting in the hope that others others would run back to him. But the others were too far ahead for him and did not turn back, no matter how loudly he tried to raise his voice above the waves. While he was distracted, the hermit crab scuttled away in the direction that the child had come from, and so he found nothing when he turned back to the spot. He looked around and saw something moving on the sand about some distance away.

"Hey!" Yuta called, waving and jumping. "Help me catch it! It's running towards you!"

The two adults seemed to be deep in conversation, and Yuta frowned. They hadn't heard him.

He turned to look where the other children were far in the distance, and he made a sound of annoyance. He began to scamper in the direction where the crab had scuttled, a bit upset that neither the adults nor the children were paying him attention.

As he came closer, Yuta saw that the two were talking. He almost ran towards them, annoyed that they hadn't helped him catch the crab. But then, Yuta saw that the crab was hiding behind some weeds. Happily, he scooped it up in his pail, getting ready to run back to the other children. But curiosity tugged at him, and he looked back and watched the adults in the distance.

He watched as Kira opened his mouth to say something. Surely, Yuta realized, there was hesitation in Kira's face. And as Kira spoke, the waves crept upon the sands, washing the grains and then receding, lurking back in its constant patterns. Above, the last few birds circled and a stray one swept over their heads. Harsh gull cries echoed in the air and the air seemed less sultry and a bit chillier for a minute.

For dinner, there was an extra plate and cutlery that Lacus set out. But the food on that plate was not touched much, and there was a leftover slice of pie that some of the children helped to bake. While the adults talked, or so it seemed, the children played jacks and whipped tops to make them spin. They were eventually forced to take their baths and to go to bed, but some of them stayed up to talk and play shadow games with their hands, as the children were prone to doing in the course of falling asleep.

Naturally, the conversation for two children shifted to the adults.

Jun asked Yuta, "What kind of car is that?"

"Don't know," Yuta said blearily. He rubbed his eyes with his small, chubby hands. "It's really big though."

"It's more than big," Jun said in admiration. He was nine years old and two years Yuta's senior, and his side of the room was plastered with pictures of ships and other vehicles that he liked to cut out from magazines. "It's a fantastic car! I knew it was him when I heard the car above us at the cliff."

"Don't lie," Yuta pointed out. "You can't hear anything from the cliffs when we're at the beach."

"I'm not lying!" Jun protested. "It was a loud engine. Loud, I tell you!"

"Not from that car," Yuta countered. "Not as loud as you say. It's quiet— Markio says he comes in the evening at times; or the night. But we don't hear the car, do we?"

Jun nodded, and then realized that he'd conceded his case. He raised his eyes to Yuuta's, hoping for a change of topic. "What were they talking about at the beach?"

"I'm not sure." Yuta admitted. He yawned, feeling a little sleepier than usual because of how hard he had played today. In a jug next to his bedside table, the hermit crab tapped against the glass and Yuta sat up to peer at it. He began muttering things to himself, bleary with his sleepiness. "Kira's very quiet when he talks and I heard only a bit— I was not very near and the waves-," He interrupted himself with a gigantic yawn, "But I think he asked about Torii."

"Torii?" Jun said in astonishment. "But Torii hasn't moved in ages!"

"That's what Kira asked him about." Yuta told his roommate, cupping a yawn. "He said something about it finally stopping entirely."

"And then?"

"Kira asked whether he would come to repair it." Yuta stuck a hand into the jug, trying to provoke the tiny crab.

Jun pouted. "Lucky! I wish he could come more often like Kira and Lacus. Maybe he'd let me drive his car when I get older."

"I don't know about that. He doesn't come here much anymore." Yuta said absentmindedly, still lying with his hand beneath his chin and allowing the moonlight to look at the tiny treasure he'd taken from the beach. "I wouldn't know if he'd even go to repair Torii for Kira."

Jun's eyes widened. Clearly, Yuta's sleepiness was not that infectious where it concerned the hyperactive Jun. "Why not? Didn't Kira ask him to? What did he say, Yuta, what did he say?"

The hermit crab's tiny limbs propelled it on a rock, and it settled into its shell for the night. Yuta too, turned to lie on his back with a tiny sigh, looking sideways at Jun sleepily.

"Well, that's precisely it. He didn't say anything."

* * *

-1109 days


	33. Chapter 32

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Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

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A/N:

Hello faithful readers and reviewers! In between watching the world cup and becoming part of my couch, I have been waiting for reviews to pile up for the previous chapter and wondering how best to end this story, which would thus explain the delay. As you know, this fic has gone on for a long time and I'm glad to say that this is the second-last chapter. It's shorter than the others but I assure you that the last chapter is absolutely necessary. Thanks to all who have supported this fic so much and made it so enjoyable for me where the writing was concerned!

**LATEST UPDATE: Sorry about this- in my confusion with all the multiple drafts I had, I uploaded the wrong version of this chapter and I've changed it. So please read it again if you've already read this chapter, and I assure you, it is an important re-read! No wonder the wordcount was so short- it surprised even myself!  
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PP

* * *

Chapter 32

* * *

The Orb parliamentary reports in the last two years had piled up. The news and coverage on a decision Orb was in the process of making had been going on for quite some time. A great deal of all this talk and parliamentary work had been attributed to the proposal that Plant had put forward— a proposal that the Earth Alliance had agreed to just months before. Orb had certainly been under pressure to comply with the other two superpowers, but there had been at least fifteen parliamentary sessions to delay that decision.

As far as Cagalli was concerned, having two superpowers and their governments breathe down her own government's neck was not a good reason for agreeing to participate in the trilateral zone. She shuffled the papers, looking through her points once more, and then rose, signaling the start of the session.

She stood at the head of the table, her voice authoritative and her every gesture silencing those who did not accept her decision. The head speaker today, she knew exactly what her decision would be, and she sensed that all those present in the room guessed what it would be as well. "As it stands, I say Orb is better off without this zone."

"With due respect, Your Grace," The minister for home affairs spoke, "I think the long-term benefits will turn in Orb's favour. Orb has always been the peace-keeper at rather crippling costs. Should a war break out, we would want other superpowers to help to mitigate conflicts as well. "

"You say long-term." Cagalli said stiffly. "Then what about Orb's current short-term goals? If we agree to the zone, we agree to ratify our laws according to the trilateral sale of military technology and information act. As I have said, the zone is not a problem. It is the impact of the act that comes with it that affects Orb—and adversely. Clause forty-six part three would force Orb and its colonies to have significantly less power over specific countries it trades weapon technology with."

"All for the sake of stability and equal distribution of technology, Your Grace!" The minister of defence declared. "That is the impetus behind this zone— if every superpower has the same power as another, a war is unlikely to occur ever again."

She bit back her real thoughts. Instead, Cagalli said firmly, "I'm afraid that is a mere ideal. There will always be conflict in this world, minister. The question is— when there is a war, do we need the power to protect Orb? The answer is an obvious yes. And for that obvious reason, the zone is not something we can agree to."

There were murmurs of assent and Cagalli already knew that she had won. The session would only wrap up in an hour's time, but it was quite clear the rest of the session would focus on how to present Orb's refusal to Plant and Earth Alliance.

At Cagalli's side, Aaron sat, taking down notes and listening to the other ministers bring up salient points. In his mind, he wondered if the paleness in her face was natural and whether the way she was frowning slightly had anything to do with the session. He thought of what he had asked her the other day.

Up to that point, Cagalli had persuaded most of her leaders already. "Orb needs to be independent. Trading military technology has plenty of problems on its own. But more than that, it goes against the very core of Orb's success. On another level, letting Earth Alliance and Zaft troops have free access to some of our Orb troops' quarters will create problems for the security within Orb. With all due respect to these soldiers, I foresee problems with keeping a control on what information leaves Orb."

But Aaron hadn't been quite convinced. Even now, he wasn't. They'd spent a good hour sparring over her decision to refuse participation, and it puzzled him that she seemed so unswayed by the clear benefits the trilateral agreement held.

In Aaron and plenty of the Emirs and ministers' view, the trilateral zone was not a complete winning bargain for Orb, but he and they were still supportive of it. It was true that Orb would not benefit as much from the trilateral trade and sale of military technology unlike the Earth Alliance and Plant, since Orb's technology had long surpassed the other two superpowers' own. Yet, there were plenty of solid arguments to back up Aaron's instincts that it was a proposal Orb needed to be part of. He had been surprised to find that Cagalli was not just neutral about Orb's role but quite adamant about Orb's lack of participation.

"Is your decision based solely on objective facts?" He'd asked her in her office the other day.

He hadn't meant it to be a question that implied anything less than impartiality. To be frank, Aaron hadn't realized the implications of what his question held. But the question had made her pause, and when he looked at her, he'd seen shock in her face.

Before he could stammer his apology, she had answered with her own question. "What else can I base my decision on?"

And then Cagalli had ordered him out of her office, claiming she had some files to read.

Now, Aaron looked at her again, wondering where she found her strength. He wasn't quite sure if she had indeed based her decision on anything more than what she thought was best for Orb. There were plenty of tiny, poison-filled rumours in the office that she wanted to keep Orb's military technology to herself. There were even some rumours that she was just trying to ensure that Orb and therefore she, could lord it over the Earth Alliance's leader and Plant's chairman.

But for Aaron and what he understood of Cagalli's history, it was slightly different. As he swept his eyes over the files before him, referring to the sections that Cagalli referred to, he couldn't help thinking of a clause within the potential military technology sales act along with the shared military zone. Both, if Orb agreed to the offer, would have allowed Plant and the Earth Alliance to place their military professionals for a long-term stay within Orb and its colonies.

He regretted asking Cagalli however. He knew, deep inside, that even if she had considered that clause, it would never have swayed the way she made decisions for Orb.

But Aaron did not know that when Cagalli stood there addressing her ministers, she was asking herself the same question that he had asked her.

* * *

-1117 days

* * *

"Come in."

For all intents and purposes, Yzak did not want to beat around the bush when the Vice-Head of the Intelligence Council arrived at his office, two floors above Athrun Zala's own.

He watched as his colleague entered after knocking.

In his uniform, Athrun Zala looked somehow taller and less like an individual. And while there were not many who wore a white uniform within Zaft, this entire part of the Intelligence headquarters was crawling with men and women who populated Zaft as the uppers.

Yzak returned the salute that Athrun offered. "Set it down please." He was quite aware that Athrun's questions were present even if they were not voiced. After all, Athrun Zala had his own clerk to send things to another's office if there was a need. In other words, Athrun Zala did not have to make a personal appearance unless specified. And the Head of Zaft had.

"What's happening now?" Yzak asked. If he had hoped that Athrun would answer what he had meant to ask, he was disappointed.

"The trilateral zone proposal has been approved by the Intelligence Head. The deal with Earth Alliance needs some amendment though— they are asking for eight billion instead of the original six point five." Athrun's voice was the sort that rattled Yzak simply because it was a far-too-steady sort of voice. It was the kind of voice that made men like Yzak wonder if there was anything to hide.

"I suppose you want to know why I asked you to report personally." Yzak said brusquely and with a touch of awkwardness that came when he was grasping for words to start. He had meant to be as forward as he could, but now he was unable to be, and that made him more aggressive than he had intended.

Yet, Athrun Zala looked back at him, waiting without any clear sign that he had registered the meaning behind what Yzak had said.

In many ways, the two men and former childhood playmates were equals. Even if Athrun Zala was still an Intelligencer for the Numbers and Yzak Joule was a Number and therefore his superior, Athrun had become the Vice-Head of the Intelligence Council. Yzak, on the other hand, was the Head General of Zaft. Both men did not need deference with each other. Nor did Yzak Joule need to show patience to Athrun Zala.

But in some ways, Yzak felt responsible for the way his colleague moved into the room. There was that perpetual paleness about Athrun Zala, that strange insubstantial quality even when the man's presence was a quiet, stubborn one.

Because he was uncomfortable, Yzak waved a hand irreverently at the prepared files, clearing those to a corner of his rather crowded desk. There were no photographs on the table or even in the rather spacious but well-occupied office. Yzak was a far too cautious sort of man to display photographs of his family when he was in a position that attracted attention and the occasional death threat.

"Is anything the matter?" Athrun asked quietly.

Yzak looked at him sharply. "Don't ask that like I'm the one who needs sense knocked into him."

Athrun stole a glance to the files. "Are the amendments in too late?"

"You know those are on time." What he had heard recently was far too troubling and far too relevant to Athrun Zala to pay the files any attention. In his mind, Yzak was troubled by more than work.

"What is it then?"

Yzak decided to be direct about it. Trying more tact with someone like Athrun Zala would be a cramping of Yzak's style— and being too kind and patient with Athrun.

"You know as well as I do that you're playing too many stakes." He said bluntly. "Too much politicking in your position is a bloody stupid thing to do. You're playing with danger."

"Am I?" Athrun said this with a small upturn of his lip.

"You are." Yzak rapped his knuckles against all the files that Athrun had brought in. Perhaps lancing the boil was better than tiptoeing past it. All the same, Yzak was unnerved by the small smile Athrun carried. "You have one finger in politics, one finger in those businesses, and you have all the other fingers in the promotion you're gunning for. As it is, there are plenty of rumours within camp and outside it that you are either embezzling funds or the other way around."

"Let them prove those then." Athrun said calmly.

"That's not the issue. It's inevitable to make enemies, Vice-Head, but you're making far too many by climbing too fast and too far. Something has to give. You're in the way of quite a few people who want that promotion and have been working for it for a long time."

Athrun did not seem to register anything that Yzak was saying. Nonetheless, he complied. "Understood, Head General."

Yzak shook his head. "I don't think so, Zala. Let me make it clearer. You're not going to get that promotion and become the Chaiman of the Intelligence council when the current head leaves in a few months. You won't get it even if you manage to force every single person out of the Isle by the end of tomorrow, which I suspect is what you're trying to do these days."

The uneasiness between them lingered. While the sudden appearances of Coordinators who'd been accused of crimes long before the First War had been pretty much hushed up, Yzak knew which Eye had been chiefly responsible for speeding up the Isle's closure. It didn't matter to Athrun Zala that some who lived on the Isle were not directly involved in their ancestors' misdemeanors— it only mattered that he took the credit for the evacuation of as many Isle-dwellers as possible.

"You don't know that." Athrun said suddenly. There was still that soft, insincere smile on his face. "You're only one of the Numbers. You may be the Head of Zaft but you're only one of the Intelligence Council. By the end of this year, the Isle will be no more than a shell and I would have moved on to other duties. Duties I have the ability to perform well."

"No, you won't have that role, even if you try to weasel your way into getting the other members to vote you as chairman." Yzak bit in. "You knew exactly why you were reinstated as an Eye for the Numbers, don't you? For that matter, you know why the Intelligence Council accepted you and made you its Vice-Head. Granted, you have the abilities to do your job well. But you weren't chosen for your abilities, remember that."

Athrun remained motionless. In Yzak's plain and aggressively functional office, Athrun seemed to blend and camouflage into the surroundings, and Yzak wondered if Athrun was hearing him at all.

Yzak's voice became more forceful and he shifted a file aimlessly to another corner of his desk. "The current head of intelligence took you in as vice-chairman because he would have better supervision of you. You're still in Zaft and the intelligence council because the Numbers realized you knew too many things. Even if the Isle is completely obliterated by tomorrow, you won't be transferred to some other job."

When Athrun did not speak, Yzak shook his head, grabbing more files and then rearranging them without any real sense of purpose until he grew fed up and slammed them all down. "Must I always be the one to remind you that you're not in this game to win? You're in this game to stay where you are, behave for a few years, and then get out of there. It's survival you're supposed to be looking for, not more power!"

"I won't be able to leave the Isle without ending up in some other situation." Athrun said abruptly. His face was suddenly violent. "Even when I get the Fifth Eye out of there, there will be another thing thrown my way that I will end up staying for."

"Well, that's just it!" Yzak said irritably. "Stop caring so much about others, Zala, and get on with your own fucking life! So the Intelligence council has offered you a post to teach piloting when the Fifth Eye leaves— which suggests that if you don't take it, Epstein Cleamont will. So what? If you don't want to teach piloting, then don't! Why should the Fifth Eye's taking over that post if you don't matter to you?"

"Because Erlich Hoffman was entrusted to me." Athrun said obstinately. "I want him and the twins out of the Isle by the end of this year. The Numbers promised me that when I agreed to come back as an Intelligencer."

"Look," Yzak told him, "Don't be an idiot. You were at the Numbers' mercy, not the other way around. Why do you think they promised you something? It's because they were afraid you'd do your work shoddily! They wanted you to have an incentive so that the work quality wouldn't drop! You haven't been able to meet your former aides ever since you resumed work as the Twelfth Eye, correct? Doesn't that say anything about the promise you've been working for, Zala?"

"I will have my payment." Athrun said coldly. "It will come."

Yzak flared up. "Does the fact that the Isle will eventually be shut down say anything to you? Or what if I tell you that Erlich Hoffman has been offered a place in the defense research and development department? Did you know that the younger twin is scheduled to be trained as a pilot? Or that the elder twin has shown great potential in her training as an aide for Sheba Velasco?"

Athrun kept mum.

"I tell you this, Zala," Yzak hissed, "You have no right to decide what's best for them. They decide, and you decide what's best for yourself. You think you know what's best for Epstein, but you can't do more than advise him anymore, Zala. He's not your child. He's not anybody's pet. He makes his own choices— he's seen enough to know what's a bad deal, and now he's doing what he wants."

"He doesn't know!" Athrun's voice raised suddenly. There was pain in his face. "He thinks he owes me something— he thinks he has to be part of Zaft to belong somewhere. I can't just forget someone who was entrusted to me, Yzak."

Yzak held up a hand, cutting in. "How do you know all that, Zala? You haven't met and spoken to Epstein Cleamont ever since his acquittal and return to the Isle as the Fifth Eye. Maybe he does belong to Zaft, and maybe that's how he likes it. All I'm saying is that there's no trap for you this time, Zala. There's a simple, straightforward deal that you bloody well keep to instead of trying to rise in the ranks. Do that and you'll not get into so much trouble. If you have so much time to care, you better start watching out for yourself. You're getting too conspicuous within the Intelligence Council and those who have power in Plant."

Athrun stood there, pale and angry. He might have seemed almost like a child except for the power and cruelty that rippled through his form. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

Yzak studied him, pressing his fingers to his nose-bridge to prevent a migraine. "Can I give you some professional advice, Zala? Just do your job and keep a low profile."

"No." Athrun said again, that ugliness rearing in him. "If I want my way, I make it."

"And that's why you're trying to amass power?" Yzak questioned with a slam of his fist on the table. "That's why you allowed that particular ambassador's niece near you? Or why you tolerated the company of the men and women that you could never stand the guts of? And what about the daughter of the Head of the Intelligence Council? Did she plead on your behalf for her father to tolerate your ambitions even as you try to gun for his post that he's retiring from soon? Is that why you still keep her around even when you're always abandoning her and going off by yourself at every public appearance you have to make?"

"She isn't anything to me." Athrun said coolly.

"No." Yzak agreed, folding his arms. "How could she be anything to you? She was willing to do anything to keep you with her. That silly girl was nothing like the Orb Princess, who knew where her priorities and loyalties lay and when your presence in her life had to end."

Athrun stared at him, hatred burning.

Yzak stood up, glaring at Athrun too. "I don't deny that if you want your way, you have to make it. I'm not a person who cares how you want to make your way—

I'm not a priest. If you have to kill for what you want, I say do it. But what do you want, Zala? More power? How much more do you need? And what do you need it for? For forgetting? For getting even with those who wanted to suppress you in that position you currently hold?"

When Athrun did not answer, Yzak sank back into his seat, tired out. Reasoning with someone like Athrun Zala made one very worn out. Perhaps, Yzak thought, appealing would help.

"The Orb Princess's ill, you know." Yzak watched Athrun carefully. "I was in Neo-Kyoto to meet Kitani Harumi yesterday and I heard the Orb Princess will be there at the Protocol conference." There was no change on Athrun Zala's face. "She's not even staying at home to rest but going to Neo-Kyoto— I heard from Mediator Clyne that the other day in Orb, the Orb Princess' fever flared so badly she was delirious."

When the man did not speak, Yzak lost his temper. "Are you going to say it's not your business?"

Athrun set his jaw. "I can't make it mine. Nor is my business yours."

Yzak's tone was very curt. "Bullshit. I'll tell you why I even care, alright, Zala? I care about all this because I once made past decisions on your pathetic appeals and not on the cold hard facts of my job. I decided to be partial once—for your and her sake. And what was all that waffle about wanting to protect her? You think you're keeping her at bay when you hang someone you don't even talk to off your arm—some woman you won't even touch once the public appearance is done with."

"I didn't make any promises after I agreed to come back to the Plants." Athrun was equally brusque, and his posture became more rigid. "I don't make any that I can't keep." He looked straight at Yzak, and his conviction was frightening. "In any case, seeing her again wouldn't help her."

"No, it wouldn't help you." His one-time superior and now colleague turned away. "You'd rather throw her away than to reclaim her because you feel that you're insufficient for her." Yzak shook his head. "When you read some article and found out that American was seeing her, you refused to shake hands with him." He sneered. "And that poor man was wondering what part of his work you didn't like— or what he did to offend you. And yet you act like you don't want her!"

"I didn't approve of him." Athrun said, his voice thin with anger. "I never did."

"Why not?" Yzak taunted. "You know as well as I do that his work within Detroit is excellent. Didn't you admire him before you found out what you did? You said so yourself—you said he was a good worker and a gentleman. Haven't you read those reports? He proposed, you know. He got down on his knee." He laughed unpleasantly. "Or are you unwilling to take her back when you know she's already grown tired of your ambivalence?"

Yzak pointed at the files Athrun had brought in. "Maybe that's why she's influenced her government to reject the proposal and the idea of the trilateral zone." Yzak knew he was hitting under the belt but he decided to go ahead anyway. As he had said, he was no priest. "Maybe you're right, Zala. I'm starting to find no reason as to why the Orb Princess would want to see you again."

And Athrun's voice shook when he answered. "Say what you like. I won't see her until I am ready. And I will be— soon." He cast a look to the files and within those, a report that had come from Orb a few days ago. It puzzled Yzak, and Yzak wondered if that slight gesture had been intended or whether it had held some significance.

Athrun did not look back at Yzak as he turned to leave, but Yzak already knew where his friend was going. Athrun Zala did not need Yzak's information to know where to go, and Yzak knew that for all these years, Athrun had been looking out for her. It didn't matter that the paintings had been burnt. It didn't matter that the old mansion on the Fifth Isle was not one that the Twelfth Eye could return to.

In his own selfish, destructive way, Athrun Zala had kept the Orb Princess with him while hiding himself away. And in his own helplessness, Yzak had ended up sending Athrun to her again even when his instincts and better sense told him not to.

* * *

-1201 days

* * *

There were stray leaves on the wooden tiles and the wind whistled through the open, rounded bay window of the room. It was getting a bit dark in the evening and it occurred to Cagalli that the simple folds of her cloth robe around her form would not sustain enough warmth when the sun set. But for now, she could feel fine beads of sweat against her skin and her first attempt to raise herself to sit up was too half-hearted to earn success.

As she lay on the ground, resting, Cagalli opened her eyes slowly, then shut them again. The sun was always so brilliant when it died.

"Get up." She muttered. "Get up."

It was quite mad. She was too exhausted to even yawn, let alone fully enjoy the luxury of the temporary lodging in the relative seclusion of Neo-Kyoto. The place was very beautiful, if slightly artificial for all its carefully-preserved architecture and landscaping. The wars had left it quite barren but the years after had turned it into a flourishing tourist-trap. The traditional-style villa she had been booked at for two days and three nights in Neo-Kyoto seemed almost too perfect and well-clipped. Overall, however, Cagalli was glad to have some respite and rest from the packed schedule she'd been facing for the past few days.

The past two days had been spent with the representatives from all over the world and some from Plant. The protocol wasn't something Cagalli was particularly keen about, especially since one of Orb's sunrise industries was in tourism and the idea of sustainability seemed rather suspect to her. It did not help that other countries whose tourism industries were rivals with Orb's were advocating this to Orb. As a matter of personal opinion, Cagalli had enjoyed the talks and the conference, but the idea of suddenly cutting back on tourism developments within Orb was something Cagalli would only consider later when she returned and the next parliamentary session was held.

In the meantime, all she wanted to do was to recover from her ongoing flu and fever.

Lacus had been concerned. "Cagalli, I think you better leave early and get some rest. You shouldn't even be here in Neo-Kyoto."

"Lacus," She'd told her friend and sister-in-law an hour ago when they'd met at the conference, "I don't want you to be all upset, but I'm going to stay for the rest of the conference. It's fascinating!"

"Isn't it?" Lacus said eagerly. But then a tiny wrinkle moved its way between her brow. "But still—,"

As usual, Lacus had looked beautiful, particularly when she'd walked with Cagalli in the perfectly-manicured gardens framing the conference hall after the discussions. Greenery and flowers suited never suited anyone more than Lacus, for she was someone who came across as elegant and well-bred in all situations. Sometimes, Cagalli envied Lacus for how unruffled she always seemed, but today, Cagalli wondered if a little fatigue plagued those blue eyes these days and whether the smiling way Lacus had seemed a bit wistful at times.

"I'm not upset," Lacus had told her in return. "I'm just annoyed."

"Annoyed?" Cagalli had laughed, turning to Lacus and clasping her friend and sister-in-law's hand fondly. "Since when do you get annoyed?"

"Since you started taking walks around that massive house of yours without a coat, that's what!" Lacus' voice had taken on a note of agitation. She shook her fair head. "See, your cheeks are flushed!" She swiftly raised a hand to Cagalli's forehead, flinching. "It's quite warm, Cagalli. You better get back and rest."

"It's a small cold," Cagalli had said hastily. "The fever's dropped a lot since yesterday. No matter anyway— the conference ends in an hour after this break." She nodded again, changing the subject. "How's Kira and Leon?"

But now her migraine was threatening to become worse and she clucked her tongue in irritation, cursing her luck. There was a dull buzzing in the background, and the evening seemed warmer than she liked. She considered getting up for some ice and lemonade, but then she felt drained lying here, even when she'd opened the sliding doors to see the sunset and let in some air.

The villa comprised of just three rooms but it was luxurious even in its simple design and the sprawling view of the mountains and city. She gazed up from where she lay haphazardly on her unmade bed, marveling at how the world seemed to languish even in its beauty. As it was, the large, circular window seemed to mirror the sun, although the sun was beginning its crawling descent. The scent of strange, soft flowers was in the air, and Cagalli comprehended little of what she was seeing.

Her mind felt bothered even when her body was almost sluggish in the rest she had accumulated, and she wondered if she ought to call the bodyguards the officials had assigned to take her out for dinner in the city. Contacting them was a matter of pressing a button on a wristlet she wore even now. They would arrive in minutes as they'd assured her— perhaps a proper dinner would get her out of her lethargy. The bodyguards-cum-chaperones seemed rather nice even if few of them could converse fluently with her. But she thought of the busy day they'd all had and decided that if they were resting in the adjoining villa, it was best she did not disturb them. Besides, the flu medicine was making her drowsy and it felt rather nice to lie here not doing anything.

For a minute, she wondered why the Neo-Kyoto officials and planning team had decided to take such good care of the visiting delegates. Their care seemed particularly forceful where Cagalli was concerned as they'd pressed the keys into her hand— she had wanted to be closer to the central city but the officials had insisted she stay in a more secluded but apparently more relaxing area.

"You must go there!" One official had almost begged. "It's a beautiful place! We've arranged it specially!"

And indeed, it was. Their insistence was probably to show off their high standards of tourism, she concluded. And to be frank, Neo-Kyoto did have quite alot to show off. The humidity seemed sugary in this seclusion, and the air moved sinuous and liquid with the scent of grass and petals.

The birds were calling and crying in the distance, and she smiled absently to herself, rolling onto her side—thinking vaguely about Kira and his family. Already, the light was growing saffron and she put a hand to her eyes, shading them. Night would come soon and perhaps a bath would soothe her nerves a little— just in time for tomorrow's shuttle back to Orb. She closed her eyes and promptly drifted back into the sleep she had only just moved out of.

The evening was still burning in the distance and she might have seen red or jet with her eyes closed. Her skin seemed flushed and she felt herself melting. At some point, she wondered if she was conscious, and whether her fever was getting worse. She heard footsteps in her haze and only managed to crack open her eyes, but even as she drew her breath in and tried to move away, she found no strength but fingers on her wrist, undoing the device to alert the bodyguards assigned to her.

She tried to move but she was pinned to the ground and far too weak to really struggle and assert anything. His scent was filling her and she thought she remembered what his presence had been like.

"How did you get in?" Her voice was cracking; dry from the lack of disuse. There was clear dismay even in her state. She struggled to retract her wrist, but his hands were far too strong even if his fingers felt wonderfully cool and firm on her flushed skin. "No—I don't want-,"

"Shh." He was hushing her, and a small clink in the corner made her register that he had undone the device completely and lobbed it to the side of the room. She smiled faintly; triumphantly, trying to keep her eyes open in her half-faint. The device would register another signal if it was taken off—surely the bodyguards would arrive and chase him away now.

"They won't be coming." He added. His voice was soft and very faraway, but she heard his tone if not intent.

Trying to sit up, Cagalli began to struggle in earnest now. But then she could only get up partially and his body was pressing hers down, finding hers and making her sense his presence even through the thick, muddy wool of her consciousness.

He was moving above her, busying with something, and she tried with a Herculean effort to pry her eyes open. The lids were open as only cracks and it seemed that the slit windows provided her little reassurance that he was leaving.

She dreamt of colours she was sure she had never seen and she thought there was the creak of the floorboards as he lay by her side. There seemed to be some coolness on her forehead and she arched in relief, quite delirious. But it did not end. It was taken away at some point and her hair was being shifted away from her neck and a hushed, slightly hoarse voice near her cheeks and ear.

She dreamt she was hugging a child to sleep, and she pressed against the form, the child nuzzling her. Someone was kissing her lips and her breasts and she panted, muttering and stirring. The ache in her seemed almost gone— she hadn't realized the aching had stemmed from the area between her lungs rather than her head.

Almost eagerly, she raced in her darkness to remember and even before she could force her eyes open, she knew Athrun had come.

When she woke, it was to the sound of water and the teasing touches of air on her cheeks. She almost smiled, but then she opened her eyes and saw him a little distance away, sitting cross-legged in a suit and squeezing a damp cloth for it to dry. The suit's jacket was on the ground besides her and the water she had heard was collecting in a small basin under the cloth.

Because the doors were made from the traditional paper and wood, their shadows were clear with the white background and the sun's retreating light. The room was already bathed in coral and crimson, and even in her fever, she recognized his voice and knew his face and hands.

She could smell something sumptuous in the air, but nausea nearly took hold of her. It occurred to her that she was still lying down, and she laughed once, although it came out as a cough. Awkwardly, she tried to sit up, adjusting her robe and pulling the sheets around her almost defensively.

He must have heard her although he did not turn behind. "I used the kitchen. I hope you don't mind."

Her voice felt slower than the way her lips moved with difficulty, her breathing uneven. "Why are you here?"

When he turned, she saw fear move in his eyes. It surprised her, for she had expected him to have had no emotion whatsoever. But the fear flickered and was hidden so quickly that she thought she might have imagined it.

Athrun got up, coming to her side once more. He knelt down, almost like he was at a deathbed, and she flinched when he placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature. She was disappointed by her own response to him—disappointed that she had felt anything at his presence.

He did not say anything while he let his hand linger to her cheek, cupping it. His silence was almost patience, and she was aware that a bead of sweat inched its path down her neck and the valley of her collarbone. He was next to her; watching her, and it occurred to her that she had always been a bit dwarfed by him in the most inopportune of times. She wondered if the sheets stank of sweat and fear, and she wondered if he pitied her.

"What are you here for?" Cagalli muttered again. Her voice was returning, and so was her awareness and the clarity of her vision. But that was what she was afraid of. Perhaps, that had been what he had been afraid of as well.

He did not answer, but bent down, moving above her, kissing her lips lightly. She did not know whether she had expected it or whether she had wanted him to come closer in the way that he had, but she knew that her pulse had increased when he withdrew. She wondered if he was playing a cruel trick on her when he moved to one side and came to rest by her, lifting the thin sheet to slide to her right.

Her surprise as to his sudden arrival had been somehow muted by her the last of her delirium, and it had almost given way to awkwardness and mostly unhappiness. The more composed or conscious part of her had long realized that his presence in this villa had been planned. Athrun Zala hadn't needed to get through the adjoining villa with the assigned bodyguards to get here. He'd probably waltzed right through— with Kitani Harumi's blessing or something akin to that. He must have found her here— half-slumped as if drunk; flushed and resting deeply.

She raised her eyes to him, her fever still throbbing but her consciousness quite clear even to herself.

"You'll catch the flu." Her voice was breaking.

"I get immunity jabs twice a year." He said vaguely, shifting a little to face her.

"Do you?" She did not turn to him the way she had once done so many times in the past. She remained there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the ceiling or fear that tears would build in them.

"Military procedure."

"Ah."

She wondered why they were pretending that they were the perfect example of normality. He reached for her face, gently turning it towards him to kiss her again as if they had remained lovers all this time. She just closed her eyes, not responding, and she could feel his disappointment when he let go.

"You still haven't told me why you're here."

"I don't think I have the right to answer that." Athrun said quietly.

She gritted her teeth. Experience had taught her that silence was her best weapon against him. She disliked how he must have opened the door to this room, seen it bathed in the glow of the sunset with the open veranda and moved in quite easily, as if it was his lodging and not hers. Against him, she knew she would have to fight upslope. He seemed to settle immediately into the surroundings, and this upset her. In his suit and his formalness, he seemed to have more authority than her.

Perhaps he was aware of this. His eyes were careful and she knew he was looking for a sign of weakness. But Cagalli concentrated on the ceiling, making sure her eyes did not meet his, and she found herself more confident of holding herself steady.

"I don't suppose you'll leave anytime soon?" She sounded sharper than she'd intended, but she found little sympathy for him in her own fever and pain. Even if she suspected that he'd come for comfort as he'd been prone to doing a long time ago in the past, then it did not give her the courage to turn him away.

"I heard you fell ill, so I came to visit." Athrun replied. There was strangeness to his steady way, and the familiarity of it made her bitter. She stared at him, hating his evasiveness. Perhaps her agitation caused a new wave of anxiety, for she had to part her lips slightly to breathe.

Slowly, Athrun took and cradled her in his arms, and Cagalli found no strength to shove him away as he laid her head against his shoulder.

"This place is rubbish," She heard him mutter. "It's too cold here. Isn't there heating in this room at least?"

She did not answer him, caught in a bout of coughing. And yet she found it in her to wheeze her defiance. "I like it like this. It's too warm." But even as she said it, she knew she was shivering a little. Night had fallen and the air had grown colder.

He didn't let go of her arms, trying to turn her completely towards him.

Naturally, she directed her ire to him, moving away to her original position to stare up at the ceiling. "You should leave. You have no business here."

In that strange position they'd assumed, he looked back at her impassively. "No." His eyes regarded her. "But you're ill and you should be resting back in Orb."

She coughed her irritation. The haze in her was rising and for a second, she thought she was going to either break away from him or to hit him. It wasn't merely his insistence that annoyed her the way a bluebottle would return to a dish—it was the way he was even around.

"You need to eat something." Athrun said abruptly. He rolled out from under the sheets, got to his feet, then moved to a small table in a corner to raise a tray. His voice sounded steady although she could not see his expression. "It got cold— I'll go reheat it. When you're done, I'll leave."

His footsteps echoed as he moved out. She did not watch him, for she had shut her eyes and willed herself to make them stay shut.

By the time he returned, she was ready for him. She had gotten herself to sit upright in a kneeling position as this villa required, her eyes focused on the ground now, her hands folded and her posture proud and unbreakable. He came to her but he did not sit down. He only put the tray before her and then retreated to the opposite side of the room.

She was surprised at how easily he had pinpointed her discomfort. He had understood that watching her at close proximity would have made her uncomfortable enough to refuse the food. There was some soup and a bit of rice he had managed to find and put together in the kitchen, and the food was rather plain but sufficient.

Wordlessly, she accepted the offering and she began eating. If she was unnerved by his watching her, she did not show it; for which she was glad. She finished as much as she could, eating gingerly and a bit unwillingly, then set it down and looked at him.

He watched her from where he sat at the other end of the room, and it seemed that any movement of his own would undo him. He wanted to go to her, but at the same time, he did not know why he had come. His fear and need seemed to be thundering as part of his pulse, and yet he kept away. And when she got up and inched to him, taking each step painfully and almost dazedly, he felt as if he had been turned inside out. He knelt at his side of the room, watching her until she reached the middle of the room. Here, Cagalli seemed to falter and she moved to her knees.

"Do you want me?" Her eyes could not really meet his.

He loathed the way she mocked him but found his voice slightly unsteady. "Yes."

He was so sure that she would get up and get out or perhaps strike him. But then she lifted her head slowly and he saw that her lips were trembling.

"Then take me back." Cagalli said softly. Her composure as she said this made him hate her momentarily, but then he saw that her hands were trembling and he remembered that she had long learnt to hide her tempestuousness inside the calm. She half-wished that he would come even closer, but then she thought she mostly wished that he would laugh at her and go.

"What did you say?" He found himself quivering. He looked at her and recognized the stress of passion, but then he saw it in himself firsts.

"I said, take me back." She repeated. There was an animal's dumbness about her hung head; the way she shook it slightly like a confounded mare in its pitiful, minor confusion. Her request, they both knew, had nothing to do with any other place but this one. But she had chosen to interpret his need for reaffirmation as though he had seen some sort of latent ambiguity in her statement. Unwilling to be led around, he stared at her— or glared, it seemed.

"Do you want me?"

"I don't know." She said, taking in a shuddering breath. "I don't know what I should want." But there was that familiar anger and spirit that reared itself in the way her eyes flitted up once, and there was almost ecstasy in her delirium.

"But you asked me to take you back."

"Yes. I did ask."

There was the way she bit her words as if the finality in them could be increased, and it was all he needed to cross the room and seize her. He put her arms around him, nearly crying out at the familiarity of that circumference. There was that utter feeling of loss and recovery giving way to strange numbness, and part of the numbness was joy. She put her face against him, her small hands on his chest as a matter of habit, and Athrun knew she had not forgotten.

"Do you want me again?" He said huskily, quite broken.

When the humidity reached a point where rain began to patter and stain the edge of the veranda darker, this was something they scarcely aware about. At some point, he buried his head against her, breathing, absorbing, needy and unsatiable. She told him then that she was afraid of him. To her, Athrun seemed like a negative space; absorbing and encompassing and never giving back enough. There was so much ambiguity in him that Cagalli wondered why she had even wanted him, but then he drew her to him and it was impossible for her to begrudge him when he seemed just as lost and helpless as she.

Even as their forms swelled and rose together, she could not find it in her to demand anything more than his presence. She did not ask him not to leave, but as she had always been unable to, she could not find it in her to tell him that she loved him. All the same, he had proven to be somehow cruel— taking her and then giving her back to whatever she had once belonged to. She blamed him for that, but then she blamed him for giving her away in the first place; not once but so many times.

That evening, while she rested and watched him from the veranda, he moved restlessly in the garden, unafraid of her eyes and the rain. His bare form was slick and gleaming in the twilight and the last of the rain as she watched almost protectively like a parent, and he seemed to become more vulnerable to her.

She watched him gathering rain-drenched; unripe buds, weeds and burrs from the bushes but then Cagalli could not look at him when he brought them to the side of her bed and then came back to her. Although the flowers had not bloomed, the faint fragrance was sufficient for her to slip back into the suffocating, strangely enveloping heat, and his mouth against her made her unsure of how to react suddenly.

It made her more ill when he muttered that he needed her with him.

"It's not like that." Cagalli muttered. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wishing he would not ask so much of her. "I can't— you know you can't."

"I'm coming back," Athrun said quietly. His eyes tracked hers even when she could not lift those to look at him directly."Once the trilateral agreement is settled, I'll come back."

A small, strange laugh she'd never thought she was capable of producing forced its way through the gate of her lips. "Vice-General— I'm not used to the idea of that." Cagalli shook her head, trying to smile. "But I could get used to addressing you as that."

He watched her tensely.

And then Cagalli shook her head. "Don't ask for more. I don't understand why you're doing all this now, but I can tell you that we had our nine lives." She looked at him wistfully. "We've used them all."

He faltered, his voice failing him. "I'm going to succeed soon— once the trilateral agreement is made—,"

"No!" Cagalli's eyes narrowed, pulling away from him. "It won't be made. You might be the first outside Orb to know this, Vice-General, but I will gladly tell you that Orb will play no part in this agreement."

Yet, he grabbed her by her arms as he'd always done in the past, bringing them closer in that slightly threatening, demanding manner of his. He'd never behaved this way with anyone else, she realized. Not with anyone except her.

"I don't have much time." He gritted his teeth. "Try to understand that."

She recalled what she had heard. The Intelligence Council of Plant had forwarded plans to trade military technology with the Earth Alliance at first, before the proposal had expanded to potentially include Orb.

She gazed at Athrun, thinking about his role as the Vice-Chairman, thinking about how he had been working all this while, wondering how much of the initiative had been planned and executed by him in the first place.

Had he been the one to suggest to the chairman of the Intelligence council that Orb should be part of the previously bilateral agreement? And she thought of the young woman he'd been photographed with— had she asked her father to consider what his subordinate had suggested?

Her pride smarted. For all her efforts and the way she had been holding her head high, he had known that she'd been hollowed by their experience. Still, she could not bring herself to admit this was the truth. "Don't assume things, Vice-General, I'm hardly as weak as you make me sound. I may have been a little naive in the past, but I assure you that I've learnt." Her expression turned frostier. "You're at the top of your game and you ought to continue playing that way."

"If I cared about that, I wouldn't be here."

"Then why don't you stay here for one more day?" She looked at him, trying to hide her hopes. "I won't be leaving until tomorrow afternoon—is that fine with you?"

He did not counter this, but breathed in. He parted his lips slightly, but before she could register the impact of what he was about to carry out, he was hissing her name and pressing her to him, hugging her; pushing her to return. She bit, drawing blood, but when he ran his hand across her collarbone, as if seeking something there, she froze. He took the opportunity to deepen his kiss, and she found herself responding.

"But you know what you have to do." He whispered against her flesh. "You know exactly what your role in this is. Five days from now, you'll tell them that you approve of the zone. After that, nobody will oppose this union." He held up her hand in his, kissing her fingers softly. "Having you like this isn't enough, Cagalli. You should know that."

Her voice came in a tremble of anxiety even in her lust, her need rising even as he tempted her with a fine, stray thistle stalk he whisked around her cheeks. "I—I can't. It's not right, even if it feels right to have you with me. I don't believe it's in Orb's best interests."

His voice grew tight in desperation and hatred. "You can. You must."

She did not need to tell him that it was wrong. She did not need to tell him that she had always believed that the trilateral agreement would not benefit Orb in the way that the Earth Alliance and Plant would benefit from, regardless of his presence in the whole issue.

Nor did she need to tell him that she had no right to do as he was asking just for their selfishness. There was no need to breathe a single word about the task her father had set her or the final shred of pride she had left—that everything she did for Orb was not for herself.

He was aware of all of that, and that was why he had come here.

But if she had told him, they both knew that he would not have cared in any case. His presence here was proof of that. He had learnt to be selfish, and he had learnt to control her in ways that she could not fight anymore than she could fight against her own nature.

And for that reason, she could not find the same strength she had once had to beat him away; to prevent him from finding her and marking her with his prints and the combination of their scents once more. Her last attempt at crying out for him to leave fell into the final blot of night that painted the sky its dusk, and deep inside, she felt them both stir.

Even as he took her again, she knew why he had come back. It was in the moment when he'd undone her robe to run his scarred fingers over her flesh that she knew he'd never really left. In those few hours they had left, they relived their days together.

At some point, they sat in the garden, refreshed from their bath and a meal she had managed to make, and she felt him kiss her and wished her fever had not dissipated. It would have been easier to go along with the remaining hours of his presence. And when he left her, the cloth was rumpled against her and her eyes closed for fear of remembering all he'd set before her.

It was then when Cagalli wondered if she'd made another mistake by trying to hide herself from him in that very gesture of letting him near.

* * *

-1203 days

* * *

"It will be done."

"How?"

Plenty of the Intelligence Council's members were looking either bitter, skeptical or rather cynical at what the vice-chairman had just claimed he could accomplish. The question was voiced by the chairman, who had a mere month left before his retirement.

"I have already made the arrangements."

Amongst the Intelligence council members, Yzak frowned, looking at the Chairman of the Intelligence Council. Before the other members, the Vice-chairman seemed far sharper than the chairman himself, and Yzak was slightly disconcerted by the conviction Athrun Zala made his promise with.

"I will not press any further than that, Vice-chairman," The chairman said heavily. "But let me remind you that we need Orb's agreement for Plant to reach its goal."

"Of course."

Every single person in the room knew that the chairman of the Intelligence council was desperate to do his final task well to justify te life-long pension he was geting when he resigned. For that matter, every single person knew Athrun Zala was after the seat that was soon to be vacated. There were murmurs in the chamber, but Athrun Zala's expression did not change. Looking at his colleague's face, Yzak wondered if Athrun had found some path into the past and redirected it into the future.

* * *

-1205 days

* * *

When it was time for her statement, Cagalli knew that there was only one way forward. The conference was taking place in Aprilius, and she and her parliament had arrived here with the other galactic representatives.

Earth Alliance's head said his piece, as did Eileen Canaver. Then came Cagalli's turn.

"I represent my nation, Orb, and the decision I am about to announce carries the will of those who have deliberated carefully and for the nation's interests." Those present listened to the lone voice that echoed in the magnificent but somehow bare and austere conference area. "Orb will not agree to the trilateral trading of military technology, regardless of the benefits that Plant and the Earth Alliance have spoken of in favour of this combined effort."

There were collective murmurs. It had been rather difficult to predict what Orb would have agreed to in the end, although every person present knew that Cagalli Yula Atha's will was probably the most influential in Orb's final decision.

"Lady Atha," The vice-chairman of Plant was spluttering. "The Earth Alliance—even Earth Alliance has agreed!" Behind him, the chairman of the Plant Intelligence council was looking flabberghasted. But as she watched them, an awful satisfaction seeped into her. Had they really expected her to agree? The thought of it sent bitterness into her, and it was all she could do to maintain her calm. At least her decision would be a bitter defiance to them and most of all, him.

"Your Grace, Orb would benefit from this, as would the others and the galactic peace as a whole!"

Those assenting voice grew a little louder in conviction. There were some from Orb who seemed to agree as well, murmuring behind her.

"Your Grace," Lacus Clyne was on her feet, despite the slight shake of Eileen Canaver's head. "I represent the interests of Plant and certainly Orb in maintaining Coordinator-Natural relations and I appeal to Orb to reconsider this decision. But for the sake of ensuring that the three superpowers have the abilities to work together in intelligence and security, the proposal to trade military secrets would not have withstood so much discussion and serious consideration. The trilateral agreement and training zone is a necessity and ultimately not a mere whimsy."

"No, Mediator," Cagalli Yula Atha looked squarely at her. "We have been through this discussion, to which Orb has conceded certain points that you have raised. But Orb's decision has been finalized and the official announcement will be made in a day's time. There will not be a need for any further discussion or appeal."

Lacus Clyne stood there, mute for a second. But then she nodded once and very graciously took her seat. She looked at Cagalli, seeing not so much a person she knew, but a Cagalli who was better thought of as the Orb Princess.

There was that strange aggressiveness about her person; that forced calmness of a tempest that had learnt to keep its strength within itself and a rage that had been quietened and perhaps not by its own choice.

Yzak Joule sat a few seats away from the Plant Chairman's seat. He looked at Cagalli Yula Atha and felt a surge of something almost equivalent to pity. The Orb Princess had been unable to lift her gaze to one man's own in the room. Athrun Zala, in the corner, had looked directly at the members of the Supreme Council present, and there was a queer patience in his still expression.

There was a mumble that grew within the Plant representatives, and one stood up and left. As another Orb representative began to read out the grounds for the decision, Yzak kept his eyes trained on Cagalli Yula Atha. She was perfectly composed.

It was only an hour later when Yzak found a chance to speak to Athrun. As the gathering of officials and representatives began to dissipate, he moved to Athrun's side and hissed his questions. Those around them were far too engrossed in their own discussions to really hear them.

"You said you had a plan." Yzak gritted. "What kind of plan is this when you have the Orb Princess refusing so vehemently? Did you see how shocked the chairman of Intelligence was? He promised Eileen Canaver that Orb would agree!"

Athrun only looked ahead, moving on. "She will."

As Athrun strolled out, Yzak moved after him, wondering if Athrun had really met Cagalli in Neo-Kyoto and whether something had happened. Despite his efforts to keep level-headed, he was trying to bite back his worry.

But then, he ought not to have bothered.

There was a stream of reporters outside the Supreme Council headquarters that swarmed and snaked up to them as they exited. It struck Yzak as being very strange, for talks of the agreement had not received as much attention as this in the past, even if it had been a controversial, hotly- debated topic as of late. And stranger still was how the media had chosen to gather today and all at once.

There were shouts and pointing fingers and those present were saying something and getting very excited about Athrun Zala's presence. Amongst those who were talking and gesturing loudly, some delegates and even some members of the Plant Supreme Council were present. They had all seen what the paparazzi was holding up and demanding to know about. Like the paparazzi, their colleagues were looking at Athrun Zala now.

It was after a few moments of shock that Yzak registered what some of them were holding up and what they were demanding to know about.

There were blown up pictures being waved around and dozens of other normal-sized photos being brandished and distributed amongst the paparazzi and others— pictures of the Plant former Intelligencer and current vice-chairman of the Intelligence Council, Athrun Zala. And the photographs were not just of him, but of him in a robe, sitting on the edge of some veranda, leaning in to kiss a woman.

It wasn't any woman.

It was a woman in a similar robe whose features were startlingly clear even in the gritty, too-dark quality and the way her profile was exposed just slightly for Athrun Zala's lips to meet hers.

"Sir, when did you meet up with the Orb Princess?"

"Mr. Zala, did your relationship with Lady Atha start after both of you met in the terrorist incident those years ago?"

"Did your tryst with the Orb Princess not help in today's decision?"

One man with a microphone was forcing his way through, and a guard only managed to hold him off at the last minute. As Yzak moved by Athrun's side, he felt his fists crumple up involuntarily. His pulse was moving very fast.

"If you were involved with her, why didn't she say yes to the decision?" Someone who wasn't even part of the paparazzi but a Plant official was demanding. Yzak stared at him, but Athrun seemed not to care as he made his way forward.

They were trying to get at him, but the bodyguards were holding them off.

"Given your background as a Plant Intelligencer and your familiarity with the Orb Princess, were you sent in to influence the decision she made today?"

"And in the past, Vice-chairman, she and you were involved in a life-threatening situation regarding the deceased Swedish High King—did this lead to a closer relationship in some ways?"

Athrun held up a hand, silencing them all. "No comment."

His eyes flicked towards Yzak as Athrun turned away from the reporters and the mad lights. It was then that Yzak saw it was a curious combination of cruelty and tenderness that moved in the man's face. But the silence did not last for long, for behind them, the reporters broke out into noise again.

And they both turned to see the Orb Princess at the top of the stairs, about to leave the headquarters with her own representatives and officials. The horror on her face was inexplicable and somehow crippling as she turned in the opposite direction to leave.

* * *

-1208 days

* * *

The last time Cagalli had seen Kira so upset, she had taken him in her arms and tried to soothe him like a child. That had changed a little since then, but even now, she found some strength to look at him and say cheerily, "It's not that bad, you know."

Kira would have none of it. Although he seemed to sit in his house and contain himself, his shoulders were hunched, his head in his hands and his eyes were dark. Lacus, who was sitting on his other side, looked at Cagalli, shaking her head once. Even Leon, usually playful and very hyper, was standing in a corner, looking frightened. He had woken up from his nap and come to find his parents, but found his aunt there and his father looking unhappy. The child could sense his father's mood and the house's atmosphere.

The fan above them spun steadily, and the sunny decorations of the house and its pretty plants made Kira's unhappiness seem even more severe. Lacus too, did not seem quite the same even when she'd been utterly calm and very efficient in taking Cagalli's hand and insisting that she visit Kira and Leon since she was in the Plants. They left in Lacus' private car and they did not have to explain to Kira what had transpired. The world had seen the telecast of the reporters gathering already.

The television was switched off, and the tea that Lacus had made was untouched. For once, Leon was being ignored, and Lacus' finger on her lips conveyed what the child needed to do if he wanted to stay around and not be sent back to bed. Leon obeyed, wanting to go over and comfort his father for reasons he could not understand. Yet, he managed to hold shimself there only because of his mother's instructions.

When Kira spoke, his voice was very tight with anger. "I'm only glad Lacus was there to take you here, Cagalli."

"It's fine," Cagalli said softly. "I was glad about that too." She tried to smile. "I've always wanted to stay here for a little longer than a day. Maybe this holiday will be a bit better."

It was quite clear that the Council of Elders would be wanting to see her quite soon. In the meantime, Cagalli focused on Kira, saying again, "It's fine." But a note of bitterness entered her voice. "Maybe it's better this way— maybe the lies needed to be exposed at some point. It's better this way, Kira. At least I have lesser secrets that burden me now."

Kira looked at her, silent but very upset. Lacus laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to relax him. She looked at Cagalli gently. "Why did he go to meet you?"

Cagalli bit her lip. "I—," She shuddered inwardly, thinking of his tenderness that had morphed into possession and even hunger as he'd demanded her compliance with his plans. She had refused him, because her pride and her loyalty to Orb and her father had crushed every hope of obeying him. She had wept in the privacy of the villa after he'd left— wept for the decision she knew she had to make despite what she really wanted. And now there was this. "I'm not sure now."

"He doesn't have a right to see you and cause you trouble like this." Kira said defiantly. His eyes flashed as he turned to his wife. "I can understand why he decided not to chase the past— wasn't that why he threw himself into his work? But this! Why did he come back if he was the one to leave it all behind then?"

Cagalli did not know either. She looked mutely at her brother and Lacus. Some moments later, Leon made his way hesitantly to the adults. His need to comfort the people he knew in his life and his own need to be comforted had made him go to them, despite his instructions.

Kira looked at his son, who stood near his knee, then picked the boy up and held him close.

* * *

-1208 days

* * *

In his office, Yzak watched silently as the live telecast continued. He was aware that Athrun's eyes were fixated on the screen, and he watched Athrun carefully, looking out for something he could interpret.

The Orb officials were trying to move forward from the Plant Supreme Council's headquarters. Amongst them was the target of attention— Cagalli Yula Atha.

Around the Orb officials and their bodyguards, the reporters had lists of questions that had little to do with Orb's final decision. The lists however, included questions regarding Cagalli Yula Atha's alleged affair with a Plant Intelligencer that she'd met many years ago and somehow got mixed up with in a kidnapping incident few could remember the exact details of.

For once, Athrun Zala's name was not the subject of attention or insult. That he would possibly be involved in something illicit or unsavoury was after all, the nature of his job. More damning was the Orb Princess' involvement, given her reputation as an impartial leader and Orb's allegedly infallible force.

The pain in Cagalli Yula Atha's face was clear as someone shouted, "Was your previous decision to reject the proposal for fear of the Orb media finding out that you and he were involved, Your Grace?"

"Your Grace, the kidnapping incident in the past has suggested that you might have a grudge against the Plant Intelligencer who was mostly in charge of your custody— Athrun Zala himself. Was your past decision to refuse Orb's participation a form of retaliation to Athrun Zala?"

"Lady Atha, did your recent meeting with the Council of Elders rectify your lapse of judgment and your new decision to go ahead with the trilateral agreement? What caused this reversal of your previous decision?"

She did not answer, but then the next question was already being shot at her.

"Your Grace, Athrun Zala has been contacted and he has admitted that both of you met recently after his promotion and that both of you began seeing each other from then on— did this affect your previous decisions to turn down certain key agreements Plant tried to foster with Orb?"

"Your Grace, the Orb public have generally stood by your decisions all this while—how do you think these recent events will affect your standing in next year's elections amongst the Orb Emirs?"

In Yzak's office, Athrun turned away. Yzak however, caught hold of his shoulder. His voice was very rough. "Watch on— if you are a man, you'll watch what you did to her."

Athrun looked at him expressionlessly. "I have a flight to catch in an hour."

"Where are you going?"

"I have business to settle with the Isle."

Yzak's voice was unsteady. "You did this to her and now you're turning away! Whose instructions were you acting on?"

"You know as well as I do that I can't reveal that information."

"Damn you, Zala, you know this won't make her come back to you!" Yzak was very pale. "Don't you dare say you didn't know the consequences of what you did! You sacrificed her credibility for a chance of having the vacated chairman's place, didn't you?"

He grabbed Athrun by the collar. "Was this what the Chairman of the Intelligence council promised you? That if you got Orb to agree to the zone, his swansong as the Intelligence head would be a trail of glory and he'd get his lifelong pension? Did he also promise you that you'd be one step closer to having his place when he left?"

Athrun did not struggle or fight back, and disgusted, Yzak let him go. "I never thought you'd sink so low as that." He narrowed his eyes. "You sacrificed her for your ambitions— and she faces the world's accusations now while you can achieve your goals."

"It isn't like that!" Athrun's voice was shaking. "I was asked to convince Cagalli Yula Atha to agree to the zone— the Intelligence Council had always suspected, if not known of our past relationship. I didn't do it because of them."

"Then what the hell happened?" Yzak demanded. "What is this—," he flung the control, "All about?"

"The day you told me that she was in Neo-Kyoto, I made Kitani Harumi arrange for Cagali to stay where I could reach her. I told Cagalli to go ahead with the proposal for our sakes." Athrun's expression was blank. "Of course, being who she is, she went against me and wouldn't agree to the trilateral agreement."

"But now, she has to change the position for fear of backlash and what others might say— that someone else influenced her previous, decision. You know it was made objectively, unlike this new agreement." Yzak's eyes narrowed. "Did you plan this all along?"

He was met only with silence.

"Then why the hell did you comply if you knew you would ruin her? Because you want the Chairman's empty seat, Zala?"

Athrun turned to leave. "Would you believe me if I told you that I had to find a way back, at any cost?"

Looking at Athrun Zala, Yzak knew his answer.

"But she'll never be the same person again, Athrun. Why couldn't you give her up if you knew you would have to destroy her to earn her?"

Athrun did not say anything that answered Yzak's questions. He did however, look at Yzak wearily before he left, as if he had lost the ability to comprehend and the confidence to answer.

* * *

-1226 days

* * *

It was two weeks later when Cagalli met Yzak Joule.

She wasn't sure if it had been coincidence that they'd met, but his arrival in Orb and at her office to round up the agreement had been almost inevitable with her last decision.

When he arrived, she wasn't sure if she was afraid to meet him. Surely, he had heard all the reports of the meeting she'd had with the Council of Elders. Surely, he had an imagination and an ear for the rumours that even the best of investigations could not lay waste to. Surely, Yzak Joule would have thought that the Orb Princess wasn't that impartial after all— even if there was no proof of conspiracy and nobody would say it to her face.

She did not know whether to trust him when he entered her office. He was one of Athrun Zala's friends, after all. More than that, she did not know whether she could face him bravely even if she had faced everything in the last few weeks and gone on as per normal, regardless of the whispers behind her back and Aaron's slight awkwardness with her.

"I hope Your Grace is fine," He said, when she offered him a seat. The brusqueness that was characteristic of him seemed to hold some kind of gentleness, and Cagalli was glad sympathy was not present in his steady, leveled gaze.

"I'm fine, Head General, thank you." She poured him tea, keeping herself steady. "Now, about the final draft of the Sales of Military Technology act, there is this clause—,"

The whole week had been a rerun of a nightmare with the paparazzi trailing her. It was as if three years had never passed and she had never quite left the ordeal behind her. This time however, his name had chased her even while strangers used it as a weapon against her— demanding to know and demanding that she answer their questions.

By the time they were done with the papers, she was quite glad that Yzak Joule would be leaving now. She had stamped and checked all of the papers already, and as she did so, she wondered if she was making yet another mistake by reversing her decision and going ahead with this.

But Cagalli found that she was tired; so tired that she did not care anymore. The Council of Elders had interrogated her on the grounds for her first rejection of the trilateral agreement. Their insinuations in that awful three hours had been far more than she could bear. The Head Elder had looked at her as if he couldn't trust her anymore, and even Lady Sahaku had seemed torn and doubtful when Cagalli had explained her grounds for rejecting the trilateral proposal.

Cagalli pursed her lips now. If they believed the right decision was to go ahead with this, then she would comply. She had already gone through a press conference where she had carefully admitted that her earlier belief that the agreement was not in Orb's favour might have been short-sighted.

The reporters had clamoured for more details as to what 'short-sighted' really meant, but the Council of Elders had issued a statement finding Cagalli Yula Atha's decisions to be made in all honesty. The photograph was still floating around, but Plant's Intelligence Council was in the process of releasing a statement to the media that the photograph had been taken before the trilateral proposal had even been made— that the photograph was a hoax or a cleverly altered one to put Athrun Zala or even Cagalli Yula Atha in the worst light possible. Some photography experts had been brought in to declare that it was altered; experts who were well known in their fields. After all, there was no real copy that had been anonymously sent to the media— it had been a digital one.

As it was, things in Orb were looking to be back on track. Although there were whispers in the office at times, the polls had revealed that the people were still largely supportive of her. Her track record and the covering up had proved to be her savior, as was her grit and her refusal to resign from her office.

Cagalli did not know how to tell Yzak Joule or anyone that she had, in all honesty, been split between giving approval and refusing the agreement. She had swung towards rejection because the arguments for rejection had just been stronger in her opinion. But if her opinion was being doubted because she had been thought of as being partial then, Cagalli Yula Atha would go with what everyone was now firmly convinced as being the right decision.

Naturally, Cagalli was glad when they were done with this whole business. Some part of her felt like she was betraying herself in order to put an end to the nastiness of it all, but then, she tried to remind herself that she had been quite split with her initial decision anyway. But he did not seem to want to leave. His eyes were studying her and the way she carried herself proudly still. She wondered if he'd noticed the dark circles and the paleness in her face that she herself had noticed, and she wondered if he ultimately pitied her.

The thought of that made her very unhappy, and she blurted out despite her better judgment, "I was a fool."

Yzak looked at the woman he had come to think of as his friend. His voice was quiet. "How do you think that photograph of you and him landed up with the media?"

She shook her head, frightened at all the possibilities and how Yzak was operating on the assumption that it was even real. They both knew it was a real photograph. "I don't know."

He chose his words carefully. "He has enemies, Your Grace."

She shuddered. "So they sent this?"

He pointed to the papers lying before Cagalli. "He has enemies who wanted him to fail. He was in charge of a great deal of planning for this agreement, and he would have been in the prime position to take over the Head of Intelligence if the deal had gotten through."

"It didn't at first." Cagalli mumbled.

"At that point, his enemies were getting ready to cry out that your initial refusal to agree was because you did not want to work with Athrun Zala. The blame would have been on him if you refused. And you did refuse. Up to the point when the photographs were released, everyone believed you bore a grudge against him because of the kidnapping incident." His expression remained calm. "Those who know nothing of both your pasts, anyway."

"So his enemies sent out this photograph?" She whispered."Why would they?"

"I don't know either." Yzak's expression was very steely. "But because of the photograph, now it seems like you did not agree to the trilateral zone because you had a tryst with him. Now, the public thinks that you wanted to break it off and prevent him from working in Orb. It has happened with other leaders in Earth Alliance before— those who had affairs with diplomats tried to prevent them from arriving so they would not potentially leak information to the media. And with your reputation for being fiercely private with who you choose to see, I'm afraid you would seem to fall in that category."

"I understand that." Cagalli said, deathly still. "Maybe that's why I agreed with the Council of Elders that going ahead with the trilateral deal was the right way to put an end to all of this." Her expression crumbled. "Even though I don't really know what's the right decision anymore." She shook her head. "Whoever sent that wanted to destroy me, I think."

"Your Grace," Yzak said quietly. "Perhaps you are missing the biggest factor in this. It wasn't Athrun Zala's enemies who had the most to gain from sending out this photograph."

"It was Athrun Zala himself." She found that her strength in saying it came from her hatred and misery. "I have heard enough to know. He was gunning for the Intelligence Head's soon-to-be vacated post. Now he'll have it even when the damage is done— the photograph will be declared to be a fake, and his work in setting up the trilateral proposal will be recognized."

"Of course." Yzak's honesty was somehow comforting in its insensitivity.

She did not dare to say what she was really thinking; that Athrun had made use of her once again. But she was dealing with Yzak Joule, and time had not made him less honest even if it had mellowed him somewhat.

"I'll tell it to you straight." He said brusquely. "Because of this photograph, he's on the home run to the next step in his career. There's little that will justify bumping him off now."

Cagalli thought of the way Athrun had appeared—the way he'd insisted on putting her to bed; the way they'd eventually spent those hours together and the way he'd left. It was a good thing she was already seated, for her legs would have surely failed her then. If she had reached certain conclusions in the hours that had followed from the day she'd seen the photographs, Yzak's presence here forced her to accept the conclusions she had not wanted to think about.

"But I don't understand!" She repeated in her bewilderment. She looked at him with wild eyes and Yzak knew that for all her intelligence, Cagalli Yula Atha was breaking. "This isn't like him— this ruthlessness."

"You don't think it's like him, Your Grace?"

She bowed her head. "Even now, I don't quite believe he never needed me. Or maybe-," Her voice shook. "Maybe I can't blame him entirely because I needed him when he came to me."

Her honesty made him ashamed of his own secrets and how he was keeping so many things from her on Athrun's behalf. He did not know what to say, and a terrible, searing pain filled him when he looked at the Orb Princess. He thought of the way Athrun's gaze had been filled with triumph and leveled at the members of the Supreme Council, and Yzak wondered why Athrun's nature was such a destructive one.

She shook her head, trying not to tremble. "I never thought he'd be so fixated on positions and climbing to the top. Why would he do that?"

But as she said this aloud, she knew the answer even before Yzak provided confirmation. Perhaps, Athrun had never intended to do more than meet her again and make her accept him once more. She thought of how he had pleaded with her to agree and how she had refused, and she thought of the hatred in Athrun's eyes even when he took her in his arms.

"You see," Yzak said softly, "The only game he knows how to play when it concerns you is the zero-sum."

* * *

-1280 days

* * *

In the days that followed, Cagalli did not know how she found herself plodding and ploughing on. If she had seemed to be infallible in the past, now she seemed more defiant than ever. The whispers that lingered did not bother her even when as they became less obvious, and the humiliation she had suffered seemed to become fainter as the public accepted that the photographic evidence of a supposed tryst that she had engaged in was bogus.

As always, Aaron was there for her. He never said anything about what he must have heard, but when he found her weak and miserable in her office one evening, he closed the door, tossed some files he had brought in into a corner, and came to sit with his arm around her. She was not sure what she was doing at times, but she knew that the Council of Elders were watching her and so she did her best at her tasks. To anyone, she might have appeared normal and with a great deal of spunk to handle the spiteful attacks against her person and judgments for Orb.

To those who knew her, they did not know what to make of it.

On one weekend, she accepted Markio's invitation to the orphanage. Nikolas was twelve this year, and she was fond of the boy with large eyes and clever hands. He had always made wooden toys and gifts for his brothers and sisters, as he called the other orphanage children, but it was his birthday this time and Cagalli was determined to find time to visit them all.

They celebrated with a cake that Cagalli brought, a magnificent, creamy concoction with strawberries and chocolate piping. The children stood in awe of the pastry and she laughed in joy with Kira and Lacus when Nikolas blew out twelve candles one by one— to remember everything more clearly, he'd said.

There were flowers everywhere and the jasmine scent was strong in the late afternoon. Sea-lilies lay spider-like on the rocks, the barnacles encroaching and the weed washed in futile ropes on the shores. In the hours that were spent and passed, the evening tide had grown strong and the waves could be heard even from inside the house.

"Pass it on!" One child was throwing a cloth toy to another, giggling and deprigin the toy's owner of getting back.

"That's mean!" The toy's owner cried, scrambling to reclaim ownership.

Cagalli found that in this place, she could forget some of her worries and return to the person she'd once been satisfied to be— a simple, young girl who'd dried the dishes that others washed and a person who'd survived a war and could still talk of hopes and dreams and afford to accept ideals as a form of reality.

She braided the children's hair when they came to her—the girls with their shy smiles and sweet voices and the boys with their gifts and delight that Cagalli had come to visit.

Lacus had made tea and supplied other lovely snacks and Kira bounced the children on his knee and laughed at their jokes. With his parents, Leon had visited, and if there was any jealousy directed towards a child who belonged to his own parents, it was mostly good-natured and of the orphanage children's own longing.

Markio sat tranquilly, listening to the children patter around and play. With every year, there were children who asked to go out into the world to find a place to make their mark in. With every year, they grew older— all of them. Cagalli wondered if Markio ever wept when a child of his left. She had never had the courage to ask Markio that, and as she watched the children play and chatter, she wondered if she would recognize Ko.

"Cagalli!" Inola was pulling on her sleeve. "Come with us to the shore!"

"What for?" Cagalli said curiously, bending down and rubbing a smudge away from the girl's face.

"Just come!"

A chorus broke out. "It'll be fun! Come on!"

Eventually, she agreed to follow some children and Kira to collect seashells. Some of the children wanted seashell murals in their bedroom, and Kira had promised to help them mount their treasures on their walls if they could find any. That had prompted a mass decision to go for a late afternoon walk, and Cagalli had been dragged along. Laughing, she nodded and watched them cheer.

As they walked along the beach, the children began to sing and some trotted along with their pails, waving their spades in a cheery dance. Lacus clapped and sang along with them, her son holding another child's hand and asking to be taught the song. Cagalli looked at her twin and found that he too, was looking at her. Next to her, Lacus took her hand, and without knowing why, Cagalli reached for her twin's hand. Their hands in her own, she felt a little less weary.

But the soft, dream-like singing of the children around them was interrupted by a cry from one of them. The others were crying out too, and they began to rush forward, save that Kira let go of Cagalli's hand and stepped in front of them, his eyes flashing. Where she stood, Lacus did not let go of Cagalli. Her grip grew tighter.

As she looked to what they and the children had seen, Cagalli became aware that there was someone waiting at the furthest end of the shore. His car was almost hidden behind rocks where it was stationed on some minor road, and it was clear that he had been walking towards the house.

Her breath hitching in her throat, Cagalli pulled her hand away from Lacus', not sure whether to run or whether to stay. But Lacus re-caught her hand, shaking her head and giving her a comforting glance.

Athrun took a step closer, and Kira was taking one forward too.

"I don't want you around her." Kira's voice was shaking. 'Who told you to come?"

"I asked him to." Lacus spoke. Her voice was somehow very controlled. "She deserves to know."

Kira did not turn around. His silence was disconcerting, and the waves' slamming against the rocks and shore did nothing to distract from Kira's lack of response.

The children around Kira were frightened. They could see the anger in Kira's face and the strange coldness in Lacus' eyes. If they had been prepared to rush forward and welcome Athrun with open arms, they were now held behind by Kira. At the back, Cagalli did not know how to meet Athrun's eyes, despite her knowledge that she had done nothing to be ashamed of.

When Athrun spoke, all present heard his voice tremble. "I need to speak to her, Kira. Don't blame Lacus— I asked her to let me meet Cagalli."

But Kira's expression did not change, and he flung one arm across, blocking Athrun from coming nearer. "You don't deserve to come here, Athrun." His own conflict was clear. "You may be my friend, but you have no reason to be here."

As she gazed at her brother and Athrun, Cagalli knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable. She took her hand from Lacus', and this time, Lacus did not stop her.

"No, please!" Cagalli fought her way forward. She held her brother's arm and begged. "I need to speak to him alone."

Kira stared at her, his confusion and doubt very apparent. But Lacus was the first to react. She turned to the children, and her voice was calm— conversational, even. As she spoke, the winds began to blow again, and it seemed she had dissipated something terrible in the air. If it was not gone entirely, she had distracted it sufficiently for the children to observe her authority.

"Shall we return?" She said mildly. "I think we have enough shells. Shall I help to wash them?"

The children could not find their former cheer or the energy they had displayed, but they obeyed her and moved in the direction they had came from, plenty of them turning back at least once to stare at the grownups. Lacus came to Kira's side, pulling gently at his arm, and it was only after a pause that he nodded and turned away with her, moving after the children.

Not waiting to see them return, Cagalli moved forward, past Athrun, and began to stride to the cliffs. Wordlessly, he followed some distance behind her.

The caves she had once explored with the children seemed less intriguing now— those were hollow and filled with nothing but dark spaces and air. The curiosity of the place and the pleasure of the salt and sand against her feet felt like quicksand now; drawing her deeper and further in.

She reached the end of the cliffs before she was ready to speak, and for that reason, she did not dare to turn around. He waited, and finally, she thought she was ready to speak without her voice breaking.

Yet, as Cagalli turned around, ready to rebuke him, he broke in first. "I'm sorry."

"I've heard about your soon-to-be promotion." Cagalli said quietly. 'Shall I congratulate you?"

He looked at her, and she hated his ambivalence.

"Are you satisfied now?" Her voice sounded steady overall, but as she continued, her words became more clipped and even more fragmented. "I'm glad I'm seeing you today, Vice-Chairman. I deserve this."

"Don't say that." His voice was very low. "It wasn't a mistake that we met again."

She clenched her fist, her eyes blinded. She thought of how he had come to her and entered her room; how he had kissed her and tried to make her accept him. She had loved him even in her delirium; wanted him despite how meaningless their few hours would be in the way they said nothing of significance to each other. Her encounter with him had seemed more like a passing glimpse of a past with a stranger she could not recall, and her fever had broken her consciousness even as he'd taken advantage of it. In their heat and longing, they may as well have been animals who did not know any better than to seek out each other before leaving. "Did I mean so little to you?

"You mean everything to me." His eyes were very tired. "That hasn't changed for a single day, Cagalli."

"Then why did you have to punish me like this?" Her voice was a cry. "Did you think that I was satisfied with watching you from afar, Athrun? Or did you think that it was easy for me to learn to be satisfied with those few months I had with you?" She reached out, rumbling his collar with her clenched hand. "Or did you think that you were the only one who was miserable by how we had to see each other like it was some illicit affair?"

She dropped her hand, taking one step back, trying to calm her breathing. "At least you got your promotion, Vice-Chairman. At least something good came out of this."

Athrun looked at her impassively. "Did you think I was after the Intelligence Head's seat?"

"I don't know." Cagalli said violently. She folded her arms, angered at the wind that whipped around them and even the sea that seemed too calm in the evening. "I suppose you gave me no choice but to believe so."

He hesitated. "If that is truly the case, would you forgive me?"

"You want forgiveness?" Cagalli found that the tears building in her eyes were of indignation and even bitterness. More than that, she was ashamed of how she could not use that against him; to taunt and to mock him.

With a great deal of effort, she managed to say, "I don't know."

But inside her, she knew what the real answer was. She looked at him angrily even as he kept his gaze leveled at her, the truth spilling out despite her desire to hurt him and to lie. "For God's sake, Athrun, you know I would forgive you even if you had done worse against me." Her voice was crumbling now. "That's the way it's always been." Her tears were falling and she wiped them away violently. "Although I pray for it to stop— everyday."

He took a step towards her but she flung her hand out, shoving him back. Her eyes were wild and her lips looked red from her biting. Stung, he stood there, watching as she looked away from him, almost as if she could not bear to lay her eyes on him.

"I did it because I had to find a way back to you."

She shook her head. "That's impossible, Athrun. You did this because I refused to do as you asked. You begged me too— you didn't think it was difficult for me to watch you beg, did you? But it was! When you were punishing me, didn't you realize that I was tempted to do as you'd asked? Even if it was against everything I stood and still stand for." Her hands twisted together. "But maybe it's for the better that you did what you did."

"No!" Athrun reached out, catching and pulling her hand in his. She did not shake it away; too exhausted from her own efforts to keep her tears from showing. "I had to rise above what was a post that was meant to contain me. It was the only way to return to Orb."

Around them, the sands shifted in rhythm to the wind and the house seemed to far for the eye to see. Their time was like that— too distant and too insignificant despite the impact of the memories on her, and she wished that something could reach out and smite every feeling she had for him.

"You could have returned anytime." Cagalli said. Her voice was small and still shaking. "That's why you dared to find me in Kyoto. You knew I wouldn't refuse you when you came to meet me. You knew it was a matter of time before I caved in and begged you to be with me. You knew I belonged to you even when you left." Her eyes grew accusing. "You knew that all this time."

"But I wouldn't have had the right to meet you and belong to you." Athrun said. He refused to let go of her, and he took her face in his hand, making her look back at him. "What good would it be if I had rejected the Intelligence Council's offers and tried to find you in Orb?"

This was true, and she looked away. They had always been aware of that. But still, she bore a grudge against him for his fear of coming back to her. Stubbornly, she shook her head, refusing to listen, afraid to be swayed by him once more.

"Don't you understand?" He cried. "My plans came in full circle because at the time that I was put into the council, there were plans for the zone." He breathed in shakily, trying to make her eyes look at his. "You know that! I realized I could return to Orb to meet you rightfully if I became the Head of Intelligence."

He had always considered whether he was destroying her to get what he wanted, but he had not found any other way to meet her and feel as if he had any right to.

As he gazed at Cagalli, he could sense that she was aware that he was right. But her expression was cold and he knew that she could not forget how he had used her all over again.

"I don't want to listen, Athrun. There's no more need for that now." Her tears were rolling down her white, thinned cheeks, and she seemed to have shrunk or have grown weaker. "You never understood that you never had to prove yourself for me to need you. It certainly wasn't enough for you that I had to teach myself to be content with those months we had together." She laughed painfully. "You had to go one step further and hurt me just so you could step into Orb and have the world's approval— as if mine was not enough."

In his hopelessness and rage, her grabbed her closer, pressing her face so close their lips might have touched. She was not struggling— she only looked at him with that hollow despair.

"Do you know why I chose to accept the post that the Numbers offered me even after my acquittal?" He shook his head. "They knew, Cagalli. The Numbers found out about our relationship. They could have exposed it and put you in trouble at any point of time after my acquittal in Plant."

She stared at him in shock, her eyes growing wide. "Yzak Joule—?

"No." He looked at her sadly. "Yzak might have told them about the relationship we shared during the Wars, but he never told them anything more than that. The Numbers weren't half as careless as what I'd always imagined— they kept spies for their own spies. They had enough evidence of what we shared—," He broke off, unable to voice it. But both of them knew that the Numbers had found out that Cagalli Yula Atha was rekindling her past relationship with Athrun Zala.

During the internal investigations concerning allegations that Athrun Zala had acted in insubordination, the Numbers had found more than the paintings but testimonies from some of the other Eyes and even some aides. Beyond that, the Eyes had also been watched by the Numbers' own personal spies within the Isle.

"If I had not agreed to return to the Isle," Athrun said softly, "The Numbers would have exposed your relationship with me. They also offered me an incentive to work— that I could take Epstein and the twins and go to Orb. But I knew that they would always have something to control me."

"My vulnerability as the Orb Princess." Cagalli realized. Her pulse was beating very fast, and she felt sickened. As she looked at Athrun and found, not for the first time, how ill he really looked beyond his stiff composure and competence, Cagalli felt an ache in her.

"I had to use their weapon first." He whispered. His eyes were scrunched in pain. "That was the only way."

She looked at Athrun and found that for all her grudges against him, she could not sense that he was lying now. There was not a trace of hiding away or a sense that he did not want to let her near. She took herself away, taking a step back to look carefully at him. "Was that why you amassed power and got close to the Intelligence chairman?"

He nodded. His face was very pale in the night that had fallen. "I was preparing to take over the role. My relationship with you was the control they had over both of us— and that was why I had to put it in the open first."

"Then why is the Plant Supreme Council declaring the photograph a fake now?" She demanded.

Athrun took her near, pressing her head against his chest. "The way the photograph is being declared as a fake was Yzak and Eileen Canaver's doing.

They realized that I had always been trying to find a way back to you."

"But you have it." She said quietly. She thought of the Council of Elders and the way she was little more than a pawn in many ways. He had been a pawn for others as well— for so many others. But that didn't matter anymore, Cagalli found. It did not matter when he had never meant to hurt her. "You always had a way back to me."

He breathed slowly, spent and broken. "I want to meet Epstein and the twins once more and to understand what it is that they really want. After that, I will tender his resignation—the Intelligence council has nothing left they can hold me back with.

"For all I did and for how hard I strived, some part of me always knew that I would have no right to come back to you even when all my plans had completed. At very least, nobody can use the weapon they once had against you and I."

She took him to her, feeling his pulse race against hers. "I've always been waiting. I've tried to belong somewhere—to someone else." She looked up at him miserably. "But I can't, Athrun."

"I hoped you wouldn't." He said in a small, broken voice. "Was I too selfish?"

"No." She took his face in her hands now, kissing him gently. "Why couldn't you tell me?" As she looked at him, she found her sobs breaking into the air now. "Why do you always have to take all the burden on yourself and have me hate and mistrust you?"

He said nothing, but he took her hand. She stumbled after him, not knowing where she was going with the midnight air dazzling and the sea shining so brightly it seemed to blind her. She was scarcely aware of how they were moving against the air's current, fighting the path of the wind and finding each other and themselves again. But the scent of leather and him filled her head and she was crying, begging and the world had become compressed into little more than themselves and the tiny space they occupied; hidden behind rocks and their voices drowned by waves.

Then they lay there, opening the roof, watching the sky with its lights and the strange song of water against unforgiving cliffs. They talked— they found the strength to laugh, and they found some reason to believe. As he leaned over her, blocking out the stars, she stroked his cheek with her hand. "When you are ready, come back to me."

How many times had she requested that, and how many times had he turned away and left her? How many times had she known that he did not dare to promise to return, but how many times had she hoped she could reach him? And how long more did those memories hold hurt for her when all they should have amounted to was proof of their helplessness?

Resting there, her body against his and her arms holding him, she could not remember. She only heard his voice against her ear; the way his mouth found hers and demanded her, and she heard little more than what he had promised—that he would return to where he belonged.

* * *

- 1301 days


	34. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 33

* * *

The streets were filled even more than before, despite this being a central area where Orb's busiest people gathered to keep their eyes on the stock exchange and the offices were stacked like sugar cubes in impossibly high piles. While a great deal of olden architecture had been preserved, the change of landscape with times had been undeniable and Orb's central business district was that queer juxtaposition of the quaint and the spanking, corporate-styled new.

Today, thousands of people were crammed into those spaces. They formed streams of movement, spilling out of streets, pouring everywhere, ordered in lines only by the officers on duty. The noise they made was deafening, and the cheers were already breaking out into the air despite the absence of the person that they were waiting for.

It was a strange sight, because the procession seemed to be emerging from outside the crowded place and not coming within it. The suburbs and places along outskirts of the business district seemed to be where the old houses and the more traditional areas remained untouched. It was the same outer rim of Orb's capital where the famed Sarano Abbey attracted hundreds of tourists, and it was the same rim where the Orb Nobles tended to situate themselves. It seemed entirely incongruous that they would be appearing and meeting in the central part of the capital today, especially since the Orb Nobles were generally of discreet habits.

Of course, this wasn't really a day for solely business. Today was a celebration.

Amidst the thousands, boy was moving fast along the streets, a cap jammed on his head and his face flushed with joy and excitement. He seemed tall and gangly, with eyes that flashed jet in his young face, and he pressed against the crowd that had gathered to watch the procession. The class had ended early today, and he had rushed here on the first shuttle bus available. He was in time, and for that, he was glad.

The air was coloured with paper and balloons that floated high, rubber jewels that would only be found flat and devoid of life on fields much later. Laughing and enjoying the few hours of sunlight in the autumn, he shifted his satchel on his shoulder, trying to get a better view of the bodyguards riding on their motorbikes. Today, he decided, he would stay out a little later with his friends- it was a holiday tomorrow, after all, and there was no class. He enjoyed school and lessons, of course, but holidays were certainly welcome too.

"Kaye!"

He turned, watching his classmates try to keep up and press up to him. He had, after all, rushed right out of class the minute the bell had rung. Impatiently, he waved to them, keeping his feet moving so as to keep close on the path the grand car was clearing. If he could keep up, he told himself fiercely, he would catch a glimpse of her. Everybody was pushing forward, trying to see the person within the car, but he was smaller than them and more determined.

The path was cordoned off in the town square, but he could see something of her face as he followed the length of the cordon. He wasn't the only person trying to do so, and some people mashed against him as they stared, looking and waving at the person waving back.

He had been specifically instructed not to look for her or to let her know that he was in Orb. It had been difficult to do that, because he had so much he wanted to tell her and so many things that he loved about Orb. It wasn't just the school or the friends of his age or even the beaches that he visited on his free days— there was so much he had to tell her.

Even now, as he watched the Orb Princess waving from the car, he knew that it was a matter of time before they met again.

His classmates caught up to him, staring at the end of the procession as it tailed along. The spectators were all applauding still, and more balloons were being sent off into the air. Flowers were strewn on the path, never mind that the wheels had probably crushed some of them.

He watched, his voice and hands stilling, his wild joy at seeing her dwindling somewhat. But as he watched the car move off slowly, he crossed his fingers tightly, muttering a wish to himself.

Almost to himself, Jorne said admiringly, "That was the Orb Princess!"

Michel was waving still, calling out with so many others in the crowd. He too, had been eager to finish class to catch the parade. "Happy Birthday!" He sang loudly, clapping his hands like all those present.

And Sera turned. Her voice was high with excitement, and her hands were emptied of the flowers she had heaped into the air. "Isn't she wonderful, Kaye?"

He nodded, beaming.

* * *

-1649 days

* * *

"Lady Cagalli."

She looked up, trying not to flinch.

"Surely you know why you're here." The Head Elder was peering at her.

Certainly, she knew that she was about to go through something of an inquisition after her appearance at her official birthday celebration wearing a ring on her finger. She had waited patiently for the days after that; a sadistic part of her feeling disappointment when it did not come immediately. After all, the news had swirled around from the café that the average citizen drank tea in to the office that those at the top of the food chain worked in. She had quite expected to be dragged to the Sarano Abbey almost immediately after what she had done. She had been asked to go there, of course, but Ernest Rohm had only showed up a week after the incident—as if the Elders were expecting all the talk to have died down by then!

The questions would be direct for once. She had not given the Elders a chance to use their discretion and patience this time. Rather, she'd simply taken the bull by the horns.

As she looked at their expressions, she knew that she would have to pay for that.

Last year, the semi-scandal of forged evidence of a tryst between her and Patrick Zala's son. During her twenty-eight birthday, the newspapers had staged a nice summary of all that news, although most had concluded that it hadn't been anything more than a random smear campaign directed towards Athrun Zala rather than the Orb Princess.

A year ago, it had been divine intervention that Orb needed her so much. Orb had relied on her so much in the aftermath of last year's events that it could not have her abdicating because of some clause concerning the Orb nobles and some affair they deemed her to have been unwillingly and wrongly caught up in. There were polls and academic articles on the adjoining page about customs and their place in the current society, but Cagalli had ignored all that discussion throughout the last year.

Of course, it only took another year, the most current birthday celebration and a ring to bring all of that up again. The papers and the prime time talk shows were currently blaring all sorts of headlines- from the recent statements she had made regarding her failure to marry and her past alleged tryst with an intelligencer that nobody knew anything very significant about.

After all, she had given them something else to talk about recently.

"The Elders would like to know who gave you the ring that you wore to your twenty-ninth birthday celebration in the presence of the other Orb Nobles and the international guests. The same ring that you now wear, I presume." The Head Elder cleared his throat. He seemed quite upset that she had appeared in the Sarano Abbey wearing what had caused all the furor.

One Elder cut in, possibly for her defense. "My lord, she had no choice but to show up at that celebration—it wasn't something she could decline the invitation of."

Indeed she had, in the resplendence of a seafoam-coloured gown that she had to wear at least once a year—ever since she had gone through her coronation. There was no possibility of refusing to participate in the long-drawn ride through the capital's square on that national holiday, or the endless bursts of confetti, the waving to the people beyond a bullet-proof window, and the hours of meeting all sorts of important people right after that. For this year's birthday however, she'd put aside the traditional gems that had been long matched for her since her first appearance to claim her title right after the First War. She'd worn only a ring, and that had been enough in so many ways.

"The Orb Princess' inability to not go through the annual procedures is irrelevant." Another Elder said sharply. "Given that all of us present understand the significance of wearing a ring on that finger—let alone Lady Cagalli who knew that the public eye was on her at that very celebration that she had to attend."

"Who gave you that ring, Lady Cagalli?" The Head Elder repeated. He looked at her unblinkingly.

Somehow, she found it in her to answer with a simplicity that seemed far more powerful than defiance. She had not meant to appear that way, but the conviction was undeniable in her voice, as was the presence of a band around her finger.

"It was Athrun Zala who gave me this." Her gaze did not waver. "He and I are recognized as husband and wife by Plant's law— it has been that way before the end of the Second War."

There were no gasps or anything to that dramatic effect. Of course it was so. They, amongst all those who might have or could have, would have dug into a history that Cagalli Yula Atha had wanted to keep secret for so long. He'd sacrificed her efforts one year ago, and since then, Cagalli was sure the Elders had tried to learn as much as they possibly could. Perhaps, she realized, they had been hoping that the past would have stayed buried and that there was nothing more except rumours for the idle mouths around.

As she looked at them now, she was sure they had learnt something more even without her recent display.

"Is it still in force?" One Elder asked. His frown was so deep that it seemed to consume his eyes.

"Since he was proven to be alive, yes." Cagalli was not given a chance to answer, for another Elder had butted in. "He reappeared before he was declared legally dead. We have never annulled the engagement."

"What a bother." Another Elder said roughly. "He should have stayed dead."

Cagalli admired his honesty, if nothing else.

The others began to speak amongst themselves, and she waited for the Head Elder to call for silence. It was only been after a great deal of his coughing and thumping of his walking stick that silence was restored.

"If you must ask questions, my learned colleagues," He wheezed, "You must likewise give Lady Cagalli a chance to respond."

Gratefully, she looked at the Head Elder, but he seemed to radiate disapproval even as he waved his indication for the Elders to ask away.

"Are you seeing him even now?" One Elder demanded.

They were all been aware of the most recent reports, even if not the past ones of a supposed tryst during a key conference in Neo-Kyoto. As it was, the key corporation that the Zala family had owned had recently acquired a research conglomeration that was based in Orb.

According to what Cagalli knew, plenty of ministers had tried to find ways to prevent the acquisition. There was no denying that they did not want the conglomeration to be bought over by anyone, lest of all a Coordinator like Athrun Zala. He had resigned from Zaft and the Plant public service sector some months before the acquisition—to focus on his family businesses, he claimed, in a public statement.

Of course, Cagalli thought as she looked at the Elders, nobody believed him. It didn't help that the enterprises that the Zala family had owned had once been used to develop weapons and to collect data for effective space and deep-sea piloting. Those enterprises had been reverted into biotechnology research businesses after the Second War, but it seemed that nobody quite believed Athrun Zala when he had announced that it would continue that way under him as a major shareholder. His takeover bid with the Orb-based conglomerate as the preparation for a merger was certainly good enough evidence for people who believed that he was still taking instructions from Plant or Zaft.

But the Orb government owned very few stakes in the private enterprise, and it had been a legal takeover for Athrun Zala's corporation. Cagalli of course, had not been involved much in the Economic Development board's discussions of their efforts to prevent the takeover. The only thing she had been asked to by the board was to give a decision on was the approval of the disapproval of the conglomerate selling out to Athrun Zala. Of course, she had given it. Only the tight control of the media prevented more allegations from flying in the air, and even then, Athrun Zala had done the takeover quite successfully.

It was a good thing that nobody had gotten close enough to ask her opinion on the whole matter, because Cagalli didn't quite have one. On one hand, it seemed almost certain that he was trying to find his way back to Orb. On the other, she was afraid to hope and afraid to know too much. But that itself, was certainty that she believed him—she'd chosen to pick out a ring and wear it even when she'd appeared to have a hundred people wishing her a blessed birthday. Their eyes had flown to her hand—the ring was more ostentatious than she had thought, but perhaps he'd always planned for it to be.

As always, there had been little in Athrun Zala's way when he'd chosen to buy up the Orb research conglomeration. He had done it at a commercial loss, but the long-term benefits were potentially in his favour. It had been headline news for at least a week, since the conglomeration had been crucial in Orb's prowess as the leader in that field of terra-forming technology. He had never spoken to her since their last meeting, and a year had passed before she'd known it. The last she could recall, he had seemed to have aged somewhat. She wasn't sure if it was his appearance or whether it was how mellowed or even more composed he seemed in public.

Cagalli took in a deep breath. She knew her voice was shaking, despite her best efforts. "I am not seeing him presently."

"Did you keep in contact with Athrun Zala during the buy-over of the Tristernte Research conglomerate?" Another Elder questioned.

"No, my Lady." She looked steadily at them. "I have not been in contact with him at all." She was aware that her answer was not quite clear in the light of the photograph in the past scandal, but the ambiguity was currently her shield.

"Then what is that significance of that ring?" One lord said roughly. "Why do you wear it when you have no contact with him? I remind you, Lady Cagalli, that you were in the public eye the whole time you appeared at your birthday celebration— that display is not something that the Elders expected of you."

"I wear it because I have every intention of meeting him again." Cagalli said quietly.

She watched their expressions harden. "Do your Graces disapprove of my decision?"

Some cleared their throats, some muttered amongst themselves, and some seemed unforgiving. The hardened expressions were somehow familiar looks on their faces. She had long become used to it all.

As it was, her fate had always been hanging in the balance. If she finally couldn't recover from the trauma she had cited as a reason for not marrying, she would simply have to abdicate. The Council of Elders thought they'd bested her— they thought that letting her have her way would be enough time for Orb to become even more powerful. She had understood what most of them were thinking even when they'd decided that she could postpone the effect of the law. None of them expected her to marry at all, but they were surely thinking that Orb could benefit in the present and she'd be kicked off once she'd served her purpose.

She had seen it in their eyes; that cool scorn, that dismissive glances they had given her. They were sure that in eight years time, they would have milked enough out of her for them to kick her off and send her on their way without Orb making too much of a loss or fuss.

She had understood this at very least. In some of their hearts, she had been bound to fail at some point, and she already had at this point.

Already, some Elders had risen and were preparing to leave. One looked at her with displeasure. "I never thought that the Atha Heir would be such a letdown. Your father gave his life for nothing, I think."

So she stood there, watching them, wondering if she was letting somebody down or if her father would have looked at her the way some of the Elders were facing her now.

But the Head Elder thumped his walking stick for silence. "With all due respect, nobody leaves this room until I do."

Uncomfortably, the Elders who had threatened to leave now moved back into their seats.

"I speak for the Elders and I represent all in stating the facts. As a Council, we are privy to dispensing advice regarding the wisest course of action for the Orb Royals and in particular, the Orb Head that is yourself. But I tell you, Lady Cagalli, we are no more than an advisory at the end of the day." He shook his head. "Your decision is your own, and if mine counts at all, I say that it is better you use your discretion and experience with the recent debacle regarding the trilateral zone."

There had been mutters again, and Cagalli looked pleadingly at the Head Elder. "How should I explain myself for his and my sakes?"

"That isn't for just me to say." The Head Elder said heavily. "I represent only myself as I say this, Lady Cagalli, but Athrun Zala is unlikely to be accepted by the Orb public if he insists on being more than a visitor." He shook his head. "At very least, I do not accept him as a worthy person to partner you, Lady Cagalli, and in all honest, I view him with a great deal of suspicion."

"You do not represent only yourself when you say this, my Lord." Another Elder spoke. His tone was very aggressive. "You represent me."

"And me."

"And me."

A few others looked at Cagalli scornfully, and she swallowed, her heart sinking.

"In any case," The Head Elder coughed, wiping sweat from his brow, looking more haggard than ever. "You make your decisions and if you must suffer for it, you will. The backlash from the public will be punishment if you make your decision wrongly, but the decision is still yours. The Council of Elders must know that."

She kept her head high, although she found her tears building. "Then if my people do not give me their approval, my Lords and Ladies, I am prepared to accept it."

"Why does it have to be this way?" One Lady demanded. "You have been working hard and well for Orb, Lady Cagalli, so why this foolishness?" She clenched her fist. "You, Lady Cagalli, promised to keep in line with the discretion we used in your favour! I, for one, thought you understood the significance of the rules governing the Orb Head and Nobles, and we trusted you to do what was best for Orb! Do you really think that a past intelligencer and a son of a madman will truly allow you to repose your trust and confidence in him?"

The murmurs started, but Cagalli shook her head. "I cannot defend him here, and it is not my place to. But I defend my right of choice. Whether the law regarding the Orb nobles has its effect on me or not, I must meet him again. If not openly, then at any cost." She gulped for air, trying to be strong; trying to keep herself together. "My Lords and Ladies, you gave me discretion. I have considered my decisions fully and I ask that you let me use the granted discretion in this manner."

"Why?" The Head Elder asked quietly.

"Because I need Athrun Zala more than Orb or my father needed me to stay here." She said. She was not surprised to find her voice breaking, even if it upset her even more. "He is someone that I could entrust Orb to— because he is someone I would entrust my life to."

One Lord slammed his hand down. "You, Lady Cagalli, you shame us!" He looked at her angrily. "After the debacle died down last year, many of the Elders hoped you would be more careful to not attract the kind of talk that would put the leadership and the government in the worst light possible! But now you turn around and confirm, with what you put on that finger and what you say with your words, that all that was rumoured was true!"

"No!" Her voice ripped through the air. "I did not intend to shame my people, even if I have shamed myself in many ways. This is what I have chosen, despite the granted discretion and the Elders' advice. If my people cannot forgive me for what I have decided, then I will leave my post."

"Are you really prepared to?" Lady Sahaku said softly. She had risen to her feet, her dark locks riddled with some grey now. That subsistence of her eyes and lips had begun, and yet she seemed purer and more steadfast than before. "I agree that if you must pay a price, it is not to us, who are merely your advisors. You know as well as I do that the price must be paid to the people who keep you in your current position. But your father—,"

The Head Elder lifted a hand. "Lady Sahaku, perhaps this is something that is best left outside—,

"With due respect, Head Elder," Lady Sahaku shook her head. Her height was startling next to the stooped Head Elder's. "She must hear this."

She sighed almost imperceptibly, her vivid eyes drifting over Cagalli's face. "Your father was a familiar person to me, Your Grace, and I daresay he left this world only because he entrusted everything by placing it into your hands."

"He did." Cagalli told them all. "But that is precisely why I have the right to make my decision." She thought of Athrun, and unwittingly, she clenched her fist, finding comfort from the metal against her skin.

One Lord spoke up. "What if Athrun Zala is not accepted by your people and they turn their disapproval towards you— even to the extent of your continuing to be the Atha Emir?"

"I am prepared to abdicate." She said quietly. Deep down, she prayed it would not be the case.

"And what if he never comes back?" Another Lady asked. There was derision in her voice.

"I will still make my choice." Cagalli said. But her voice was hesitant. "Perhaps, I have already made it."

The Head Elder was looking directly at her. "Then so be it."

Even now, she wondered what the right decision was. With every passing day, his promise didn't seem any fainter than when he'd held her close to him and made it. But his absence and his very distance made her feel as if she had reached out and grasped only the edge of his sleeve—a frayed thread that might or might not have been joined to something in the first place.

As she moved down in the lift, feeling incredibly isolated even when the two bodyguards were by her side, Cagalli clenched her fist.

The anger and disappointment of the Elders made the recollection of the few hours with Athrun that one year ago seem strangely remote from the reality of what she was facing. There was that awful, nagging feeling of doubt, and she wondered if she was making sense even to herself.

Hours later, alone in her house, she sat on the couch, staring at the mantle's photographs of her family and the father that had never seemed fallible as a human.

Autumn was in its fiercest now, and there was an evening frost on the windows. But she noticed nothing of this, because all the curtains were drawn. In her house, the space seemed constricted quite suddenly, and her vision was blurred as she gulped once. The lights provided little comfort, only illuminating the space that she detested and yet was obliged to belong to; to be chained to.

She thought of a garden with a glass roof that had once enclosed but had eventually sufficed as a sky. There were those faint memories of a rough, choppy sea she had rowed and swam in. Had her world expanded or shrunk since then? The fragrance of the tender duck meat that had been served during the dinner event that she'd attended that week ago seemed to pale in comparison to the memory of vegetables stewing slow and warm.

The photographs seemed small and even insignificant when she got up to take their frames up in her hands, and she was suddenly afraid. As she lifted her hand , she was only marginally comforted by the glint of the band around her finger.

"So be it." She whispered to herself. If there was a mistake she was making, then at very least, it was still a decision she was making for herself.

* * *

-1657 days

* * *

Petra Joule was standing on her toes, trying to grab at Leon Yamato's hair. He became startled and scrambled away from the balcony that he had been peering over, running to his mother. She had the habit of sneaking up behind people and scaring them, although she seemed to do it unconsciously.

But the sight of the man she was seated opposite to frightened him a little, and uneasily, he hid behind his mother. Petra's mother was there too, and Leon looked at her, a bit unnerved by how little she seemed to laugh. She seemed nice enough though, even if she was very quiet and smiled mostly with her eyes.

In contrast, his mother was far more vocal with her gaiety, even if Leon's father seemed less so. His mother, upon feeling him tug at her sleeve, turned and smiled at him, stroked his unruly hair in an effort to neaten it, and then turned back to Yzak Joule, saying, "It's that scowl of yours, Yzak."

"I've told him before," Petra's mother added. "Children need to be smiled at."

With what seemed like a Herculean effort, Petra's father smiled at his colleague's child, which proved even more frightening for Leon.

"Why aren't you looking after Petra?" Leon's father asked.

"She's older than me—," Leon looked helplessly back at the girl who was nearly strangling a rather mussed-up looking, would-be fierce Alsatian that had pounded its way up to her. She was tall for her age, was already learning how to ride horses, and she was laughing as she fondled the dog's ears. Yet, the massive beast that Leon was quite scared of seemed to be a puppy rather than a guard dog, and it whined its adoration loudly. Petra's hair was long and silvery against the black and russet fur, and if it had been braided nicely at first, it seemed quite hopeless now.

"Well, go back there." His mother urged. She grinned at Leon.

And immediately, the adults began talking again. Leon caught a mention or two of his aunt's name, and he stood there, not quite tall enough to see over the edge of the table, but insistent enough to stay.

His father was shaking his head, looking at some papers that were spread over the tea-table. "I don't know what Cagalli's thinking."

"Probably isn't." Petra's father was looking quite stern. "But none of us here can do more than try to support both of them."

"Certainly," Leon's mother seemed quite serious too, which made Leon wonder what they were talking about exactly. "His resignation came at a strange time, I think. He might have been transferred to the Plant-Orb embassy at any point now, but he chose to cut off all his work and credit with Plant and to reinstate himself as a major shareholder in those businesses." She was looking at the Head General with an expression that Leon did not quite understand. "Don't you think that'll set him back quite a bit?"

"Maybe that's what he wants." Leon's father said. "Maybe he wanted a clean slate this whole time."

Petra's mother looked at the child hanging around. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. "Leon, Petra will miss you."

All the adults were looking at Leon suddenly, and he blushed violently.

"Leon," the Head General said brusquely, "If I recall correctly, Petra doesn't like to play with anyone except you. Do me a favour and just humour her." He looked directly at Leon, smiling just a bit.

Between the prospect of a smiling Head General of Zaft or the Head General's child, Leon backed away uneasily and moved back to the balcony where Petra was standing with her outstretched hands. Her eyes were wide and laughing, and Leon helplessly took her hand and asked, "Do you still want to play hide and seek?"

Of course, they both knew the answer to that.

* * *

-1699 days

* * *

A month later, Aaron Biliensky found that Cagalli was still brushing aside the errant reporter that managed to get through the cordons to try and get an interview from her. For that reason, he had forbade her from turning up at the planning session.

With a great deal of difficulty himself, Aaron had alighted from the car with the bodyguards and managed to squeeze into the Orb's National Museum for a briefing that Cagalli had been expected to attend in preparation of a charity event in a week's time.

It was quite startling, even to Aaron, how fickle the media was.

While she had absolutely insisted on wearing a ring, Ernest Rohm had convinced her that putting it on another finger was necessary. As usual and on behalf of the Council of Elders, the spokesperson had paid a trip to her office an hour before lunch, and had set his proposition out to her. She had agreed to compromise finally, unable to be as resistant as she thought she could be.

Throughout this, Aaron had been quite sick with worry for her. There was this awful bravado she went about her work with, and while she seemed entirely in control, he wondered if this was truly the case.

The reporters of course, were still curious about the new manner she was wearing the ring in, the ring itself being hotly discussed. While Cagalli had clearly tried not to think too much about news and bits of gossip, those about her were far too conspicuous to ignore. Even Aaron could not ignore it at times.

The head curator had given Aaron a curious stare upon meeting him, but like the others, he could not ask Aaron why Cagalli had decided to send a proxy instead. Surely, Aaron realized, everybody had been hoping to see the Orb Princess in person and to see if the ring on her finger was still being flaunted, as the media painted it.

But like the others, the curator would have come to the conclusion that she'd worn it on another finger during her birthday celebration in her haste or in some kind of wardrobe malfunction. That seemed to be the case now, since the Orb Princess had switched the finger she was wearing the ring on. Or perhaps, Aaron thought wryly, those present here would have also subscribed to the recent theories that she had been wearing a ring too large for any other finger, and had only recently gotten it fixed.

As Aaron moved through the empty museum halls, trying in vain to listen to the head curator with his thick accent, he felt slightly disconcerted that any response of his could be heard with the echoes of the exhibition walkways. The bodyguards and the other curators were behind at a respectable distance but Aaron still felt as if a reporter would get in somehow. Those were all held outside, for the museum was exclusively for the planners today. Of course, he thought, one of the curators who was frantically scribbling something might have been paid to get a response from him. It wouldn't be the first trick that he had encountered when it concerned the media dogs.

"So this is where the painting is—the same one that the Orb Princess will unveil in a week, yes?"

"Of course." Aaron tried to look focused as a few curators behind began to speak rapidly and all at once, discussing where the entrance would be, the lighting, et cetera. The bodyguards, as stoic as they were, seemed a bit unnerved by the museum's emptiness as well—it had been vacated especially for the Orb Princess today, although she had sent a proxy.

"Mr. Biliensky," the head curator was requesting, "The plan is that the tables will be arranged here, and the guests will be seated in a way that allows them to view the paintings from all angles. The Princess of course, will be at the most important table— our trustees and beneficiaries will be expecting her."

"I see." Aaron said, trying not to think of the evening that Cagalli would have to spend with potentially snooty donors of art and connoisseurs that spoke through their noses. Inwardly, he wondered why her personal donation to the event that was supporting some key charities wasn't sufficient for her to be excluded from attending. "I have taken note of this and will convey the message to the Orb Princess."

"The problem is that the unveiling of the main piece will be in another room, and that the artist insists that it cannot be placed with the others." The curator was discussing details with a few assistants. "And yet we think it will be lovely if she could do this—," They started arguing amongst themselves.

"Typical," Aaron muttered to himself, falling behind a bit to stare at the sculptures. Some were incomplete, even if the torso itself was beautiful, for some of the artists had chipped away the parts of the sculpture they did not approve of. It made for a strange garden of magnificently sculpted anatomy in various stages of completion—presumably, the sculptors had died before they could finish their work.

For the life of him, he could not understand the artistic temperaments of the creative, as much as he tried to appreciate their work. Aaron glanced around, looking at the massive paintings that hung from the walls and even the ceiling. He did not have much time to look, however. The curator was moving forward and she strode after him, eager not to get lost in the extensive archive of fine art.

They must have moved into the Noveau section, for the furniture displays in their cordoned sections were distinctively reminiscent of shell shapes and boasted graceful, vine-like tendrils. Admiring those, he continued to fall behind the curators who were discussing the length of curtains and similar things.

While being a main patron of the National Gallery, Cagalli would certainly feel out of depth where organizing events and massive operations were concerned. Half-wishing that he did not have to turn up and be part of the consultation process on her behalf, Aaron wandered along the perimeter of the room, not bothering to even pretend that he was thinking of something constructive to add to the planners' decisions.

And as Aaron did, he halted, gazing at a glass-encased but entirely empty pedestal. "What is this?"

One assistant scurried over. The curators noticed this and moved over too. The head curator looked at the description and picture of what he was pointing at and immediately hastened to explain. "Mr. Biliensky, this was the Rupertian piece that Caftan and Cartierie agreed to exhibit about last year!"

Puzzled, Aaron stared at the description and accompanying picture of a large, pigeon-egg shaped sapphire. He had been wondering why Caftan and Cartierie hadn't recalled their loan yet. Until then, he and Cagalli had been prepared to pretend it still existed. "Last year?"

"That's right!" Another curator chimed in.

Aaron lifted his eyes to regard all of them. "Then where is it?"

The head curator scratched his head embarrassedly. "Well, Cartiere recalled it. It was sold off in a private auction just months ago, Mr. Biliensky. We tried to convince Cartiere to keep it here, but they decided that the offer they were made was far too good, never mind that the Noveau section hasn't been complete since then."

"What about the identity of the buyer?" One curator was asking another. The one who had been asked shrugged. Aaron however, was not listening.

His eyes flickered back to the empty case, and he wondered if she had been mistaken.

* * *

-1723 days

* * *

The phone was ringing. Muttering incoherently, she pulled the blankets away, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She shivered, wiggling her toes to keep warm in her old baggy shirt and ratty shorts that had been sufficient for pyjamas.

The cell-phone somewhere under the blanket was ringing. The sound echoed in the room, and it occurred to her that if someone had called the house, every phone in the house would have rang in unison with this one in different tunes. For reasons unknown even to herself, there was one cordless phone for every room in the house. Thank Haumea she had only three cellphones for work.

Blearily, she reached for the one ringing, trying to clear her voice. The sun was barely up and already there were people calling. Her day off wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought grumpily.

She winced as Aaron's voice shot through the earpiece. "Hello Cagalli! I need you to confirm that you know what to do for the raising of the curtain later."

"Aaron," She wheezed, picking up the clock, "It's only five-thirty."

He sounded quite scandalized. "Shit, Cagalli, you sound like you're sick! You only have two hours to get ready for the charity event!" He was working himself up. "Do you need aspirin or something?"

She shook her head, feeling exasperated. "Most people sound like this when they are forced to wake up at five in the morning, Aaron."

There was a long silence, then a chuckle. "It's five in the evening, Cagalli. You must have overslept."

She pulled aside the curtains, looking at the sun. It was bright in the sky—setting, that is.

And took her all of a second to realize that she had overslept on her day off, despite her grand plans to go for a nice long morning walk in the nearest park that had been built— one or two kilometers away from her estate.

She swore loudly.

"Are you going to come over soon?" She looked around at her bedroom, noting its untidy state. Slightly alarmed, she began ruffling her hair with one hand while sitting up on her bed. If Aaron saw the pigsty that Cagalli's room currently was, he would not forgive her. But more than that, she had been forcibly jolted from her sleep to be reminded of the charity dinner she'd agreed to attend.

Irritated at her carelessness and her lack of proper planning for her semi-day off, she began to toss things around, trying to find the invitation card amidst the stack of papers she'd taken to bed to read.

"Yes, yes, the bodyguards will drop in there with the stylists, then send you to the National gallery." He said brightly, quite unaware that Cagalli's home resembled something of a pigsty during this past week. "And don't forget to go through the packages that they sent over yesterday afternoon."

She could have pulled her hair out. "Oh Aaron, I got back home yesterday and conked out on the bed!" She tried not to get too agitated, although she was already standing on her bed. "I haven't gone through the information that I need for tonight!"

"It's fine, it's fine," He said quickly. "Just think of something to say about the homegrown, Orb talents featured tonight and the goodwill of the donors. That's what's the gist of the script." There was a little pause. "And get yourself looking presentable please, dear. There's the black dress that I mentioned the other time—the stylists approve, I should think."

She shook her head, quite upset. "I could kill myself, Aaron. The place is a mess."

"It's fine," He repeated reassuringly. "Go get yourself prepared—you have two and a half hours, and it's alright to be about half-an-hour late—they are expecting that anyway. Just remember that the chauffeur and bodyguards are coming soon. I'm coming over too—got to prep you up since you missed the last briefing session."

She nodded, replacing the receiver. Frantic now, she jumped off the bed, ran down the main staircase of the house.

The house was cold because she had forgotten to switch on the heating system since yesterday. But what did it matter when her home was merely a place for her to sleep in— an elaborate, oversized hotel room?

She put the thoughts out of her head and began trying to locate the documents that she had neglected to go through. There were packages everywhere that had been posted to this house, amongst the documents. Those had probably been the most recent things cleared by security. If there was anything that Kira and Lacus had sent over, those had surely been at least a week ago.

Their photographs lined the living room's mantle. Lacus' child had large blue eyes, a handsome boy who seemed so tranquil at times but so lost at others when he struggled to understand what the grown ups talked about. Next to his son, Kira was smiling, and she knew that her twin's remuneration was complete. The child was the final ounce of hope that was needed to make him forget the lives and deaths behind him.

Smiling slightly at the thought of them, she spotted the packages accumulated over the week—those were strewn over the coffee table. Not caring to sort through, she swept those all up, thinking that she would surely find the script that she would have to speed-read through upon opening up the packages.

As Cagalli trudged back up the stairs, she could not help noticing the state of the house, cursing the oversleeping that she had indulged in.

Sighing, she gazed at the state of her room, which was incidentally representative of most of the living room and kitchen. Yesterday had been a bit of a mess for her, since she'd basically drove straight home after work and proceeded to try and bake a strudel.

Perhaps, Ernest Rohm's third visit in the week had frustrated more than she had realized or registered. For one, she could not blame him for turning up when it was simply his job to convey the Elders' will. He had sat in her office, personally going through every plan she had in her schedule for the next two weeks. She knew what the Elders were afraid of. Her unpredictability and her recent antics had made them jittery. For another, it seemed entirely reasonable that he look at her with that clear scorn and distaste

Oh but how infuriating!

She had given up at some point; too exhausted after peeling the apples. She hadn't gotten past measuring the flour. Her exhaustion had surprised her, particularly since she hadn't done anything really strenuous. She'd then decided to spend the night reading some materials, and she'd fallen asleep without even knowing it. Perhaps, the strain she had tried to ignore had made her oversleep in some ways.

Hurriedly, she stretched to ease the soreness of her still-slumbering body, and then floundered up the stairs again to the bathroom to freshen up, for Aaron could not abide mediocrity. Brushing her teeth, she peered into the reflection and wondered why there were dark circles under her eyes even when she'd slept for so many hours.

Worst of all, she did not know where to start with the neatening, be it herself or the house that the bodyguards would probably shake their heads at. She felt tired and hollow and battered, and she told herself there and then that it was because the Belgium trip the last week had been rather taxing. But she knew that the reasons ran deeper than she would have liked to admit, for she was quite sure the press would be at the dinner tonight. Contemplating the scene later was tiring in itself.

For now, she tried to instill order to her dressing table by neatening up the various lotions and things scattered in chaos over the vanity top. The stylists would surely think the worst of her later if she revealed her dressing area to be as untidy as this.

As Cagalli rummaged with things, she inevitably thought of sparkling things that a trinket box had once held, and she thought of a painted smirk on a tiny cat. All those things seemed to have been part of a world that had decayed with the passing of the incident.

Frowning to try and forget, she finished fiddling, moved to the wardrobe door, opened it, stared pointlessly, grabbed the first dress she looked at, and then closed it. She dragged herself to sit on the bed, undressing and then getting into a bathrobe, all the while staring into space.

Aaron would sulk if he arrived and found her and the house in this state of frayed disarray. The bodyguards and stylists would surely panic at her lack of preparation but Cagalli weighed her options and decided that all of them would deal about it later. Technically, she was supposed to get prepared for the event, but they could all rush in the last hour probably get things done fast enough anyway.

And she sat on her bed, kicking off the slippers and gathering the packages she'd put on the bed. She sifted through the pile absent-mindedly, looking for the one that would be labeled as the script. Once she found it, Cagalli told herself, she would take her bath and then quickly read through it. But while she shuffled the envelopes, one struck her as being particularly bulky, and her curiosity was piqued enough for her to tear it open.

She tore the brown paper away carelessly, crumpling it, balling it and then tossing it to a bin somewhere in the room's corner. There was no card even if the packaged revealed itself to be a large, elaborate, beautifully embossed box, and she shrugged, thinking that Lacus would have been too busy with Leon these days.

But as Cagalli snapped the box open, a silver strand with a large, nearly liquid drop of sapphire slipped into her lap, glistening like a tear, a blue pigeon egg. A long time ago, it had been nestled against her flesh, but it had taken a bullet for her.

She held it up, blinking, recognizing it and then her mouth fell open in surprise. It wasn't supposed to be complete— it had been broken, hadn't it?

Desperate now, she searched the folds of the torn package for a card. There was none. A thought struck her and she moved from the bed to the bin, picking up the ripped paper and smoothening it. But there was no writing on it.

Almost angrily, she turned back to the packages on her bed. She set to work ripping those open, slicing those with a letter opener if she could not pull the paper open with her hands. There was a script that she found that was relevant for the evening's purposes— but nothing else that she was looking for. She could not find what she had been looking for.

Her grip on the letter opener that she had seized from the table in the room grew so tight and hot that it took a few seconds before she realized she had cut herself. She stared at the thin red line across her index, and it seemed unreal to her.

Hadn't it been a long time ago that someone had chided her for her clumsiness? Hadn't she been so surprised and bewildered by his reaction to that little cut she'd somehow sustained while preparing a meal for him to the point that she'd cut herself again? He'd always hated it when she was clumsy and hurt herself—he hated how pointless her injuries often were; how accident-prone she was. It had always made him yell, and she had always become so flustered that a second injury had been inevitable.

In silence, Cagalli got up. She found a small band-aid and fixed her finger. As she did, she found her shoulders trembling.

Things were in order now. She was in order. There was nothing more.

She glanced at the dress she'd randomly selected and thrown on the bed without really thinking about her choice. It lay there in a solemn black, framed by torn papers and the remnants of what would have been envelopes. The script was there, weighed down by a magnificent gem whose opulence made it almost artificial. It meant nothing to her—it could not mean anything to her. Tremblingly, she moved to the bed once again, sitting there and picking up the script and what seemed like a parody of a gift. It sparkled and her throat constricted.

She would read the script and learn it in time, even while her eyelashes were being curled. It was fine. There was nothing wrong. Nothing wrong. Nothing at all. So—,

The bell rang, and clumsily, she got up, slightly dazed.

And she moved through the corridors; room after room; moving past the chairs she'd used as a child; moving past the emptiness that led to another space of meaningless order. The bell to her front door was still ringing.

And she stumbled to it, unlocking it with a steady, unfeeling hand, unconscious of what she was supposed to expect; wearing only one her bedroom slippers. The other must have been lost along the staircase. She scarcely knew; she was blinded in some ways, and her fingers seemed thick and stupid as she fumbled with the many locks.

"Hurry, Cagalli," She heard Aaron say. "Don't keep us all waiting now!"

"I'm coming," Cagalli muttered.

She opened it, trying to summon goodwill and laughter to receive Aaron, the team of stylists and the bodyguards. At the same time, she steeled a smile on her face, praying that the cold autumn air and the evening would not expose the way her fingers were shaking.

But the last of daylight fell into her house even as the lamps outside shone in too. Those cast a glow over her face, and those rays seemed to rush into the house, and her eyes widened as she blinked.

Aaron was standing there, beaming at her. "Why, Cagalli—,"

Then his eyes darkened and his nose wrinkled. "Dressed like that with a bathrobe, and with just one bedroom slipper. All I can say is, thank goodness you're wearing proper underwear."

This was true. A glimpse of her chemise was there because she'd run to the door in a hurry without even adjusting her bathrobe properly. In vain, Cagalli tried to lift a hand in a sorry attempt to fix her appearance but her trembling fingers hung from stiff limbs at her side. The other hand with the script and necklace was equally leaden.

"Haumea, didn't I tell you to dress up and get ready for the event?" Aaron looked annoyed at his carelessness. "You have that lovely number that I told you to pick out for the event—why aren't you in it?"

"Aaron," Her voice was soft and it was breaking, but she did not notice it. "The parcel—,"

And Aaron beamed. "Oh, the delivery finally got there, did it?" He snorted. "The bodyguards took a long time deciding if it was safe—I had to do most of the work in convincing them that it was safe. Wasn't easy, I assure you, since there was no address or sender."

Her stunned silence answered him, and Aaron chuckled. She began to sputter incoherently.

"S-Shattered— that night—I,"

"Yes, I know, Cagalli." He said blithely. "You were really lucky that the one you wore was a fake. How fortunate that Caftan and Cartierie didn't trust you with the real thing, so they gave you a fake to wear on the night when you were kidnapped. And you got it shattered! But hey, no biggie. The real Rupertian's yours now and you could shatter it for all they cared."

"H-How? " She shook her head wildly, staring at him.

"They sold it some time ago!" Aaron chided her. "I suppose you never read about the undisclosed price and piece in the Sothebie's auction, right?"

Dumbly, she stared.

"The buyer requested the purchase be undisclosed because it was meant as a surprise! I myself never knew about this until I visited the National gallery and was told so too. Here!" He stepped aside.

But Cagalli was hardly listening.

She was staring, her door open, her body numb and yet, remembering how she had felt warmth in a person's circumference.

Her fingertips were at her lips, like she was biting back a cry but forgetting how to.

"I know I promised to have that strudel, but I've got somewhere to run off to now." Aaron said cheerfully, still indulging in his monologue.

"Aaron—," Her voice was ragged.

He frowned a little as he moved back down a step, appraising her. "I really think you should have worn that dress."

And then Aaron began taking a few steps back and stumbling a little, down the steps of her house, laughing and waving once.

She did not notice; she hadn't even looked at him once. Her hand was still at the frame of the door, the other on her mouth now, frozen.

There was silence again, and the door was still wide open. The last of the light was giving way to the lamps that she'd considered extinguishing at one point. Cagalli could not even watch as Aaron ran off into the distance. Vaguely, she realized that car he'd used was probably there, and he would drive through the gates with the security features again. He and the bodyguards would have easily cleared, and he had done it only just.

But she stood there, her body tense. It struck Cagalli that she lived in such a gigantic house with a narrow door.

What was the use of such a house? The only house she'd ever really known in her life had disappeared when everyone had left; first her father, then Mana, then Kisaka and even the maids she sent away because she did not need them—,

Her eyes were glistening and her thoughts raced in sequences that did not have a proper start or end. Yet, the only thing that came to her lips was a muffled cry of equal joy and sorrow. She did not see the new, faint lines in his face but she saw only the light in his eyes and face. She was not as aware of the longing in his face as much as the way he seemed more human and frail than she'd once thought he was capable of being.

"Hello, Cagalli." He said quietly.

He watched her for a moment, and there was no apology or anything else that he offered. He had re-entered without her consent, without warning, without a card or identity or any indication that he had remembered the past. It should have sent the bitterness up her throat; it should have made her reel with the injustice of how he had never seemed to feel more hurt than her.

But she found then that she didn't need anything more. What more did she need when she had learnt to accept each little disappointment? And what did she understand about trying to forget when she could still recognize that distant beating of wings and the renewal of faded memories? Those were the memories that had once been far too broken to help a person dream, but now—

Helplessly, she shook her head once, a tiny cry trapped behind the one hand she managed to raise. In her other hand, the heaviness of the sapphire glinted, casting a blue stain on the papers of a script she had yet to read and learn, her limp fingers weak around both.

And she flinched when he brought his hand to the one she'd clapped over her mouth, plucking it away from that silence she imposed on herself. His fingers were warm and seemed more powerful and more steady than the trembling ones that he held.

At the same time, she lost control of her other hand, dropping both the script and the present he'd given her, and those fell mutely to the carpet. It mattered little that one was so very light and the other so weighty— both were inconsequential.

"It's been a long time." He gave her a small, slightly sad smile. It seemed so familiar that she wondered if time had really passed.

"You—," She swallowed, choking back her tears bravely, trying to return his smile. "Too long, if you ask me."

And gently, Athrun took her by the hand, stepped in, and closed the door behind them.

* * *

0 days.

* * *

End

* * *

**A/N: Dear readers and reviewers, thank you so much for your continuous support over all this time and chapters. The Isle has definitely been a joy to write and such a learning experience for me. This project took some time to complete, for sure, but I really enjoyed the end results and the responses.**

**A heartfelt thanks especially to the reviewers. I know I kept many of you in horrible suspense (and perhaps continue to do so), but I suppose there were so many ways the story could have ended and this was my favourite of the six alternate endings I had written.**

**In many ways, this ending is what I have always believed is most likely.**

**It isn't so much an answer but a question—a challenge.**

Latest news: I am working on a sequel even though I actually didn't intend to. I finished an epilogue that I did not release with this story. Until now, I am hesitating on whether to continue on this fic or whether to start a new one or to leave it entirely. Well, we'll see how, but thanks for all the lovely reviews and I hope to see the same support if and when there's a sequel/continuation of this story!


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